Back in the USA (or, The first thing I ate was donuts, I won't lie)

I’m sitting on my couch at home as I type this sentence. Looking up, I see the familiar furniture, the familiar pictures, even the familiar Christmas decorations that we put up every year around this time. My younger brother is playing with one of the dogs, patting his lap and praising the little guy when he finally makes it up.

It’s nice and it’s also really weird because it means I’m no longer in Kenya.

Five months and a bit later and I’ve returned back to where I started. But I hope I’m not the same. So I’ll take some time for reflection now, because I have a month before I’m off to my next site in Geneva (very different from Kenya).

Let’s begin with the physical changes (mainly because those are the most obvious). Firstly, I lost weight – about 20 pounds actually. I had to assure one of the sisters in Kenya that, as an American who doesn’t always eat the healthiest things, losing weight is a perfectly normal consequence of changing to a healthier and fresher diet. My sister was somewhat shocked by my decreased waistline, but as Christmas is coming up, I’m sure it will return to normal soon enough. I also have a bit more color. Considering that I am ridiculously white, any color at all is more than I usually have. Since I got sunburned about three days before I came home, the very, very slight tan is more noticeable than it usually would be.

But the physical changes are easy to notice. Behavioral changes are little bit more difficult to tell. Even so, there are few things that I’ve already noticed in the two-ish days I’ve been home. For example, I take really short showers now. I didn’t take particularly long showers before, but after spending two months in Karare during a drought (without hot water for most of the time as well), I’m much more conscious about my water usage. Same thing with electricity, but less so than with water. There’s also a part of me now that always wonders what else I can use something for after it’s been used for its initial purpose. Maybe this scrap paper can be used for decorations down the line, or maybe this misprinted document can be used to test weird p0rinting jobs. I’m sure this will eventually get on some people’s nerves as it can also lead to the unfortunate habit of hoarding. And I do not want to end up on that TV show.

Then there are the things that will appeared more slowly as I readjust to my home and family, the things that are emotional – or spiritual. There are an awful lot of things to be thankful for I’ve realized. For a house that not only gives you shelter, but is filled with memories of time with family and friends. For electricity that doesn’t turn off without warning, leaving you in darkness. For people waiting for you at the airport with signs that say, “Welcome home, we missed you.”

My time is Kenya has taught me that sometimes it’s the smaller things that we should be the most thankful for, because they are the things that bring us the most happiness. Despite what it may seem like sometimes, I can live without conveniences. While the internet is great, I won’t fall apart if I don’t have it. While telephones are amazing, my world won’t end if I can’t call someone whenever I want. Having a glass of wine is nice, but sharing a glass of water with a friend is more meaningful.

While I’m pretty private about my spirituality (though my name is pretty much a dead giveaway), I was living with Catholic sisters. I was able to go to Mass almost every day and participate in evening prayers and rosaries. There’ll be another post later that will touch on some of the things I worked through in Kenya, but suffice to say that having those moments for spiritual renewal were very important to me. And I’ve changed because of them as well.

A lot can change in five and a half months, and I’m still only halfway through my year! I’m not closing the door on the Kenya chapter of my life because it’s not a chapter; it’s a theme. It will continue to reappear again and again, scattered throughout the pages of my existence, the characters appearing in flashback scenes to offer comfort and guidance (and maybe even reappearing in person).

So here’s to my time in Kenya! May I be forever changed by the things I did, the places I went, and the people I met!

One To Go (or, I'll be home in a week???)

I only have one more week here in Kenya, which is weird. Today I leave Makuyu to go to Dagoretti, so I’ll be finishing my volunteer experience in Kenya the same way I started it. Poetic.

BUT, I’M NOT GONE YET. So have some pictures of what I’ve been doing this week at the oratory camp here!

SPIN!!!!

Getting some slide time in

How many people can we fit on this?

...That is not how you go down a slide.

The adorable Dermas, Ann's little brother

Sr. Eusebia with some crazy kids

They literally just picked this kid up for the picture

Gotta fix the hair, you know?

SOCCER!!

Spectacular jump ropers jumping rope

Learning about family and responsibility

Brainstorm session: How to fix the world

Lunch time!

Lunch can be a little crazy

But everyone is happy with food!

Especially Cecilia (named after Sr. Cecilia!)

(That one in the back doesn't look very happy, does she?)

A child found a red pen

It was a creative child

Let's learn!!

As Dagoretti doesn't have Wifi, you won't be hearing from me again until I'm back in the United States. So until then,

Kwaheri!

Learning About Possibility (or, Thoughts on women's empowerment)

I have arrived back in Makuyu from Karare! Which means that I have consistent Wifi access again! Huzzah!

But yeah, I had a nice long car trip yesterday from Karare (we left at 4:15 in the morning) along with Sr. Placida, Sr. Cecilia, the school accountant (David), and the driver, Charles.

And while there are a lot of amazing things that I experienced while in Karare, there was one thing that really pulled at me in a negative way. I’ll tell my interesting stories at the end of the post, but I want to dedicate the majority of it to an issue that is extremely important to me, as a student and as a woman.

Exams in Karare finished on Wednesday with the physics practical, but most of the girls had finished the day before with home science. However, the girls were not supposed to leave until Thursday, on the bus to Marsabit together. So the sisters were very surprised to see a man and woman enter the compound late Tuesday morning when no one was suppose to enter until exams finished. They were the parents of one of the girls, Joyce, and they had shown up with no previous warning to tell the sisters they had to pick up Joyce that day so that they could go begin preparations.

For her wedding.

Straight from being a high school student to being a wife. No time to relax with the other girls after finishing exams, no time to wait for her scores to come back to see if she’ll make the grades for university.

The sisters were all very upset about it, and apparently Sr. Placida had some words with the father. But it didn’t matter. A visibly upset Joyce got into the car and left.

It breaks my heart, this buying and selling of girls as if their lives are equivalent to a few cows. Some of the girls are ‘booked’ for marriage within the first few years of their life, and grow up knowing that they don’t have a choice in who or when they will marry. A more disturbing thing I learned is that in some places, it is acceptable to steal a girl from her family, keep her for three or four months, and then the thieving family can go to the girl’s family and apologize. And it’s effectively forgotten.

The sisters have told the girls that they can flee to the convent if they ever need to, that they would protect them as best they are able. The problem is, if the girls did then they would be outcast from their community. As in, they would effectively become dead to everyone. Culturally, refusing your family’s wishes is committing suicide.

During the goodbye to the Form Fours, each sister asked the girls to wait to marry. They told them that they only had one life and it was theirs if they had the courage to take it. The thing is, for many of these girls, there really is no other option. It’s hard to even think about the number of girls I’ve come to love that got off that bus in Marsabit only to begin planning their weddings. I don’t know how many let themselves think, ‘I don’t want to get married yet.’ It’s tantamount to torturing yourself if you know that running would destroy your only support system.

In fifty years, the Diocese of Marsabit has seen many men be ordained as priests. They have had only one woman become a sister. And it’s not because the religious don’t encourage vocations or because there are no girls who want to become sisters. The reason is that culturally, it is unacceptable for women to make their own decisions about their life.

I want you to think for a minute about your life. About the decisions you’ve made, good or bad. Pick the most important decision you’ve ever made.

Imagine that you weren’t allowed to make it.

That is what these girls live with. Even with an education, they’re blocked in on all sides. Sr. Placida told me that during class one day, she asked the girls to write down things that girls were not allowed to do. Though no words were said, the words written on the page were vitriolic and full of anger, the girls noting all the things that they were not able to do because of their sex. They know their situation and they know more than enough to be angry about it.

The idea that women are lesser is perpetuated by people in the community, even people who should know better. At a seminar, one priest noted that “women’s brains are 80% water, which is why they are so scatterbrained and don’t think things through.” When one of the sisters relayed this comment to me, I could have punched a priest for the first time in my life and felt completely justified.

It’s nothing that hasn’t been said before. The same reasoning has been used for centuries by men, and even women, to put down women as a whole in a community. But for things to change, the people who hold the power, in this case men, have to support changing the way women are treated.

I have been afforded so many opportunities that my girls will never have. I was raised by one of the strongest and most independent women I have ever known and if she taught me anything, it is that if you want to do something, you can work hard and make it happen. I was encouraged to travel and learn and experience new things, and even if my mom would like it if I dated more (at all), she wants most for me to be happy. A thousand cows wouldn’t change her mind.

That’s what I want for the students of Bishop Cavallera Secondary School, the female students of Don Bosco Day Secondary School, and all the girls in Kenya. The opportunity to become the amazing women they are capable of growing into.

So I’m going to post the information about my Mazzarello Fund again, and I ask if you can donate even a little, please do so. The Salesian sisters are doing their best to do exactly what I said before: give the girls the opportunity. The girls living in their dorms, in their children’s home, and the ones attending their school. Each little bit counts towards something greater. And hopefully, we’ll give girls the chance to grow into the incredible women they are meant to become.

Donations may be tax-deductible. Send through VIDES+USA.                                                 
               

Go to http://www.vides.us/donate.html

Be sure to dedicate your gift to "Kenya-Mazzarello Fund."


(1) Use a credit card at PayPal or Network for Good on the VIDES+USA donate web page 


(2) Or mail a check made out to VIDES to: Sister Mary Gloria Mar 6019 Buena Vista Street, San Antonio, TX 78237 USA.

Interesting Stories of the Month:

• I saw two deacons get ordained as priests the Saturday Advent started and even though it was hot as crap, it was still really moving. (I may have started tearing up when they put on their vestments for the first time. Just a little.) So have some pictures of that!

Kids from different parishes dancing like woah

It was so hot, they held umbrellas for the priests-to-be

Getting blessed by the bishop!

Getting blessed by literally every priest there!

They're so happy!!!

Thank you, thank you very much.

Dance of thanksgiving, as you do

No spoon at the afterparty, so, you know, fingers work

• We celebrated Thanksgiving (because I’m American!) and even though we had no turkey, we were able to make shepherd’s pie after I stressed the importance of potatoes to my people (particularly my cousin Kevin). We also have to sing and dance when we present the cake, and since it was my holiday I was asked to do the honors. So I sang God Bless America. It was awesome.

The heart was my little touch

Begin singing God Bless America...now!

• I also saw a zebra on the way down country! 

LOOK AT IT!!!

I will spend the next few days in Makuyu and then head down to Nairobi until my plane leaves. Only two more weeks! Time has flown!

Kwaheri!