Doing Dagoretti

So first of all, I back dated the crap out of my last post because there isn’t any internet at Dagoretti. Nothing wrong with that, it just meant that I wasn’t able to post when the post came to its natural end. 

Anyway, we left off with Sr. Anna taking me to Dagoretti which is about 15 minutes outside of central Nairobi without traffic and an eternity with it. Luckily, we avoided most severe traffic (but I wouldn’t have wanted to be going into the city – that road was backed up like crazy.)

Found some cows

Slums on the outskirts of Nairobi

I was introduced to Sr. Vero who welcomed me and gently ushered me upstairs to my quarters and told me to rest for a bit. Sr. Anna added that they usually start evening prayer at 5:45ish and that I was welcome to join.

Dagoretti!

My bed! (with a mosquito net above)

The sisters' quarters

Found her! 

After evening prayer, I was served a lovely dinner on this lovely placemat!

Awwwww

Now, onto the interesting stuff!

(Not to say this other stuff isn’t interesting stuff. It’s just not the following interesting stuff.)

The next day (Wednesday for those who, like me, have been losing track of the days), Sr. Anna walked me over to the school behind the convent just in time for the before school assembly. There’s not a ton of kids, but the purpose of this school is to actually get kids up to speed so that they can go to normal school. So for the younger kids this can mean learning their letters and basic maths. For the older kids, it is a bit more advanced, but that is because they are attempting to catch up to kids their age in normal school.

So the thing is, I was supposed to work with Teresa (wonderfully kind woman) as a kind of teaching assistant for the younger kids. The thing was, the older kids’ teacher…well, he didn’t show up. Therefore, only twenty minutes into my teaching career, I was asked if I could please fill in as the teacher (sole teacher!) for the older kids, ages 11 through 15. And what did I say?

Of course!

I mean, the teacher didn’t show up! What are you going to do in that situation?

On the plus side, the kids were able to somewhat help me out by letting me know what they had been going over. (I say somewhat because I’m pretty sure they told me they needed to work on things in English that were easier than what they had actually been learning. Eh, c’est la vie.) We did some geometry (ALL THE ANGLES) and sorting by alphabetical order (surprisingly difficult) before break, during which I played a number of clapping games and embarrassed myself at jump rope (I was wearing a skirt, okay?).

Teachers and students during assembly

Play ALL THE GAMES!

After break, things…a polite way of putting it would be ‘dissolved into chaos.’

It was creative arts time, right? So I asked them to do some drawings of Paulina, the previous volunteer. One of the boys, Simon, went and retrieved some coloring pencils from another classroom and war effectively began. Boys were throwing pencils, physically fighting over certain colors, desks were being moved, sticks were being found, a ball mysteriously found its way into the room –

Yeah, I totally lost control of the class.

Luckily this happened right as we were approaching lunch so when we went outside, I was able to grab Teresa and basically inform her that I had no idea why some of the boys were yelling at each other but that I figured she, as a speaker of Kiswahili, probably had a better chance of figuring it out than I did. She agreed and shooed me off to lunch with the sisters where I was able to take a quick breath and welcome a visiting sister who was at Dagoretti for the afternoon.

Teresa took over the afternoon lesson for English, and I watched as she interacted with kids. I don’t quite have a handle on it, but there is a very different teaching style at the school in Dagoretti than I am used to. There’s a lot more laughter from the teachers, kind of joining in when students make fun of each other or making fun of students themselves, but they can turn a switch and suddenly be much more strict or discipline a student that is acting out. I don’t understand a lot of the cultural context yet, so it’ll be interesting to see how my understanding develops during my time in Kenya.

After class finished, I was able to take some time to prepare lessons for the next day (using school books Teresa generously lent to me) and relax a bit before evening prayer. Since we had a guest, we actually started praying the rosary in the kitchen, with me leading as the sisters continued to make dinner, before moving over to the chapel for actual evening prayer. We had a nice dinner and I helped clean up before heading up to bed.

On Thursday, I mentally prepared myself for another crash and burn (despite having prepared lessons – actual lessons), but was presently surprised to find a face popping through the door about ten minutes into the start of my math lesson. Joseph, the prodigal teacher, had returned!

Hey, Joseph

Nice of you to show up

Though I still did my math lesson for the two hours that I originally planned. I put together a sort of review of things the kids should know as they go to interview and see if they are at a high enough level to switch to normal school. It basically started as a pop quiz and then turned into a teaching moment whenever one of the students didn’t know how to do the problems. Joseph was actually super helpful because he could help students that were struggling with a lot of the concepts while I checked over the work of the kids that had a better grasp of the problems.

During break, I was attacked by small children who I then carried around like handbags. Seriously, once they found out I could carry two or three at a time, they latched on like monkeys and refused to let me go. It was both adorable and terrifying.

After break, Joseph led a science lesson about light until lunch and then after lunch (which was basically pot roast, it made me so happy) we split a lesson about the different types of mountains. In case anyone is wondering, I am not an artist. Therefore, drawing the tectonic activity that leads to block mountains was a little difficult and led to a lot of well-hidden embarrassment.

The next day Joseph abandoned me and made me teach the two-hour English lesson in the morning while he got the easy job of supervising movie time after break. 

Watching the Karate Kid

Jerk. After school, Teresa asked me to say some things to the students (even though the little ones can’t really understand a lot of English yet). I told them that they were all so smart and that I knew if they continued to study hard, they could get ready for senior school and become whatever they wanted to be. As I said this, I was thinking of one of the boys in my class, James. He told me that he wants to be an engineer so that he can build airplanes that are everything proof. He tries so hard in class, I can’t help but think that if he really wants to, he can do that and more. He, and the rest of the kids from Dagoretti, will be in my prayers as they continue on.

That evening, the sisters took me to mass (in Kiswahili!) and we said our last evening prayer together before having my last dinner in Dagoretti.

Sr. Anna kindly forcing a banana on Sr. Vero

Sr. Vero lighting things on fire

From left to right: Sr. Anna, Sr. Eleanor, Sr. Lucy, and Sr. Vero

Interesting Stories of the Week:

• Not only is there a school at Dagoretti, they also have technical classes! My favorite was the knitting room, because they make adorable and awesome sweaters for small babies.

So. Cute!

• Also, the Mama Margaret project out of Dagoretti takes orders and has some amazing things. The beadwork is incredible. Make contact with them if you want anything handcrafted and gorgeous! 

I’ve now arrived in Mukuyu, and as I now have Wifi, I should be able to update more frequently! 

Until then,

Kwaheri!

Getting to Dagoretti (but first, Kenya)

They told me to expect the unexpected. Unexpectedly, I have been reassigned from the slums of Dagoretti to Mukuyu, a larger mission that sisters run about an hour outside of Nairobi.

But before we get to all that, let me take you on a journey. It’s a pretty boring journey to be completely honest. I got to the airport in Dallas about an hour and a half before my flight and checked my luggage, unfortunately having to check my carry on bag because it was too heavy, and got my ticket. I did the usually TSA security mess: take off your shoes, take out your laptop, empty your pockets, put your feet on the yellow marks and raise your hands over your head. Once done with that, I filled up my water bottle and got in line to board. They looked over my passport, tore my boarding pass, sent my down the ramp to board the plane, and then –

Oops.

So remember that TSA bit? The bit about emptying your pockets? Well, usually I don’t have anything in my pockets. The thing is, when I had to check my carry on bag, I took out the breakables or things I absolutely did not want to get lost on the way to Kenya. This included my camera and the USB drive that had all the forms and documents I would need while in Kenya. So guess where it and my wooden rosary, blessed by the bishop with a cross given to him by Pope John Paul II, ended up?

In my pocket.

I’m walking down the ramp when I pat my pockets and realize – crap – I left both of these very important things at TSA. Well, as it turns out, once they’ve torn your boarding pass, you are no longer technically allowed to go out because of security reasons. However, the TSA, because of security reasons, will not give anyone forgotten items that are not their own. Including flight attendants who run to the farthest TSA checkpoint to try and grab the aforementioned forgotten items for their forgetful passenger. Eventually the head person at the flight check-in desk let a flight attendant accompany me (after they took my passport and ticket stub) back to TSA to grab my stuff. The whole time we are power walking there and back, the flight attendant’s walkie talkie is going crazy with people demanding to know if there is anyone else that needs to board the flight (YES. I NEED TO BOARD THIS FLIGHT), and he is loudly saying into the mouthpiece, “We got the stuff, we’re on our way!”

Anyway, I made it back and was able to get on the plane and fly to Dubai. Obviously. Since I am now in Kenya.

Nothing much more exciting or traumatizing happened. Watched a million movies on the way to Dubai (slight exaggeration, but only slight), had a four hour layover there, and then watched three movies on the way to Kenya. Though I did end up sitting next to a woman who works for the UN in Nairobi, and she offered to set me up with a tour of their offices if I have time while I’m here! So that was pretty legit.

I managed to get through customs will little hullabaloo, and we’ll see how the visa extension process goes when I try to get through that.

When I got out of the airport, I figured I would be able to tell who Sr. Lucy was, solely by virtue of her habit. Unfortunately, I drastically overestimated the simplicity of getting picked up at the Nairobi airport. Luckily a nice taxi driver took pity on me and offered to call Sr. Lucy for me to let her know where I was. (Thank goodness I had a picture of her phone number, otherwise things might have been a lot more traumatic.)

Sr. Lucy and Sr. Rosa picked me up and took me to the Provincial house in Nairobi since it was too late to make it out to Dagoretti. There I also met Melanie, who stayed up to welcome me. She is actually in Tanzania, but to renew her visa she has to leave the country every three months for a week. Sr. Rosa gently insisted on feeding me (cheese sandwich and hot milk – strange but satisfying). Sr. Giselle also showed up to say hello and took the opportunity to inform me that I would be in Mukuyu instead of Dagoretti and that I would head there from my original posting on Saturday. With that bombshell dropped, I went to bed.

(Though honestly, I was too mentally exhausted to actually be shocked. You know when you become so tired that you stop being tired? Yeah. That was me.)

The next day, I woke up, took a shower (my hair is so poofy now!), and wandered around looking for someone to help me out – or feed me. And I found someone who could do both! Martha provided me with bread, jam, and warm milk (I sense this may become a theme) before showing me over to the Maria Romero Children’s House.

Saint Mary Mazzarello!

Courtyard at the Provincial House in Nairobi

Lunch with the sisters

She introduced me to the girls who are currently there (some are on a trip), and I was promptly made to assist on math homework and hone my Swahili skills. Thanks to them, I can now count to one hundred as well as say a smattering of random words and phrases! Mvulana, boy. Kiti, chair. Naenda kulala, I am going to sleep.

Classroom of the Maria Romero House

Drying clothes!

Playground for the kids

Look at the mural! So cool!

Chopping and skinning pumpkins

After that, I was kindly bullied into helping the girls skin pumpkins (which looked nothing like American pumpkins) and potatoes (which looked exactly like American potatoes). I was called away by the sisters for lunch, after which Sr. Anna arrived to take me to Dagoretti!

Interesting Story of the Day:

The girls tried to teach me how to dance. It…didn’t go well.

Until next time, kwaheri!

And So We Begin...

Every story has a beginning.

Technically, my story begins on a Friday in 1991 with my mother insisting that she’ll come back to the hospital after her work meeting, despite the fact that she is already in labor. However, we can fast forward past that and the next 23 years. We want to get to the good part.

The scene opens on our protagonist applying for internships in her apartment, growing increasingly terrified as she realizes that she has no idea what she is doing with her life, nor what she wants to do with her life. Cut to a montage of our protagonist losing sleep, struggling to eat, and watching a lot of Netflix as her anxiety continues to grow. There is also a lot of Youtube videos.

We’ll pause here for a moment for a brief spoiler: Our protagonist is going to be totally fine. Promise. Unfortunately, these bad moments are part of life.

Continuing on. The montage fades away to show the protagonist at her computer. Zoom in on the screen. There we see the familiar Facebook header, and below it a profile picture, somewhat odd due to the fact that a sister – a wearing-the-habit type of sister – is the subject. Our protagonist moves her mouse over the message button, clicking softly, and…

The rest is history.

Oh, other stuff happened in between now and then. There were applications to be filled out, reference letters to ask for, a funeral to attend (more on that at a later date), but what it all ultimately led up to was this moment. Me, packing a suitcase with (hopefully) six months worth of necessary supplies before I leave for Kenya.

This isn’t the first time that I’ve traveled abroad, nor is it the first time I’ve been to Africa. However, this will be the longest time I have been away from my family and the first time I have had a real job to do while abroad. Studying is work, but it doesn’t necessarily constitute a job. (Though I’m still not certain exactly what this job will entail – clues suggest education and possibly assisting with other development projects that the sisters run.)

Oh yes! I will be living with five Salesian Sisters in Nairobi! This has given me the priceless opportunity to tell random people that I will be living with nuns, which usually results in them pulling a confused face and me internally chuckling as they slowly ask what exactly that means. What it means is that I will be living in a convent (dormitory style!) with five Catholic sisters during my time in Kenya. VIDES (Volunteers in International Development, Education, and Solidarity) is a non-profit organization partnered with the Salesian order to allow people ages 21 to 35 the chance to volunteer wherever Salesian sisters may be.

Now, the Salesians’ charism (or in simpler terms, their vocation) is to educate and accompany youth, especially the poor, throughout life. This means that the Salesian sisters largely focus on education and other development work to help young people grow and develop into the amazing people God has called them to be. Throughout this blog, I’ll give small insights into how the sisters do this, but suffice to say that the phrase ‘preventive system’ will become very familiar.

Tomorrow I will hop on a plane and begin my journey to Kenya. Though I don’t know exactly when I will have internet again, I will update as often as is feasible and try to include some pictures of what’s going on. Also! I will usually have the last section of the blog for interesting things that happened that day. So here is the first.

Interesting Story of the Day:

• I CHOPPED OFF MY HAIR. I HAD SO MUCH HAIR AND NOW I DO NOT. THIS IS SUPER WEIRD.

See you in Kenya!