Literacy

I wrote recently about how the Rendille language is now a written language. Of course, it really doesn’t do any good to have a language written down if nobody can read it. That’s where literacy classes come in.

Over the midterm break, I decided to take advantage of a weekday with no school and head out to one of the classes for a visit. I have the books and know some of the teachers, but I’ve never seen a class in progress, so I found out where the truck came by and headed out.

After waiting by the side of the road with some Rendille mamas headed home from town with their bags of charcoal and small packets of tea and sugar, the truck arrived and I jumped on, eager for a ride out to the goobs. The back was full of people, as this regular run out to Saalle and Tubcha, two clan villages quite a ways out, in part serves as a Rendille bush taxi. The truck heads out every afternoon to take the literacy teachers to their classes, but the more people they can help out on the way, the better.

When we arrive at Saalle, Aabanna and Nangoyanna - the literacy teachers – and I hop off and walk towards a big acacia tree in the distance. The class takes place there in the shade under the tree. The only hint that this is our classroom is the piece of board painted black that rests in the branches. The students are already gathered – mamas and their babies, and three men off to one side, sitting on their three legged stools.

Aabanna takes down the blackboard and writes the date as two babies play in the dirt behind me. I greet everyone, introduce myself, and tell them that I’m learning Rendille and I want to see a literacy class. I sit down and the lesson begins.

We start with math. There are eight questions written on the board now – two digit adding without carrying – and the class is copying them down. I set to work, too, and write the problems in my notebook. I smile as I write down the answers, happy to play the student and see some of what goes on in a literacy class. Aabana then sees that I’m done, so he takes my book and marks it for me. Eight out of eight, it says, and he writes “Weyti haagisse!” on my paper. “Very well done!” When I get my book back, I look at the lady sitting beside me, who has seen that I’m finished already. She is not even finished copying the questions down, and I feel bad. Of course I can do this quickly – I’ve had twenty five years of practicing how to read and write and copy and calculate. I make a mental note to just go really slowly from now on.

I look around and see that each student has a little bag that the carry their notebooks in – most have the face of either Winnie the Pooh or Spongebob Squarepants grinning back at us from their place on the dusty ground. Amid the beads and metal ankle collars and brightly colored fabrics, I see the collision of two very different worlds.

We move from math to health, and although I can’t understand a lot of what Nangoyanna is saying, I realize that, among other things, she is teaching about cholera and how to prevent it and treat it.

After health, the class takes out book five of the literacy series. Today we’re working on the sounds ‘d and ch. We repeat back syllables, write down words, read some pages in the book. They ask me to take a turn leading the syllables part of the lesson, just like the other students, and I flub at first, but then catch on. It’s fun to be part of the class, and everybody claps for me when I’m done. It’s funny, all through the lessons, Aabanna and Nangoyanna keep coming up to me to point out where we are in the book. While the other students speak Rendille, they are just learning to read, but me, I already know how to read, but I just don’t always know WHAT I’m reading! Following along is no problem, but my teachers are so sweet in trying to help me keep up!

As the lessons progress, I look around me. Women are tossing a well used eraser around to share, the men are concentrating, two baby goats wander back and forth, babies play with each other in the sand behind us. A few mamas are nursing as they work. Irballey, one exceptionally keen man in the class, sounds out my Rendille name (Hafareya) and writes it with his finger in the dust.

There is a Bible lesson at the end, and some songs. The Rendille are such enthusiastic singers! I teach the class a song, too – a simple camp song I was able to translate quickly into Rendille. After the lesson, I hear everyone walking away singing it! So cool!

The people in the class are so keen, so excited about learning to read and write in their own language. Literacy is so incredibly popular, and in goobs where there isn’t a class nearby, people are crying for classes to begin there, too. But they weren’t always so popular…

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For about fifteen years now (give or take), the Tirrim project has been running adult literacy classes out in the goobs. They learn to read and write, to do maths, learn about health issues for humans and animals, history and government, geography, and Bible. It’s a two year program that covers a lot of material!

Take geography for example. Before you can even get people to understand maps, you have to help them to see that three dimensional, colourful objects can be represented on a flat surface in black and white! There’s absolutely no tradition of writing or drawing, so even that is a big step!

Once that hurdle is over, they look at a simple drawing of the village where they are. Once they understand that places can be represented on paper, they move to a basic map of Korr ‘town.’ They then learn about the surrounding area, then the district, the province, and are eventually shown a map of Kenya. They see where Kenya is in Africa, and then the teachers bring out a globe. Reactions are varied, but they all look in amazement at all that blue…

“But look at all that water!” they say. “There’s so much water! We’ll all drown!”
“Wooooy! There’s all that water in the world? Why doesn’t someone give some to us? Don’t they know we live in the desert and have hardly any water???”
“No, no, no, that can’t be! The water at the bottom will all fall off!”

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At first, Nick and Lynne had trouble convincing people to take the class. “Oh, no, we’ve tried to learn to read and write, but we just can’t,” they’d tell them. Well that’s because the government literacy classes were to teach them how to read Kiswahili, and nobody spoke that language. No wonder they couldn’t do it! How can you learn to read in a language you totally don’t know?

“No, no, no, but this isn’t in Kiswahili! These classes are in Rendille!”
“What? No, no no. Rendille is just a silly backward language. No one can read it.”
“You can! Come and see!”

It still took some convincing. “But why would we want to learn to read? We do fine as we are!” They were told about how learning to do math can help avoid being cheated at the shops and how they can learn all kinds of things. They asked the Rendille what kinds of things they would like to learn about, and they were told that, first, they would like to learn about the health of their camels. Then second, about the health of their people.

“Yes! You can learn about all of those things! Come, try!”

For the first classes, they asked for people who were not too old, because the idea was that from the literacy classes, new literacy teachers would be trained. But of course, the older you are, the more honoured you become, so most of the class was made up of old, old men, many of whom were nearly blind!

To get them motivated, the first Rendille reader is much the same as emerging literacy readers back at home – simple, simple sentences that can be understood mostly from the pictures that accompany them. Now, the Rendille are an extremely confident people already (they already know everything, apparently!), but from this first reader, once they felt that they could read, well, look out! They were so excited!

In addition to the literacy books, there have been a number of other books produced in Rendille – books on camel health, Bible basics books, books of Rendille fables… These are around, but only a very few draft copies. There are text books of sorts for the subjects in the literacy classes, too, ready to go, but there has yet to be money to have them typeset and printed. And of course, slowly by slowly, the Rendille New Testament is coming!

One other effect of the popularity of the adult literacy classes is that these newly literate Rendille began begging for education for their children. “They MUST learn to read and write, too!” The pressure began to grow and grow and grow...

When cliches attack

Education in Kenya is largely based on rote memorization. Memorize facts, spit them back. Memorize facts, spit them back. And I have to admit, these kid’s ability to cram information in their heads is phenomenal. But this does not teach them to THINK. Often it doesn’t even teach them to understand.

Not even writing is exempt from this rote memorization. They literally have big books of expressions and proverbs that they memorize and are required to jam into every composition they write. The more clichés, the better. It KILLS me, because I can’t even tell them NOT to do this, because if they don’t have them for their Kenya Certificate of Primary Education exams (the big exams that determine what kind of secondary school they qualify – HUGE pressure, high stakes exams at the end of primary school), they will be penalized greatly.

And so they memorize, memorize, memorize, and their compositions are hopelessly flowery and often are humourous and rather befuddling because they’ve stuck some proverb in there that has nothing whatsoever to do with what they’re talking about. Here are a few examples of what results when memorization is present without understanding:

The headmaster was as tall as a flagpole and as fat as a pig.

I was so sad because my mother kicked the bucket.

I ran out the door at a speed that would make a snail a champion.

I stood rooted to the ground as if defying gravity.

ARGH!

And, regardless of what the composition is about, it very often begins with waking up, getting dressed, eating breakfast, washing, a journey, and then one quick paragraph of whatever the event is actually supposed to be. And it’s almost ALWAYS “the day I will remember for the rest of my life.” Even when the story takes place over a week.

Let's see... It was Monday morning when I woke up early, because the early bird catches the worm. It was when the birds were twittering and flying hither and thither from tree to tree. The radiant light of the sun penetrated via my bedroom window and I got out of bed and went off to the frog’s kingdom, because as Englishman says, cleanliness is next to godliness. My mother asked me to help her make breakfast, so without saying a word I went fast and cooked. Time and tide wait for no king. Wow! We had a special breakfast, and I was as happy as a sandboy…

Do you get the picture? (And what on EARTH is a sand boy???) When I had my first batch of exams to mark, at first I thought they were so clever, till I saw whole sentences repeated over and over and over in each composition. My particular favourite is this: “I was as happy as an old woman who just got her dental program renewed before a big feast.”

WHAAAAAT?!?!

Here’s a full composition. At least this one was a little bit original – not about finding out that you’re the first person in your class or about getting beaten by the headmaster. This one was cute and made me laugh! The first bit is the story starter that they then had to finish. I kept the grammar and wording, but just corrected the spelling (it’s really hard to purposely type words incorrectly!) What’s your favourite cliché?

All eyes turned towards me as I entered the classroom. Even before I could sit down, someone whispered loudly that…

I heard some words. So I made myself innocent and went and sat on my large brown desk. Then I tried to investigate what was wrong but I could not find anything wrong. But the way I saw it was something funny about me.
So, immediately without wasting time because as Englishman say time and tide waits for no king I looked around. Then I also looked the way I dressed and didn’t trust the sight that greeted my eyes. I was shocked when I saw that I had wore two different socks and shoes which are blue and red. So, I rubbed my eyes to make sure that it was not.
Then I just ignored and sat comfortably. But the pupils didn’t stopped looking at me. So, I thought and even tried to find where to go and dress well but it was late. That time my heart was beating like a West African drum.
Suddenly a bright idea came into my big cylindrical head. I went to some of my friends to help me. So they told me to go to the teacher to ask for permission to go home and dress well. So, I walked in front of the class as I was thin that when I walked it seemed like a walking advertisement for the benefits of unhealthy eating.
My friends and I went to our class teacher who was as old as Bethsheba. So, she told me to go home faster and be back to school after some minutes. So I ran as fast as deer, leaving a dust floating in the air. I reached home faster.
Then my mother went out of our house. She looked at me and was surprised on the way I dressed. Without saying a word I ran into our house and changed my clothes. Then my father who was at tall as a flag post and had teeth as yellow as chocolate and his hair resemble my grandmother’s yard broom went out of the house and told me to go to school faster.
So I returned to school and I was as happy as an old woman who just got her denture program renewed before a big feast to be dressed well again. But I just felt ashame even after dressing well. So, that was when I knew that I was a careless pupil but till that day I became careful and neat. So, that is the day I would never forget in the rest of my life.

If I can help them to see that their writing can be much more creative and interesting withOUT using all these beloved expressions, I’ll be as happy as a king.

Sleepover!

My 'sleepover' took place at the end of March. Yep, I'm a little behind! :)
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Most Rendille don’t live in Korr town itself. Rather, they live in the goobs, clan villages scattered around the desert. The huts in each goob (pronounce the word goob with the same “o” sound as in “go”) are arranged in a circle around the outside and on the inside are circular pens made of thorn branches for the animals – sheep, goats, camels. At the very center is another enclosure for the Rendille elders. There there is a fire there that is always kept smoldering, where the elders sit to discuss weighty matters or just talk the hours away.


It’s always so cool to go out to the goobs – I’ll often hitch a ride when Nick and Lynne head out for any number of reasons. Whenever the car comes by, people rush out and suddenly there’s a big crowd of people – mostly children – who all want to say hello.

One of the things I’ve wanted to do while I’m here was to go out and spend the night in a goob – be there when the animals come back at night, sleep in a hut, and get a little glimpse of what life is like for a traditional Rendille.

One of the older ladies at our church is named Khaso, and she is SO fun. She lives in Rongumo, a goob maybe ten kilometers out of town, but if there’s even a HINT of something going on at the church, she will walk in and be there, right in the front row, with a huge smile on her face. Every time she sees me, she greets me, pulling me in close for a cheek to cheek greeting and gives me a big hug. She has had a number of visitors stay with her, and Nick thought that she would be a good person to go stay with. Of course, he asked her if it would be ok if I came and stayed with her one night, and then for a week and a half, every time she saw him she would ask, “Is Hillary coming tonight? No? Ok, tomorrow? The next day? When? When will she come???” We knew it would have to be soon or Khaso might pop!

Friday night turned out to be the night. After school, I came home and Lynne made a stew and some bread to take out (we knew that despite the fact that Khaso has nothing, nothing, nothing, she would have felt obligated to feed us, and we couldn’t let her do that). We also brought tea leaves, milk, and sugar for chai, and a small drum of water. When we were all loaded up, we set out for Rongumo.

We arrived just before sunset, and immediately I was swarmed with kids. They all began signing and so there I stood in the middle of them all for nearly half an hour, unable to move for the dozens of children all around me, catching on to as many words as I could and doing my best to sing along. It was absolute bliss!

I finally tore myself away from the kids and we went into Khaso’s hut, where she made us each a cup of chai. The kitchen is inside the hut, just four stones arranged around a little dug out pit in the dirt – just enough to lay firewood underneath and balance a pot on top. She told us about the drought and how hard it is for people right now, and we talked for nearly an hour (thank goodness for Nick, who could translate for me!). Around 8:30, we gathered in front of the hut – Nick on the man’s side, me, about a bazillion kids, and any other women on the other side. People wandered over from all over the village to hear what Nick had to say – people are always interested in hearing about God, and Nick was eager to try out the most recently translated passage in a public setting. There were probably about forty people gathered – not counting the kids! – and as they all arrived, the kids started singing again. Another solid half an hour of singing (led by one boy who was like the musical version of the energizer bunny – he sang and sang and sang and sang with gusto and at full volume the ENTIRE time), and then we prayed to begin. Indubaayo has come along, too, so she took the passage and began to read.

As she read and as Nick spoke, I looked around me, taking in what I could by the light of the rising moon. I was sitting in front of the hut, little naked Rendille kids leaning on and sitting all over me. At least two little ones had fallen asleep – one slumped against my back, one with her head in my lap. Three different kids held my hand or my arm, and at least two had hands on my feet. One girl sat behind me and played with my hair. To my right was the hut, smoky and earthy. Across from me and to my left were all the people who had come to listen – elders, women, and young unmarried girls. The headgear of the girls tinkled in the breeze and shimmered in the moonlight. All around me were traditional Rendille – beads and staffs and bracelets and smiles. Dominating the starry night was Indubaayo, reading a little bit haltingly, but with a deep love for these people and a beaming smile on her face.

As someone who has had a Bible (or two or three or thirteen) in her house all her life – a simplified one for kids, a version with applications for teenagers, an NIV version, a Living Bible version, a New American Standard version, a King James version, a study Bible version, a Life Application Bible version, a New Testament only version, a “read through the Bible in a year” version – it hit me.

This was new. It was fresh. It wasn’t backed with a “yeah yeah, been there, heard that” kind of attitude. It was brand. new. And it was revolutionary, especially for the Rendille, for whom revenge is a very big part of their existence:

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse… Do not repay anyone evil for evil... Do not take revenge [the Rendille way of saying this is “do not wash blood with blood”], my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink... Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (selected verses from Romans 12:14-21)

These people were listening to something in their own language, which has only been written down for about twenty years, read by someone who just a few years ago was completely illiterate. And they were hearing the word of God for the very. first. time in their LIVES.

All I could do was to sit in awe at what was going on around me.

I fell asleep that night on my cowskin on the floor of Khaso’s hut with tears in my eyes. I knew that that night represented something so big, so meaningful, so… GOD. And I got to be there.

Waakh a la koolicho! May God be praised!

Tirrim, part 1: Bible Translation

Every time I think about beginning this post, I am overwhelmed. There is so much to tell, so much to explain. So many things are interconnected that if I start with one area, it’s understanding is dependent on another, and then again dependent on another. Where do I begin? I want to do an adequate job of explaining how truly exciting and - yes, I’ll use this word yet again - amazing the Tirrim project is. So it takes time. Time to understand it myself, time to put all the pieces together, time to collect photos to help bring it alive, time write it all down. But it’s more than time to begin. So where do I begin the story? I suppose I must begin with Nick and Lynne.

Over thirty years ago, Lynne read the following verses from Isaiah 18 that speak of a people “just beyond the rivers of Ethiopia:”

Go, swift messengers,
to a people tall and smooth-skinned,
to a people feared far and wide,
an aggressive nation of strange speech,
whose land is divided by rivers.

The Rendille at the time, and to some extent now, were known for their aggressive revenge campaigns. If another tribe raided them, revenge would be swift and severe. As a result, many neighbouring tribes feared them. And, as someone trying to learn as much language as she can, sometimes the speech sure sounds strange, too! :) As far as rivers go, there’s not a whole lot of water here (ok, nearly none), but the land is certainly carved up by riverbeds! Make what you will of the similarities, but for Lynne, these verses were a confirmation for her.

God doesn’t use these verses for the same purpose in everybody’s life, but Lynne knew that God was calling her to Northern Kenya. Both Nick and Lynne wanted to work as missionaries in Africa, and decided that they wanted to work in Bible translation. Through God’s leading and provision, they arrived in Korr in 1980 to begin work on Bible translation. What God has grown up in this place in the past twenty-nine years is astounding.

Bible Translation. Adult literacy classes. Evangelism. Veterinary care. Nursery schools. Primary school. Secondary school. Boarding for the schools. A nomadic nursery and lower primary school in the goobs (villages). Tirrim School of the Bible. Church planting and development. Medical care. Building programs. Water projects. Child sponsorship. Higher education sponsorship. Plans for a medical clinic and laboratory… are you beginning to see why I’m so overwhelmed when I start to think of how to explain it all???

Bible Translation

For years, Nick worked on learning Rendille (and he still learns new things all the time!). He is humble and won’t say this himself, but he is extremely fluent in the language and communicates easily with anyone. He, along with a small team, has systematically mapped out the structures of the language and has established a phonetic alphabet that has allowed Rendille to move from being an oral language only to a written one. When at one time the language was in danger of disappearing, having it written down has now preserved it. Even the most traditional, uneducated Rendille elders have realized this, and have given Nick gifts of great honor in gratitude for preserving the language.

With Rendille now possessing a written system, translation work could begin. While the focus for the first stage was the New Testament, the translation committee also decided to translate Genesis and Exodus 1-20.

They chose these books for a number of reasons, a few being that they gave a good foundation of who God is and a good history of our faith. It also describes people living a lifestyle very similar to their own – nomads in a desert land.

To date, they have published Genesis and Exodus 1-20, the book of Mark, and the book of Acts (and maybe John?). Only a few books are allowed to be published until the whole thing is ready (for cost reasons, they can’t print each book individually and then do a second printing of all the books together), which hopefully will be about a year and a half from now. Twenty-nine years, and this process is almost done (well, the New Testament, anyway)!!! Very soon the Rendille will have the Bible in their OWN language! (click to enlarge)

It is beyond cool to see what an impact God’s word has on people’s lives. Indubaayo is one lady who got a copy of the book of Mark when she was in the literacy program. All throughout the course, she kept telling the teachers, “This reading and writing is great, the health stuff is great… but we have our OWN god! Stop telling us about this Jesus guy!” Then one day she was reading the book of Mark when she was extremely sick in her hut, and she was hit with an overwhelming realization that this was true! She decided to devote her life to Jesus right then, and since has grown to become the most amazing lady. She is now one of the four evangelists for the Tirrim project and goes out to villages six or seven times a week to tell people about Jesus and the new life he’s given her.

Indubaayo has a copy of the books of the Bible that are available, and she carries them with her everywhere she goes. They are tattered and worn and falling apart, but she refuses to let anyone give her a new copy. “No! These books are TOO precious!” she’ll tell you. I am so convicted by this. Her absolute LOVE of God’s word is so challenging! How wonderful it will be when the entire New Testament is available!

Although she has read what she has over and over and over again, there is so much more that Indubaayo is longing to learn. The Rendille religion focuses a lot around sacrifices, and it’s a big question that she has been facing when she is telling people about Jesus. They thing what she’s telling them is great, but they just can’t fathom a religion without sacrifices. Time and time again, they ask her, “But what about sacrifices?” “But what about sacrifices?” She’s tried to answer them as best she can (and I’m confident that this woman has a solid answer for them), but still she questions exactly what to say, how to make them understand that the death of Jesus is the final sacrifice – we don’t need anything else! We’re forgiven – the. end. But still the people ask, “But what about sacrifices?”

A few months ago, Nick had just finished translating Romans 12. He printed off a copy of the chapter from the computer and gave it to Indubaayo to read to a group of Rendille people. (One of the many steps involved in Bible translation is to take the translation to the public and sort of test it on them – see if it makes sense, if it uses the language that they would use, and to see if there are any tweaks that need to be made.) As she read it, her face lit up. This was it! THIS was the answer she’d been looking for!

Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.(Romans 12:1-2)

God doesn’t want our sheep, our goats, our camels… he wants US! Alive! He wants our lives, dedicated to Him! LIVING sacrifices!

Excitedly, she clutched the printout to her heart and informed Nick he wasn’t about to get it back. The very next day she used this passage – one she had just read for the first time in her life to speak to the secondary school students in their devotion time. Though school kids can sometimes look down on traditional people, they were all ears as she spoke about living sacrifices. In large part through her talk, fifteen of those kids indicated that they wanted to make a new or a stronger commitment of faith.

There is powerful stuff going on here! God’s word is transforming lives! But transformation doesn’t come without opposition.

Since beginning this post, we have learned that as of two months ago, the translation funding has been stopped. The translators and all the support staff that are covered under this project are now out of work. The organization that has been funding the translation has seen a 70% drop in their donations during this economic downturn, and has had to cut many projects. Heartbreakingly, the Rendille translation project is one of them. Nobody is quite sure what this means for the future of this project. We’re praying really hard.

Nick and Lynne are heartened somewhat in knowing that SO many times with Bible translation projects like this, as the Bible nears completion, calamity seems to strike (the translation project is not the only one with funding issues right now – it seems the Tirrim project is being hit on all sides.). It’s happened time and time again, and now they’re seeing it happen here, too. Hmmm… kind of like someone really doesn’t want the word of God to get out!

But! … God is building His church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it!
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* Photo of Indubaayo courtesy Nick Swanepoel

A day in the life

Saturday June 13

6:15 am – Wake up and lounge in bed for 10 minutes or so till I start to hear the voices of the night watchmen arriving for coffee.

6:25 – Get up and go to the house to get the water on for coffee for the nigh watchmen who are going home, and the day staff who are coming on (usually Lynne does this, but they’re away for two and a half weeks or so, so I’m happy to fill in).

7:00 – I make some oatmeal for breakfast, but just enough for me. Usually Lynne makes a big pot and leaves the rest for the workers. I didn’t think of this till after, and make a mental note to make a little more than I need next time.

8:15 – I walk to Grant’s house (another missionary) to plug in my computer and head to town for Saturday tuition (as they say, “tooshen”). Yep, classes on Saturdays (blasphemy!). I meet two women on the way and have a short conversation in Rendille – woohoo! As I walk, the sights and sounds of an African morning greet me – roosters crowing; a long line of Rendille women at the community water pump, yellow gerry cans lined up in the sun; elders squatting in the shade deep in conversation; little children’s shouts of “mzungu!” as I walk by; goats and sheep wandering among the dukas (shops) and huts. It’s a happy walk to the Tirrim Center.

9:00 – My first class is maths class seven. Even though it’s Saturday, I’m grateful to have the time, cause at least I can pre-teach a few difficult concepts in our upcoming unit. Break comes and I chill with some of the kids. When the time comes for the next class to begin (English class six), I find that my class has all left! There’s a big harambee on (a fundraising event for someone who’s going to university) and the secondary kids were watching a video (a big event in Korr!) so I think they all decided they had better things to do! I'm partly disappointed, but am grateful to have some unexpected free time.

10:45 – I begin wandering home, stopping when I see some boys from the school playing a game in town. They have a line of shoes lined up six or eight feet from a thorn bush, and are playing triple jump (double jump?) over the shoes and the bush. I stop to watch. Shortly after I get there, a big herd of goats and sheep cross our path, trampling over the kids school books. One book is ripped in half. The kids just laugh like this is normal (stampeding goats!!!) and carry on with the game once the goats are gone. One boy has rolled his pants all the way up to his thighs and all he has are two skinny little legs sticking out from under his T-shirt. At first I thought he wasn’t wearing any pants! Yikers! He’s one of my class clowns from class six, and he cracks me up! I watch as the boys play, and just before carrying on my way, I decide that I want to join in the game, too! I slip onto the path from the side and start running. Whoop! Over the shoes and I just pray I make it over the thorn bush, too. Falling on my toukas in a skirt in front of a bunch of my students would NOT quite be the effect I was going for. Not to mention the thorn bush would rip my legs to shreds. But huzzah! I made it! The boys couldn’t contain their disbelief (I like to think it was awe!) that their madam just totally joined their game and kicked butt! Buah ha ha!

11:30 - I wander home through town and head to Grant’s house to charge up the next computer battery, upload a photo, and send an email. I have a quick chat with a friend on Skype and show one of the pastors, who is also there, a little bit about blogs.

12:30 - I rush back home to bake a cake for my class, class seven, who is coming over in a little less than an hour for a class party. I want to show them the photos of our outing the day before, and just have a little fun. Maria, a girl from class four, drops by as I am baking, so I get her to help and invite her to stay. (She’s SO fabulous! She was over a while ago and I showed her a coconut that I brought back from the coast. We cracked it open and I gave her some to eat, and I showed her some photos of friends back home. I guess it was a good time, cause as she left, she flung her arms around me and said, “Madam! I HAVE to kiss you!”)

1:15 - The kids begin to arrive just as the cake is coming out of the oven. We wait till a good group shows up and then they all crowed around my laptop for a slideshow of photos from the term so far. They sit mesmerized for nearly an hour. Yes, I, er, have a lot of photos. I haven’t had a chance to cull them, but that certainly doesn’t matter to these kids. For most of them it is their first time ever even SEEING a computer, let alone seeing THEMSELVES on the screen! Before the compy completely dies, we all have cake and juice and just hang out. I have a ton of marking to do, so I reluctantly send them home around 3:30.

3:45 – Most of the kids leave, but the few girls in my class hang back. “Madam, we want to see your house,” they tell me (my room is in a separate building from the house where he had the party.) I invite them in and we hang out – they look at my “friend board” and just sit and chat for a while. I was happy to have some “girl time” with them!

4:30 – I wash the dishes from the party – there were lots and I didn’t want to leave them all for Samayon (a mama that Nick and Lynne employs) to do – there were too many!

5:15 – I sit outside and read my book, enjoying the golden evening light. I should be marking English books, but I’m tired!

6:00 – Marmalo, the head of the Tirrim veterinary project, comes with some medicine for the dogs. Tigger’s not eating, and Kuurte (sp?) was in a fight and has all kinds of cuts and a swollen “knee.” She’s too hurt and scared, and, though we try to hold her down, she wriggles around and the needle detaches from the syringe and stays in her bum! Gak! We get the needle out, but she runs away. Marmalo and Boya, our night watchman, go after her and hold her down. I'm glad I'm not the one who has to do it.

6:45 – I head to Jim and Laura’s for dinner (another missionary couple here in Korr), as I do every Saturday night. We have a good conversation about some ministry questions I’m having, and talk about feelings and responses to the drought the Rendille are facing. I’m encouraged by their wisdom and support, and am so grateful for them!

9:00 – I head home. I want to sleep in a little tomorrow, so I decide to boil water ahead of time and leave it in the thermoses for the morning. I leave the house key with Boya, so he can let people in the house in the morning. While the water is boiling, he sees my iPod on the counter and askes, “Waha a mehe?” (What’s this?). The best I can do is tell him it’s a radio. He looks doubtfully at the iPod, speakers, and battery pack, I’m sure thinking, “This isn’t like any radio I’ve ever seen!” I turn it on and his face lights up. He catches the tune and hums along. I translate the first song vaguely into Rendille, and say a few words as the song progresses so he knows what it means (God - strong!, Jesus, only you…). As I get out the cups and prepare the coffee for the morning, the water finishes boiling. I say goodnight to Boya and lock up the house.

9:30 – I head to my room, where I get ready for bed. I read my current John Grisham novel for a while, but a busy day and the heat of the desert have sapped my energy, and I am soon asleep.

It's been a good day!

Tids and Bits

So much happens around here that is fun and exciting, but would make about a three line post, so here's a collection of tids and bits from the last little while...

* I'm on mid term break right now. Four days of vacation. FABULOUS! We were supposed to get our mid term exams two weeks ago, but three supply planes came and went and no exams on any of them, so we decided to just do the exams later and go for break now, which means that it's a real live break and I don't have to spend my four days marking, marking, marking. WOOT!

* I taught a bunch of kids the Funky Chicken the other day. They were so chocked that their madam would do something so undignified that at first, when I started flapping my arms and knocking my knees, they all covered their mouths, screamed, and ran away. I modified it for the desert... no bacon sizzling, try "Let me see your chapati sizzle." No Frankenstein, try "Let me see your camel wobble." No garden hose, try "Let me see your hyena laughing..." They loved it so much that when we got to the end they wanted to do it all again. One girl told me, "Woooy, madam, it's sooo funnnyyyy!" and slapped my arm in a chummy gesture. She gave me a bruise!

* Scorpions seem to be thinking that my room is a cool place to hang out lately. It's not. I need a sign on the door that says, "If you enter, YOU WILL DIE."

* I started the 100 push ups challenge for something fun and exciting to do (what was I thinking?!), but after about a week and a half, my wrists really really hurt. I blamed the concrete floor (I really should have brought a yoga mat or something) and ditched. I felt kinda wussy, but oh well. Then I learned that my wrists were hurting from doing laundry, not the push ups. Now I feel even MORE wussy (seriously?! a LAUNDRY injury???), and have last my excuse for not doing the pushups. Dang.

* I'm almost finished making my Rendille necklaces, and some girls from my class are going to help me make a rimirimo (the headgear that the women wear). I'm excited! Along the same lines, I'm very much enjoying "fashion freedom" while I'm living here. My friend Trudy observed when she went to Niger that the rule seems to be "pretty + pretty = pretty" and basically anything goes. Green skirt? Pink shirt? Awesome! Hey look, I'm a peppermint! Huge bold patterns? The more gaudy the better! And sequins! Everything is better when it sparkles! (Right, Vicky?!?) And also, for example, I relish the fact that wearing a complete sack is the norm (a la my tie die dress/sac). It's SO COMFORTABLE, and I love it. Here's my demonstration of the totally un-Stacy & Clinton approved outfit. Oh, baby... runways of the world, LOOK OUT! This girl is FIERCE! (Buah hah haaaaaa!)


* After the mid term break, I'm going to try to start a really fun writing project with the kids (if they don't mutiny on me cause it's not the typical weekly boring-as-stink meaningless, reason-less "COMPOSITION" that they always so!). I want to know some traditional Rendille fables, so the kids are going to write them down for me. We'll revise, we'll edit (shocking!!! You mean, not just a one-off and hand to the teacher for some meaningless mark type work?!?!), and we'll make a good copy that will be published in a binder with page protectors. We'll make pictures to go with it, and I'll leave the book in the school library. Wahoo! They have a PURPOSE for writing! They're excited, and so am I!

* I'm rather amazed at technology. Here I sit, and my computer takes in my voice, and beams it over to the wireless receiver at Grant and Loki's house. The receiver sends it to the satellite dish, which in turn sends it to SPACE and bounces it back to Canada somewhere. It goes from the receiver in Canada to a phone network, and calls my family and friends and WE CAN TALK! Kinda like pulling a "nyah-nyah nyah-nyah boo-boo" at this remote desert place. Ha ha! But even better than that? I can TALK TO YOU!!! Seriously, folks, if I've talked to you, you have NO idea how happy that makes me! And if I haven't talked to you, why on earth not?! :)

* Ummm.... that's all for now! More tids and bits later. OH! No! I forgot! Tids and bits reminded me of Tim Bits, which reminded me of this: I made my own donuts today! Well, donuts is a term used very loosely. Basically I fried some lumps of dough in boiling fat. But mmmmm, were they good! All sprinkled with icing sugar and hot and delicious! AND?! I made maple syrup. I went out and tapped a maple tree in our backyard and... oh, wait. Nope - water, brown sugar, a little bit of corn starch, and some maple flavouring, and voila! Ok, Canadians, I know, it's not the real thing, but it certainly did the trick for my French Toast! (let me tell you how happy I was to finally find three eggs that didn't have chickens growing in them)

And here's a fun picture - just because - of me and a cutie patootie who came to sit with me at church last week:

Cross Cultural

Ok, so here’s the thing. Cross cultural stuff is hard. And rewarding, and frustrating and fulfilling and confusing and awesome. But six months here, and I’m still confused (I know, I know… it’s not that long!). I feel like I make so many mistakes sometimes… and other times I don’t even KNOW if I’m making mistakes. People are so gracious – sometimes I’ll ask if something is appropriate or the way things are done or whatever if I’m not sure, and they’ll always say it’s fine, no, there’s not problem… but I’m not sure I always believe them! And then there are times I know I’ve goofed, and don’t really know how to make it right.

Take today, for example. One period I was in class seven helping them with math. The next period I was supposed to be in class eight for their weekly literature period (I read each class a story every week!). But the bell rang, and the teacher was still teaching. And teaching. And teaching. Ok, fine, I guess he’s taking the next period, too? It’s mine, but whatever. I was supposed to go to class eight and he was supposed to go to class seven. He stayed there, so I started something else with class seven – more maths help and a small tutorial. There were fifteen minutes left in the period when the teacher finished his lesson with the eights and came to begin the lesson with the sevens, but by this time I was already in the middle of something with a few of them. I had to stop with the sevens so he could give his lesson (in fifteen minutes?!?), but by that time it was too late to read to the eights, so they were all disappointed and didn’t really understand why I wouldn’t come read with them. Gah!

Now, this teacher’s not bad – not at all. I’m sure had I come to the door at the bell, he would have stopped the lesson and let me in, but I heard he was still teaching, so I stayed with the sevens till he was done. Sometimes a lesson goes an extra minute or two… no problem! But when he kept teaching and kept teaching, I just started my own thing.

I was, however, disappointed to miss my one period a week with the class eights. It keeps getting pushed out for various (valid) reasons. So I wanted to talk to the teacher about it. But how?

Western culture values time – keeping time, watching the clock, not wasting or using a person’s time. Think about how you’d feel if a meeting went an hour later than scheduled, for example. You’d be annoyed! It didn’t end on time, you have other things to do, this person is taking up your time! Not so in Africa. It’s the relationship that takes precedence over the time. You have a million things to do today and you’re just about to run out to the store, but someone drops by for a visit. You drop everything, make a pot of chai, and have a visit. No fidgeting cause of all the things you have to do. No hurrying the conversation along so they can go and you can get on with your work. This whole sticking to the clock thing is a very western value.

BUT… in a school, we have to keep to the clock, otherwise we can’t run our schedule. It’s kind of an in-between place. Yes, he ran over time. But it was a much bigger deal to me than it was to him, so I can’t really go get all mad at him, cause we see the situation from different perspectives.

Also, our Western culture values going directly to a person who we have a problem with and sorting it out. Be up front. Deal with the issue face to face. But, I think, in African societies, saving face is much more valued. Maybe if you have an argument with someone, you don’t go right to them, but rather you find a mediator who will be the go-between until an agreement and resolution is reached. Now, I’m not sure if this is specific to Rendille culture, but it may be a general thing. So I’m not sure how to talk to the teacher. Do I go right to him? In what context? How do I approach is as a woman to a man? How much do I make of the time thing?

I probably will just let this go, cause it was one time, and it’s not really that big of a deal, but with everything I do, there are always these questions that I wrestle with. I want to do things the “right” way, but often I don’t know what that right way IS! And I have a feeling more often than not I’m a big ol’ Western steamroller.

Ah, how thankful I am for this:

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” James 1:5. Ooooh, send your wisdom, God!

Of course, there are SO many GOOD things about cross cultural work, too. I’m so grateful for the chance to see how life works in a totally different way – I think we in the West have a lot to learn from the Rendille, and from Africans in general. Community. A non-crazed, non-frantically busy lifestyle. Relationships. Work ethic. Faith. It’s not that life is simple here. In some ways it is, but it’s still life - incredibly complex, as it is anywhere. It’s just… different. I certainly have learned FAR more than I have taught (which is a good thing, by the way!). It’s just a wonderfully difficult road to walk.

What can I say? I love this crazy tragic, sometimes magic, awful beautiful Northern Kenyan life!

The Elbow High Five

I've had a number of new posts lately - scroll down or click here to see Drought, A River in the Desert, Operation Library, and Desert Alive.
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I’d been hearing rumours from the kids for a few weeks, but I wasn’t sure if they were true or not. Last week it was confirmed – there is officially a cholera outbreak in our district. It’s hard to know if it’s hit Korr or not, because there’s no way of knowing what happens with everybody out in the goobs (villages), but there have been confirmed cases in Loglogo and Laisamis, towns just south of us along the road, and there have been confirmed deaths because of it. Cholera, in it’s worst form, is one of the most rapidly-striking fatal illnesses known, and is nothing to mess with. People are definitely scared.

For this reason, Lynne got up in church last Sunday and made an announcement, telling people about what cholera is, how to treat it, how to wash their hands after “helping themselves” (don’t have water? Wash with sand!) and told people to avoid shaking hands if at all possible and just do a hands-free greeting.

I decided that this message needed to be repeated at the school, so at Monday’s assembly, I took a good chunk to talk about cholera (gah! What do I know?) and the same three points that Lynne explained to the church, and told them to spread the word to everyone they know. We definitely don’t want cholera adding to the problems the Rendille are experiencing right now with the drought and all of the related problems.

As for greetings, I didn’t think the kids would be so into the “kiss-kiss” on the side of the face kind of greeting, so I decided to make up a kind of a fun, hands-free greeting that they could use – the elbow high-five! I had them all practice, and it’s become a hit at the school!

Turns out it’s not just been a hit at the school. The kids took me seriously when I told them to tell everyone about it, and by Friday, a man came in from one of the faaaar goobs saying, “I hear we’re supposed to greet like this now!” and demonstrated the now famous elbow-high-five! Awesome! I started a trend! :)

Drought

I know I’ve talked about it before, and my posts about the rain may give a different impression, but the drought here in northern Kenya is really, really bad. The short rains in November and December of last year never materialized. It’s now June, and while God can send rain at any time, the long rainy season (April and May) has come and go with next to nothing. It’s a long way to November again.

Animals are already dying – goats, sheep, donkeys, cattle, even camels. No water means not only nothing to drink, but no grazing. People are taking their animals farther and farther to find grazing, but still nothing. And it’s not just the animals that are dying. We’ve heard that at least five men - herders out with the animals – who have died of starvation, and who knows how many more that we haven’t heard about. There is simply no water, no money, no food.

Relief food that is so desperately needed is coming, but is so restricted in who it is given to that it’s next to useless. There’s a one time emergency bit that’s coming from AIM, which might last a few weeks, but what of after that?

You know, because I don’t speak the language, I don’t hear people’s stories. I am working with the kids at the school who get a solid meal once a day (once!), and teachers who at least have a little bit of salary to live on. I don’t really feel the effects of the people’s cries for help or see the desperation that Nick and Lynne see every single day. But I know it’s out there. I hear the stories. I hear about the people in Marsabit who, even if they have a little bit of money for rice or maize meal, aren’t bothering to buy it because there’s no water to cook with. Mothers who are so starving themselves, yet walk for kilometers and kilometers to Nick and Lynne’s house to plead for a little bit of money to buy something for their children. People who make up all manner of stories for why they need money – a dying uncle, acceptance at a prestigious school, anything – in desperate hopes to get a few shillings to buy food. People who are so worried about their children that they just snap and go mental – literally crazy under the strain of worry and starvation – and wander off into the desert or just completely shut down and sit in a trance-like state. People who simply give up and commit suicide to escape the fear and the worry and the pain of slowly starving to death.

I hear the stories, but on Friday, I saw it for myself.

We drove out to Namarey, about 30km from Korr, to take a woman back to her goob who either has cerebral malaria or is one who has snapped from the strain of the drought. She had two young children with her – a baby and a toddler – and another of her sons is a pupil at my school. I sat in the back of the truck with her, and the whole time, she just stared off into space, occasionally rolling her head back and forth and looking around with empty eyes and and a half open mouth. When she got sick, she took the two young children from Namarey and just started walking out into the desert. Thankfully someone found her and took her to town for help. We were taking her back to her home where a family member would look after her and help dole out the medicine that she received from the dispensary.

When we got out of the car at the lady’s goob, many of the children came to see, and I began playing with them, as I always do. Often they’re shy and quite nervous about this strange white skinned creature coming up to them to shake their hand (sorry, to give them an “elbow high five”). There are the brave ones who come right up, those who take some coaxing, and those who stay hidden behind a brother or sister for safety and don’t ever venture out. But this time, there was another group. These were the ones on whom malnutrition and starvation had begun to take their toll.

I went to one little girl, maybe two or three years old, who was standing beside her mother and greeted her. “Aa nebey aa?” I asked her, holding out my hand. She didn’t respond, and at first I just thought she was one of the shy ones. But after I greeted her a second time, I saw that there was no recognition in her eyes. It was like she was looking at me, but didn’t see me. Her belly was distended, her genitals swollen. She didn’t shake my hand, and I can’t be sure, but I think probably because there was no strength in her skinny little arms to even lift them.

You know, it’s one thing to see the pictures on TV and in child sponsorship magazines of ‘starving children in Africa.’ It’s another thing entirely to take the tiny little hand of a child who is in the process of starving to death in yours and feebly tell them, “Yeesoo weyti aki ‘dona” – Jesus loves you very much.

I look around, and the need is soooo huge, and I am so small. I feel so helpless. There is nothing I can do. I can’t make it rain. I can’t raise huge amounts of money. I can’t feed these people. I, on my own, am powerless. But what I can do is pray – which is mightier than one might think. Will you join me? Though it seems hopeless, God is still in control. God sees the suffering of his people. Though we cry out and don’t understand, still God is good.

Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my saviour.
~ Habakuk 3:17-18

As I’ve been writing tonight, a song we used to sing at camp has come into my head.

My God is so BIG! So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.
My God is so BIG! So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.
The mountains are His, the rivers are His, the stars are His handiwork, too.
My God is so BIG! So strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do.
Can I add a verse?

The Rendille are His, the desert is His, the rains and the drought are His, too.
Oh, God, you are BIG! You’re strong and so mighty, there’s nothing that You cannot do.
And that includes bringing relief to the Rendille here in Northern Kenya.

A river in the desert!

I was in the middle of a Rendille lesson at my language helper’s house when the rain started. It was so loud on the mabati (corrugated metal) roof that I couldn’t even hear her when she was six inches from my ear. We finished what we were doing and decided to call it quits for the day. Anyway, this Vancouver girl was eager to go outside and enjoy the wet!

It was incredible! There were little rivulets flowing all over the sand and rocks, and I had a hunch that the lagas (river beds) would be flowing. I was right! Everywhere I looked, little lagas were full of water. I heard the sound of kids shouting behind me at one of the bigger lagas on my way home, and headed over. By the time I got there, it had stopped raining, but the effects were still able to be seen.

I was amazed at what I found – a raging river flowing through the middle of the desert! It wasn’t very deep (maybe to my knees?) but it was wide and swift. The rocks at one side created huge rapids and the water was just gushing down the laga. There were all kinds of people gathered to see, but nobody was crossing. The water was flowing too fast. I dipped my toes in the side just for fun and people all began shouting at me, afraid I would try to cross and would be swept away. We just stood and watched, amazed at how such a short rain could create such a river!

As the rain had stopped, the water began receding fairly quickly. Boya, one of our night guards, helped an old woman across with her bundles, and I quickly joined the kids who had bravely ventured in a little farther upstream. And what does one do when in a river with children who see this kind of water only every couple of years? Begin a water fight, or course! They were a little reluctant at first, but soon discovered that HEY! This is FUN! and loved the idea of splashing the crazy mzungu.

Already mostly soaked, I decided to pull some dramatics and lose my balance and "fall in" to the river. I joined the other kids who were allowing themselves to float downstream a little. The water was maybe a foot deep at this point, so, lying on my back with my feet downstream (mostly so the water wouldn’t carry my skirt up around my ears!), I straightened out and floated down the river (just trying to ignore what might be in the water I was now immersed in! Ah! Fresh rainwater… right?). The kids were all amazed – “Madam! You know how to swim?!?!” I didn’t have the heart to tell them that lying in a foot of water and bumping my butt and my elbows on the rocks beneath me didn’t exactly count as swimming!

After the kids started dispersing, I soggily wandered home, taking a moment to enjoy the view. The clouds had mostly gone, and the setting sun turned what was left of them golden against the pink sky. The river had dwindled to a quiet babbling brook – a sound that was at once familiar and foreign. The birds were twittering and I could hear the laughter of the kids farther upstream who had remained to play.

In another hour or so, the water would be gone completely, and by the end of the next day, the riverbeds were dry again and the rain was but a memory. I learned that for these lagas to flow, especially the big one, is quite rare! It’s been a at least few years since there’s last been water in it, so I’m really grateful I got to experience it!

Operation Library

The school library was in pretty rough shape last term. What very few story books we had were all over the place, tattered and torn, and nearly lost among all sorts of random books and documents. Among these were an eight year old document from the Kenyan Electoral Commission, a Nokia phone manual, and a large political and legalese document on the Middle East Peace Process under the Clinton administration. There was a pile of old posters and teaching aids in the corner, random art supplies, cards, and bits games on every shelf, and torn soccer balls in a bucket in the corner.

There was a system for checking out books, and the teacher in charge of the library is a really committed guy – offering to help and go the extra mile for the kids all the time. Some of the kids used the library, but the fact is, it was so hard to find things that it made it nearly impossible. The kids have one English text book between four or five if they’re lucky in most classes – in my class we have one book for the whole class – so even in English class they rarely get practice reading. And yet, on their exams, they have two passages to read and answer questions about. I continually was tearing my hair out asking, "How can these kids learn to read if they don’t have any books???" Arrrrgh!Last term I started going to each class once a week to just read to them – a story a week – and they love it! It’s a good start (and a fun part of my week!) but they need to read for themselves! If they actually had BOOKS, and if they’re organized and neatly displayed, they might actually want to read! And when they read, their English will improve, and their writing will improve, and they can learn all kinds of new things, and their world will be expanded by leaps and bounds! And of course, if they read and understand story books for themselves, the hope is that they’ll read and understand the Word of God for themselves, too!

Ah! If only they had some BOOKS!!!

When I was raising support to come to Kenya, people were SO amazingly generous and I ended up with a surplus in my account that I could use for special projects and the like while I’m here. I decided to use some of that surplus to help with the library.

While I was in Nairobi in April over the school holiday, I went to as many different book shops as I could to try to find some books. It’s actually really hard to get good picture books for kids here in Kenya – reading for pleasure is often a foreign concept here, so the market for kids books is not great, but I was able to find a decent assortment to start with. (Ah, to have Scholastic deliver to Kenya!!!)

BUT, I really didn’t want to spend all this money (money people have donated in support of what I’m doing here, especially!) to buy books and throw them into the library as it was. It needed to be cleaned, organized, and the kids needed to be taught how to take care of the books and the space they had…

Thus began I think the biggest cleaning job I have ever undertaken. Thank goodness for eager helpers! We sorted books, pulled and repaired torn books, sorted posters and teaching aids and rearranged furniture. We organized art supplies, arranged sporting equipment, untangled skipping ropes, made posters, and threw away a lot, a lot, a lot of junk and old paper. We found teacher’s long lost notebooks of notes, sorted puzzle pieces into different puzzles and bagged them, labeled shelves, and put up photos. And then we swept. And swept and swept and swept and swept and swept. I’ve never seen so much dust in my life! The wind blows pretty much constantly, the windows have no glass, and the library has no door. The kids sweep the classrooms daily, but the library doesn’t get swept. Korr being a desert and all, that makes for a lot of dirt!

A lot of the repairing, sorting of books into vague reading levels (easy, medium, hard), and poster making happened over the break, but a lot of the cleaning I was able to do in the first week and a half or so of this term when I had spares. Many kids offered to help, which I gladly took them up on when I could. As they passed by the window and saw the library slowly getting cleaner and cleaner, their comments were so sweet and a definite encouragement:

– Woooy, madam, you are working hard today!
– Madam, now it really looks like a library!
– Madam, you are truly doing a good work!
– Madam, may God bless the work of your hands! (awww!)
– Woooooy, madam, you must really love us!

Bight and shiny new, it was ready to be opened, but I decided to keep the library closed until I could go around to each class and take them in to show them how things were put away and labeled, how to check books out, and how to keep the library neat. “If you can keep it aaaabsolutely PERFET like this until next Monday,” I told them, “THEN I can bring all the new books!” I had told them all that I had new books right at the beginning of the term, so almost daily somebody asks me “Madam, where are the new books? Can we see them???” I tell them, “Yes! But first I have to see that you can take care of what we already have. I don’t want to bring in new books and have them phoot! thrown all over the floor!”

I tell you, these kids can’t WAIT for these new books, and they’re doing a great job keeping the library clean. But the thing that makes me SO excited is that they’re ALL READING! Every break, every lunch, during morning preps, that library is FULL of kids! I think the other teachers might be a little annoyed with me, too, cause there are SO many kids coming to ask for initials in the check out book that they’re feeling more than a little overwhelmed! And I haven’t even brought the new books in!

There is still a loooong way to go with stocking this library, and I’m hoping that I can maybe strike some deal with shipping or SOMETHING to try to get more books to the school once I get back to Canada. Many things you can just buy in Kenya, but books are difficult. I don’t know… I’m thinking book drives, Scholastic coupons, whatever I can do to get these kids a decent library and get them READING!

AH! I’m SO excited!

Desert Alive

You know, it’s absolutely amazing how this desert comes to life after just a tiiiiny bit of rain. One night just before I got back to Korr from being in Nairobi in April, I heard that it rained for about half an hour over night. We has seven minutes fo rain overnight one night shortly after I got back, then about two weeks ago it rained again in the late afternoon for another half an hour. An hour and seven minutes over three weeks… and the desert is alive!

Trees that looked absolutely dead – just sticks and thorns – are now covered in little green leaves, making the hills look completely different. Little green leaves have sprouted up through the rocks and soil, and are growing big and tall. At first glance, it still looks pretty barren, but in comparison to what it was, there is green everywhere!

It’s not just the flora that has come to life. There seems to be a cycle of flying, jumping, crawling things that arrive after the rains. Moths, beetles, inchworms, you name it. They all come in cycles – first the rain, then the moths, then the beetles, then the inchworms… kinda reminds me of the plagues of Egypt! :) In addition, the scorpions are out, the spiders are out, the flies are out… everyone’s showing up for the party.


With all the green around, too, the sheep and goats (development agencies have dubbed them “shoats”) have come back to town and they are everywhere. As are the donkeys. Grazing at the school, grazing at the church, grazing in our yards… I helped two nearly three year olds chase a whole herd out of Grant and Loki’s yard this morning! Following the sheep and goats are the hyenas hoping for a tasty meal. Life certainly abounds around here these days!


Among the goats and the bugs and green, I found this on my way to school one day, and it made me smile. It amazes me how God is constantly bringing life from the dust and the stones. With a little water, this dry and thirsty place is coming alive. Hmm… sounds kind of like what’s happening to my heart!

Surpirse!

Don't you just love coming to my blog and seeing THIS in your face? These guys like to hang out in my room every night. It's pretty fun.

Sorry, my story teller seems to be broken these days. I'm having a hard time making time, motivation, and computer power happen all at the same time to get some stories up. Camel rescues, desert rivers, sleepovers, holidays, funny kid limericks... for now, let me just say that along with the various insect plagues after even the littlest bit of rain come lots and lots of hunting spiders. Big ones. In my bedroom. I think they're technically not spiders, but they look like spiders, so that's good enough (or bad enough?) for me. Super huge and lightning fast, they are really really creepy. And, oh yeah, they jump, as I discovered after trying to take this one's photo while it was on my door holding a large cockroach in it's jaws. GAK! It jumped off the door towards me and I may or may not have done a little heebie jeebie dance, complete with squeals. It then ran back up on my door, and into the crack between the door and the frame. I slowly closed the door enought to kill it, and it made the most horrifying CRUNCH! Bleurgh!!!!

Once I was convinced it was dead, I scooped it up (it's front legs apparently stick straight up when it gets crushed?) for a photo session. Aren't you glad I did that???

Posts, posts, and more posts!

This is what happens when I write posts offline, bit by bit. I have a million posts that I've started but have not had time to finish, and then when I have a bit of free time, I can finish them all off and end up posting them all at once. Then YOU get here and go "AAAAK!" So here's a list - read 'em all now, or read 'em bit by bit. Just scroll down to see them, or click the links to take you straight to post. Adagta? (do you understand?)

1. Snippets of a Desert Life - Insect Invasion!
2. The Little Megaphone That Could
3. Over The Desert And Through The Oasis, To Kalacha Town We Go!
4. Not So Sparkly

Enjoy!

Snippets of a Desert Life - Insect Invasion!

Just before I arrived back in Korr, they had some rain – half an hour of heavy rain that fell overnight. That’s been about it for this rainy season – not nearly enough for what is needed, but just enough to bring out the bugs!

Before the rains, the flies, looking for moisture, were getting worse and worse and worse. Nick and Lynne told me that they couldn’t even open their mouths to talk without nearly swallowing a fly. With the rain, the flies have dispersed and the moths moved in. For a few days, there were moths EVERYWHERE, and Nick and Lynne would sweep up a mountain of dead moths from the floors in the morning. Now the moths have seemed to go, and it’s beetles. They drop from the ceiling and fall in our hair, our food, everywhere. They fly into the walls and drop to the floor with pings and ticks and clicks. The noise in my room last night as I was trying to fall asleep was incredible!

Though there has been very little rain, it’s been cloudy the last few days, which doesn’t bode so well for the solar panels that supply us with light at night. About 9:30 last night, the battery died and all our lights went out. Nick and I grabbed our headlamps and tried to continue working on our computers, but, the lights just above our eyes was a perfect magnet for the beetles and lingering moths. Needless to say, we didn’t get much work done. Moths fluttering in our eyes, beetles dropping on our heads, and flies crawling all over the screen of the computer made doing anything rather difficult. A grasshopper even hopped onto Nick’s computer and then jumped into Nick’s face!

Perhaps that was God’s way of telling us to make it an early night!

The Little Megaphone That Could

In town there is a tiny mosque with a huge loudspeaker that broadcasts the daily calls to prayer. The Imam goes to a microphone inside and sings out the call five times a day and it can be heard through the whole town (and all the way to Nairobi, I’m sure!) But the other night, around 9:30pm, we heard something strange. It wasn’t the normal time, nor was it the typical call to prayer. I just figured there was some special event happening at the mosque or something (this is quite typical) and though no more of it.

It’s coming up to a new moon once more, so the nights are darker than dark here in Korr. The Rendille know their way around, so many are still out once the sun sets. It turns out that it’s not just the Rendille who are out.

A few nights ago, a few of the Tirrim staff were walking just out of town and saw two men coming towards them. They greeted them, and it became clear that these men didn’t speak Rendille. It also became clear that they were carrying large guns. It would seem that our two warrior friends were back.

The Tirrim guys ran to town to the mosque. They told the Imam what they had seen, and he quickly flipped on the megaphone and began speaking in Rendille, “Everybody, look out! There are two men with guns walking around town. Go back to your houses and just stay inside.”

Everybody did just that – they went inside, locked or barricaded their doors, and the chief and the District Officer drove around most of the night patrolling and looking for the men. Most likely spooked by the megaphone announcement, the sudden disappearance of all the people from town, and the sound of the two pikis (motorbikes) starting up, the men were not seen again.

Ha HA! Foiled again!

Over the desert and through the oasis, to Kalacha town we go

Every year, all the missionaries in Northern Kenya get together in Kalacha, about a three hour drive north of Korr and very close to the Ethiopian border, for a retreat. I made arrangements for other teachers to cover my classes, and I got to go along, too.

We set out after lunch on Monday, and just a few minutes into our drive we saw them – ostriches! Tons of them! There was a big… herd? gaggle? chain gang? of teenagers who were still grey and kind of shaggy (typical!) but a ways onwards there was a mama and papa ostrich with a little baby. We slowed the car to get a better look, but still we spooked them. The papa ostrich spread out his wings and started running away from the mama and baby in an attempt to distract us. Apparently, an ostrich will even fall to the ground and play dead so that a would-be predator will come after him instead of the baby (but look out when you get close! You’re in for a might big kick!). With another small group of teenagers on the road, we drove the car up to them and stopped. “Have you got your camera ready?” I did, and we stepped on the gas and chased them a ways before they all scattered. I know, I know, PETA would kill me, but chasing ostriches across the desert in a land cruiser? AWESOME!

In an hour and a half or so, we reached the Chalbi desert...

Click here to keep reading. Pick up the story where the text is regular size.

Not So Sparkly

It is a pretty incredible experience living here in Northern Kenya. There are so many things that I love about it – standing in the back of the land rover driving trough the desert, my hair being whipped around by the wind. Watching the old ladies at church slowly move from the bench to the floor as the service progresses because they find sitting in chairs incredibly uncomfortable. Hearing the bleats and bells of the animals as they slowly start to return in anticipation of the rainy season. The beauty of the land and of the people, their overwhelming friendliness, and their incredible faith. I really could go on forever.

But there are other things, much more important things, about living in Africa that are harder to deal with. One of the big ones is poverty. I know, I know, when we in the West think of Africa, we think of poverty, of corruption, of famine, of seemingly insurmountable problems. Poverty has been talked about a million times in a million different ways, but to catch a glimpse of what it really looks like is another thing altogether... Click here to keep reading.

In your mind's eye no more! - PHOTOS!

Woohoo! I've (finally!) got photos up! There's a lot, but it's ok, I probably won't be posting again till I'm back in Niarobi again in July (or till I'm home), so you've got lots of time to browse. There's a new link on my sidebar that will take you there whenever you want.

I'll slowly be adding captions over the next few days, I hope! (They're also all on Facebook, if you want to look there).

Click here to see where I am and what I've been up to!

Tirrim Secondary School

Tirrim Primary School began in 2004, with the dream of one day opening a secondary. For years, they couldn’t begin and couldn’t begin and couldn’t begin – there are huge startup costs, salaries to pay, boarding to provide (Tirrim school are charity schools and require no fees from the kids), a school food program to run… not to mention the challenge of where to meet!

Finally, this fall, Nick and Lynne got word that there was a huge amount of money come available for AIM missionaries to fund a project that they only could only dream of - all they had to do was apply. In November, Nick and Lynne and the Tirrim committee decided to take the plunge and start the secondary school. Some of the project staff moved out of their house to make room for one classroom and a small staffroom. Work was done to convert the house to a classroom, desks were constructed, textbooks bought, and, most importantly, word got out all over this and the neighbouring district that there was a free school in Korr. Students flocked to apply, and thirty students were chosen (that’s all the cramped little room could fit!). Students arrived and the school officially opened in January.


Tirrim Secondary is the first secondary ever for Rendille students. People all over the north heard about it, and people in Korr were so proud that their little town now had a secondary school. But they weren’t the only ones excited…

At the beginning of the term, Laura, one of the teachers, asked them to write a composition. She said, “I don’t know you - tell me who you are, your story, where you came from, how you got here…” All thirty kids wrote about how grateful they were to be in school. Most knew that there was NO way that they could ever go to secondary. Their families have no money for fees, and the nearest secondary was far, far away. Paying for boarding was out of the question. A few almost didn’t write their class 8 exams – why even bother if they’ll never get to secondary? Each one talked about how they are so grateful to God for a chance at an education. Reading their thoughts and their stories brought Laura to tears - composition after composition told the same story… all these kids had never dreamed of being able to continue past standard eight, and now they had a chance…

And just what will these kids do for an education? David, the youth pastor, was also talking to the students about their stories. What they told him might give you an idea.

One student is from Songa, about 150km from Korr, where raids and tribal fighting have been particularly bad recently and dozens of people have been killed. He heard that there was a free school and decided to do whatever it took to get there. He walked – WALKED! - 60km from Songa to Lochlogo, got a lift from there to Namarey, and then walked the remaining 25 km to Korr.

Another student is an orphan from Merille. He heard about the school, so he walked to Laisamis (30km), asked the way to Korr, then walked the remaining eighty-five kilometres to Korr. He walked through lion and wild dog country where even warriors walk two by two armed with spears. He walked alone, just him and his small bundle of belongings, the hope of a better future ahead of him.

Yet another student was from Korr, but had been going to school in Marsabit, about 100km away. He was in form three (the third of four years of secondary), but knew that he was getting into the wrong crowds and didn’t like where his life was heading. When he heard about the new school in Korr, he decided to drop to form one and start all over again. The youth pastor asked him one day if the school was the same as the one he left. “No! Not at all! This school is bathed in prayer, and I’m learning things I’ve never learned before. I always knew about God, but I never knew that he loved me!”

This little school has brought such hope to these kids. Unfortunately, they money that was supposed to come through to fund it, that was supposed to be a sure thing, never came through. Now this little school is hobbling by, salaries paid personally by the missionaries here in Korr (something they absolutely can’t afford), and they are unsure if it can even continue next term, let alone next year, let alone expand to form two when the form ones move up. We can only trust that God’s got something up his sleeve, because he’s definitely working...

The last day of the term before the kids went home for the April break, they were having a special evening to celebrate the end of the term. They’ve been having a short time of Bible teaching daily, and a weekly Bible class, and they’ve SEEN the difference it makes to go to a Christian school. And during the devotion time on the last two nights of the term, they were given a lot to think about. First, Ndubayo, one of the ladies from the church, spoke to them. As she was finishing, she told them the following:

“You are very fortunate. You know how to speak English, and you know all these subjects… I’ve never been to school. I don’t know these things. You will have opportunities that I never had. BUT,” she said with a smile, “I have a degree! I have a degree in knowing Jesus, and that is the most important thing. You know all these things… make sure that you know about Jesus, too!”

The next night, the last night of term, the kids were given an invitation to accept what they had been learning and to give their lives to Jesus. Fifteen of them - half the school – stood up.

This little desert school is changing lives – bringing hope through both education and the gospel, and we are waiting to see how God is going to provide a way to open again in May. I’ll keep you posted! In the meantime, please pray for the school, and especially for these kids. God is doing SUCH amazing things!

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This post isn’t intended to be a push for money at all, but if anyone is interested in helping out, or knows organizations who might want to help, I want to give you the opportunity. Please contact me at hello_hillary @ yahoo dot ca for information if you’d like to help!