geoff in kenya: Stories

I realized my last few post have been a bit ‘heavy’ so I thought I’d also update on the lighter side of things and share a few stories with you.

Since I moved to my new place at the University Farm, I have been living a bit outside of the actual town of Kisayani. Furthermore, since I make a lot of field visits I also thought that I could have use for a bicycle instead of paying for bodaboda motorbikes to take me everywhere.

I tried finding one to rent for a month, but bikes here are used heavily (most often to transport water) and I couldn’t find one to use on a constant basis. So instead I ended up buying a bike, with a friend of mine who split the cost. When I move I’ll leave it with him.

To shop for bikes, we had to go to Kibwezi. We looked around for a bit but I didn’t find any I really liked for a good price. The next day I gave my friend the money and entrusted him to bring me back a good one. He came back with a bike, but not any ordinary bike—a sturdy one made bike that everyone else has. Instead he brought back a mountain-bike (I use the word ‘mountain’ lightly). It came with all the bells and whistles (literally) including: bells, flags, front and rear lights, gears, horn, mirror and fenders. As if I didn’t already stick out enough here …

"Long long ago...MEN of making bike have a DREAN..."

Anyway, this has been my casual means of transport over the past few weeks. So far I have had 5 flat tires, the horn has fallen apart, the flag blew away, and the lights don't work. One time I was riding and the handlebars nearly fell off. Needless to say, this was cheap Chinese-made bike. The label itself reads “Star Plan: Long ago…. Men of making bike have Drean”; whatever that is supposed to mean.

The bike has served me well though, and I get around on short distances. On the longer distances I have actually taken motorbike lessons and learned how to ride which has been a good side-result of my Star Plan shortcomings.

So cool

Another fun story from the past week I thought I’d share comes from a visit to a school I made. Another good friend of mine is a teacher (he also knows of my blog-hello!) at a school well off of the main road. Just this past week was the Kenyan National Examinations, a pretty big deal around here. All students finishing primary school and moving to secondary have to write standardized tests in English, Swahili, Science, Social Studies, etc.. The best of the best go to the top national schools while the bottom percentiles are held back or put it not so great schools. I went to visit his school the day before the examinations, a school that is 40 minutes out of Kisayani even more underdeveloped. The school was underfunded, understaffed, and has no water or electricity.

Once I arrived at the school I was introduced to the head-teacher showed around the school and I was able to greet the classes. At some points I was left to talk to the kids about Canada: what we eat and how cold it is there. The kids are unbelievably shy and would just inaudibly whisper their names if I asked them. After giving a few lectures on the wonders of Canada to the children I was called outside.

The head-teacher had arranged the entire school under a giant baobab tree, maybe 200 students from pre-school to standard 8. I was told I was supposed to give a speech to encourage the kids before their national examinations the next day.

Children eagerly awaiting my words of wisdom.

Not too surprised—having often been called out on the spot to give a sermon or in a church—but a little hesitant, I stood up and addressed the kids about the importance of education, and how I had spend the last 19 years of my life in school and how I too had written my fair share of exams. Since it was a very rural community, most relied on their 'mother-tongue' (Kamba) for their day-to-day language so I needed a local teacher to translate, which allowed me some pauses to figure out what to say next. Nonetheless I ended up at one point saying some stupid phrase like “knowledge is power”, to which the teacher got the kids to shout it and pump their fists in the air.

By the end of my speech I asked if anyone had a question for me. Since the kids were very shy I didn’t expect any. But one of the older children asked me “how old are you?” I told them I was 23. The kids all laughed at some of the older students. One of the teachers later told me that some of the 8^th graders were 22.

I also asked why these kids were so shy. The teachers explained to me that it was because many had not seen a white man before. Then the teacher in front of the whole crowd asks for show of hands ‘who has seen a mzungu?’ Less than a quarter put their hands up. Then one of the teachers thought it was a good idea to get each of the kids to greet me. So, they formed a queue and one-by-one I shook the hands of each of the 200 or so students.

Some speech that was.