Township, A Happening Place

It's Friday October 29 and I have a holiday: it is Prayer Day, an annual tradition to give Class 8 students a bit of divine intervention as they face the exams for secondary school. The marks on the national test determine where/whether a student goes to secondary school. Free public education in Kenya ends at Class 8. The rest of us simply miss another opportunity to get some learning done...

Yesterday was quite the day at Township. Shanon and I had a house guest at the beginning of September, Nikole Lim, who is a cinematographer from the US, working for the Army. In an effort to get sponsorship for children overseas, she was here to film the stories of two Class 2 students at Township. Shikuku was abandoned by his parents and left in the care of his grandmother who struggles to feed him and his brother. The other student is a bright, beautiful little girl, Jentrix, who has one eye and AIDS. When Nikole previewed her photos in California, there was an outpouring of support to give new uniforms to Township Class 2. FYI, for $1000US, Shanon was able to get uniforms, socks, and school shoes for 92 students; she very graciously included my 3 kids, whose picture is featured above (Paul was absent)! The newly turned out children in Class 2 walked a little taller on Thursday.

Birthdays are not celebrated nor much acknowledged by families in our neighborhood. When asked how old she is, Lily who is a teen will tell you she is 4! So in the Special Unit I have taken the opportunity to honor each child on his/her own Friday. We have had sweeties (candy), cake, juice, favors, and a set of colored pencils for the honoree. Lily and Bery were thrilled and their mamas were there, too. Paul has put in his order for November 5: cake, candles, and balloons! We have not had candles or balloons previously, but I will get them for him. They do their work so much better that day, as the party starts at 11:30am.

The library is being prepped for the books. The sagging shelves have been made right; more shelves were added around the perimeter of the room; glass has been put into the empty panes (which was all of them). Now we must return the books Township has back to their shelves and get the new books.....it is a work in progress.

A Farewell to Army Leaders

It was a Kenya kind of day. I took a Wednesday off from school to learn the dance; I wanted to participate in the Grand Farewell for the Kenya West Commissioners and I certainly wasn't opting to sing or play a horn. After dashing for a newspaper, I was showered and dressed by 9am, ready to dance. By 10am we had lost electricity and no one had shown up to practice. There were lots of best guesses as to how to play the CD with no power. By noon I had to run to Posta to get my package but returned by 12:45 when over 100 of us were getting lined up. The space we were in was too cramped so we moved to the parking lot, renewing speculation as to the best way to play the CD in the parking lot. By 2pm we had gone through the dance, very akin to a line dance, one time and broke for lunch. Between 3 and 4pm we got in some more practicing and I felt I could pull it off.

Sunday was the day for the Grand Farewell. I walked to the stadium in a white blouse and navy skirt, my best shot at fitting in. As I approached the venue, I saw hundreds, then thousands of people standing in lines under their Salvation Army Divisional flags. All were dressed in their white uniforms - there is nothing quite so African as thousands of black people in white uniforms, as long as you're sure it isn't a military coup! Quite confident I was not part of the march, I ambled into Bukuhru Stadium and found a seat under a canopy. The divisions marched in review past the Commissioners; the Territorial Band played during the hour of review, and I was surely impressed. The Army's presence here is powerful and Kenya West is a force in this neighborhood. The departing leaders are from the US, having been assigned to form the new territory in 2008. The Army's presence in Kenya is growing so quickly that the Army has 2 territories in Kenya, a nation about the size of Texas. What an incredible tribute to two white leaders in sub-Saharan Africa.

As you might have imagined, I danced divinely, and I am so glad I was a part of such a Big Deal. There will be a comparable welcome for the new Kenyan leaders in November, but at that time I will only be here for 2 more weeks, so my dancing days are numbered.

No Job Security

Term 3 started on Monday September 6. About two weeks later at a staff meeting I noticed a Special Unit schedule posted on the board, but I did not pay much attention. My day-to-day routine has been unchanged since I started teaching in January.

A few days later I gave the posting a bit more scrutiny. There are 5 teachers at Township that have been trained to teach students with special needs. As noted in a previous blog (BUSTED, June 13), none has ever shown up to join me in the classroom. I studied the schedule for our Special Unit and found that I was not even on it; it was rubber-stamped and approved by the Deputy Headmaster in charge of Curriculum. After the school's dressing down in Term 2, I had been scheduled to teach only 2 classes each day. But nothing changed in the classroom, only on the schedule posted in the Staff Room.

The September schedule was an eye-opener. The 5 teachers were all assigned to teach in the Special Unit, but it was the two periods at the end of the morning that got my attention. The schedule reflects Pre-Vocational Training and includes knitting, crocheting, and tailoring. I ran into the teacher assigned for the Pre-Vocational Training and she asked me if I had any of those skills; I told her I knew how to knit and she was very happy to hear I had a pair of knitting needles. I then pointed out to the man who keeps the schedule current that I taught all 6 morning classes without help from any of the 5 Special Unit teachers. He simply replied with vigor: " Noted! It is duly noted!"

Term 3 is half over this week. The posted schedule remains intact. I still teach 6 classes each day by myself. A volunteer teacher could feel a bit insecure, but guess they can't afford to fire me.