we can beat them forever and ever

a bit of everything all mushed into a few paragraphs…

on our first day our exploring in nairobi, in particular around the kawangware slum, I showed mum the t-intersection where I was hit by the car in 2013. since then, if we’ve been past it she’s sighs, saying “oh victoria” like only a mother can and if she was catholic, i’m certain she’d do the whole sign of the cross thing too. it’s a very funny story now looking back and I am very lucky to be able to laugh about it but yes mum, I do agree I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that phone call also. 

one of the days on our safari in the maasai mara, we were encouraged to join in the welcome dance. nobody else wasn’t game enough to do something out of their comfort zone so I obviously put my hand up to join in. the higher a warrior jumps, it means the lesser number of cows he has to pay for his future wife. I am not the highest jumper, or the most graceful. dad was also offered 20 cows for me to marry the tribe chiefs son john (who was super cute, by the way), however I told him I’m worth at least 50. unfortunately he doesn’t have 50 cows – yet. 

one thing I never miss about nairobi is the smells. I certainly never miss the smell of shit in the air, or the smell when it’s rubbish day, the constant haze of smoke of people burning their rubbish on the side of the road, the body odour or when buses or matatus spit out thick black smoke right in your face as your walking. my lungs definitely appreciate going home to australia!. 

our safari driver thomas told us he affectionately refers to impalas as “money back”, because if you don’t get tired from seeing them on your safari, you need to get your money back. he also taught us a new phrase… “african massage”. it’s what he uses to describe the almost 6 hour drive from nairobi to masaai mara (dirt roads/pot holes, crumbling ashphalt, etc). I had such a giggle. he also took a big liking to me as I’d been in kenya before and can speak a little swahili. 

as I’ve written before, when I’m in kenya I wear a wedding ring. in past trips, it’s just been easier to say my husband is at home working or some other excuse as men can be quite relentless in their “flirting” (read: marriage proposals, mostly). however this trip, mum was called “mother in law” by most of the men working at the lodge on our safari, insinuating I was to marry one. because really, there aren’t many 26 year old “married women” who travel with their mother. (but even if I was married, I’d still come to kenya with you mum), one of the guys also told me that “you obviously belong in africa, therefore should marry an african man and I am 30 and you are 26 so this is good”. I can’t 😂 just the brazenness – is that a word?! – how good would life be if everyone just said what they were thinking, asked people out and didn’t beat around the bush? #thesimplelife

our last day at school was so much fun. popcorn and biscuits, sweets and lollipops, fanta and face masks. usually on a friday, sammy (one of the helpers) has music playing and the kids take it in turns to dance in groups. but considering our last day was wednesday and we were having a bit of a party, the dancing started at about 3pm and didn’t finish until at least 5:30pm. these kids have the best moves, so natural, unlike me! I can whip out the old awkward side step, maybe the microwave and the sprinkler, and that’s as adventurous as I can get. 

malaria still causes as many issues as it has, with numerous kids at school being treated for it over the past while, including little beth, evelyn’s youngest daughter named after my sister. malaria is a cruel disease which still kills an obscenely huge amount of people in sub-saharan africa each year. we have purchased a further 38 mosquito nets for the newest kids as well as for the remaining kids who hadn’t yet received one from donations from a friend in canada, kelsey. no more mos-kwee-toes (how it’s pronounced here!!). speaking of malaria, you should watch a film called martha and mary. 

apparently kenya is going plastic-bag free in august this year. thankgod, is all I can say because this city – as well as all in the countryside – is littered with plastic bags. so much so that they’re impacted into the earth and in some places actually look like the ground is growing plastic. can’t wait to (hopefully) see a difference the next time I’m here and also, find out what they will use instead. 

just a little note to all those who have sponsored a child with us… thankyou. I know we’ve said it before but I truly, swear to god, hand on my heart mean it. three weeks ago we arrived in kenya to arrive at school and see all our sponsored kids in their new uniforms. three weeks later, on our last day, a few came to pick up their siblings from little ray and it was so wonderful to see them so happy, smiling with their friends and dirt on their uniforms…. getting to be kids. it’s just fantastic, so thankyou!

many people have written on photos or sent messages saying how amazing it is what I’m doing/what mums doing. that’s very kind however we do next to nothing compared to the day in day out constant work that our staff do. teachers evelyn, rachel and harriet, as well as our cook agnetta, are the ones who do this everyday, every week, every month, during the year. it’s extremely humbling to be a part of and I feel like I am the lucky one. lucky that that almost four years ago, I came across this place and these kids, and then could share so many responsibilities with someone who has fallen in love as much as I have, anna. I admire her so so much for living here and seeing the kids every week. you can see just how much they love her – I wish I could stay for a long time again but it’s just not possible, yet. I was once told a quote by a very wise person: “the two most important days of your life are the day you were born and the day you find out why”… and I am certain that this place is my why. 

until next time, kenya. x

I’m a teardrop in an ocean of flames

our first day at little ray of hope was just like every other time I’ve been back.. full of laughter, smiles, singing, clapping and cheers. it was just the best day.

we walked up the dark stairs, then along this walk way on the 1st floor of the apartment building into the iron door you can see just there. that’s our school. two tiny rooms packed with 91 kids this year.  lots of tears when I saw evelyn, that she swept away from my face with her thumbs. then hugs for mum, these two women finally meeting was pretty special. then the roar of cheers from the kids as we enter the classes, many of the littlest ones I don’t know – it’s been two years since I last was here. but evelyn had organised for all our sponsored kids to have a day from school to come and spend the day with us – that was awesome. these are all little faces anna and I have been showing to you guys on facebook or instagram to get sponsored and here they are; dressed so smartly in their new uniforms, proud as punch to tell us that their new school is great. 

I know I only speak kidogo kiswahili (a little swahili), but lots of the most used phrases came rushing back as soon as I stepped into the classes. kaa chini (sit down), maliza (finish), nyamaza (silent), kula (eat)… the extent of my swahili to be honest. 

I remember that if you shout “1,2…” then the kids say “zip” and they’re quiet (mostly). I remember all the prayers they say before their porridge, before their lunch, and before any snacks we bring like yogurts or biscuits etc. 

“when I want to pray, I put my hands together, I close my eyes, I bow down my head, then I’m ready to pray. oh god, bless our ‘porridge’ in jesus’ name amen. thankyou god for this day, amen”

I guess maybe the best moment of this week has been seeing our last three boys who needed to be sponsored receive their uniforms and books, as they were all sponsored by a recent visitor to little ray of hope named robyn. anna and I have organised many children to be sponsored over the last 3.5 years, but I’ve never seen their faces when they get their uniforms or textbooks. evelyn asked the boys – basil, rooney and bruno – to go and try on their uniforms and mate, if you could’ve seen their faces; the sheer happiness and pride in putting them on. I can’t explain it, and I wish all of our kids sponsors (current and future) could just see the change in these boys the minute they put on their newest uniforms – it makes all of this worth it. for all of the kids. and then, seeing the reactions of their mums or their guardians; one of the guardians had tears seeing rooney dressed and couldn’t thank us enough. 

and it’s not even us they should be thanking – it’s all of you guys who have graciously decided to sponsor a child for their schooling. it may seem like a long commitment but these kids benefit so much from having a chance. with many street kids addicted to sniffing glue or petrol, we so badly want the best for these little ones. and the opportunity for anyone to come to nairobi and visit their sponsor child and the school isn’t out of reach – unlike something like world vision (not being rude, just saying it’s harder in massive organisations)

it’s been a big week though, between many tears and many smiles. it’s either exteme happiness or utter sadness; I’m not sure if I’ve found an emotion for in the middle, at least for when i’m in kenya. evelyn has organised that the kids who are malnourished get fresh fruit everyday, something that our money goes towards. the fruit man comes and delivers apples or oranges each day and there are 6 kids who stand and eat their fruit before going home. 

such a wonderful initiative that hopefully we can do for all the kids one day. 

so much writing, but that’s our first week. x

someone told me always say what’s on your mind

using this blog feels a bit funny this time over as I’m not so much traveling alone – which in itself is weird for me!! but I am lucky enough to have my mum experience kenya with me for 3 weeks; her first time, my third time. 

finishing night shift thursday morning then flying thursday night was a bit of a challenge. I know I’m a beast of a grumpy, impatient, intolerant human the day my nights finish so I honestly thought I’d be murdered by mum by the time it came to board our flight. yet I live to tell the tale; thanks mum 😘

saturday came along and I desperately wanted to get out and walk along all the old roads I used to walk every day – and to show them to mum. my family have lived in kenya vicariously through me all the weeks I’ve lived here and yet to show it to her in person is something else. from walking along naivasha road to ‘deliverance stage’ (stage is what they call informal bus stops) where all the matatu’s (small vans) congregate and the drivers yell out the window for you to get in “kibera, kibera, kibera, 30bob”, to walking up the dirt road to get to ‘green gates’ (our old host family’s home) passing by all the little shantys and stalls selling anything from shoes to electronic wires to bananas, to then cross the insanely busy ‘congo stage’ to walk to school. as much as you can explain a place to someone, you can’t ever imagine what it’s like until you see for yourself. I walked mum up to where little ray of hope is, but being a saturday no one was around. and then the best thing was being reunited with my amazing friend anna, over two years since I last saw her here in kenya and so so much has happened in those two years. so much happiness and such sadness. i’m so lucky to have her in my life and also to be at little ray much more often than I get to be. we went out for delicious ethiopian at habesha restaurant – I think we’ll be back a few more times before we leave!

sunday was super busy! between the david sheldrick elephant orphanage and the giraffe center which are both in karen (a wealthy suburb on the edge of the nairobi national park) then crossing town to check out two rivers, a new shopping mall which is apparently the largest in east africa, to heading home and collapsing into a delicious 500ml bottle of tusker beer!

how close we were to the babies when they left after being fed. one of these guys got confused and walked into the rope leading to me being pushed and covered in mud 😂

hunnay, dat your neck, it do like dat

 

it’s actually fun being a tourist here with mum; I have never really acted like one, I’ve acted like I lived here – because I did. it’s fun being moderately stampeded by a baby elephant who got stuck on the barrier rope and then wearing red mud for the rest of the day. it’s fun being in a city you know so much but yet your taxi driver sits and patiently explains so much about politics and poverty and generosity and different tribes. 

I don’t want to speak for mum but she has mentioned that the biggest shock is the blatant and obvious difference between those who suffer from poverty and those who don’t, and the small distance of less than a kilometre that separates them. alongside that, she’s surprised kenyans take such pride in their appearance and yet the streets/gutters are strewn with plastic bags, rubbish, food scraps etc. and I guess too, the surprise of a herd of cattle meandering the roads grazing or random goats bleating amongst the shops as there is little grass on the farms due to the current drought.

anyway, that’s just a bit of our first 2 days before we got to school. the next one will be all about our kids and our first days at little ray of hope. x

snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

so having returned back home, I realized I maybe shared 5% of the photos I took. I’m not huge into uploading photos of buildings on facebook (unless of course it was princess mary’s place) and while I did upload a lot of food pics to instagram, by no means is that all of them. 

so here ya go, a picture tour of copenhagen: the things my eyes liked to see… 

 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

   
                                     

 

she said shut up and dance with me

   

nearly two weeks in copenhagen and I’m in love. this city is exactly what I thought it would be; lots of coffee, incredible food, delicious wine, friendly people, attractive men, charming landscapes. it’s a dream. 

except that everyone wears jeans and runners. well, not everywhere can be perfect.

my time here has involved a lot of exceptional food and a lot of wine. there has been only two days where I haven’t had at least a good handful of glasses of some sort of wine. sorry liver, but this kind of extravagant holiday happens once in a lifetime – so I’m doing it properly. in 12 days, I have been to: studio, radio, manfreds og vin (4 times), amass, brør, noma, geist (twice), AOC, bæst, kadeau – there will be seven michelin stars in total, after last nights adventure to relæ. I’ve also had coffee at coffee collective, market shopped and ate at torvhallerne (twice), ate baked goods from meyers bageri, had breakfast at grød (a place that makes only porridge for breakfast and then only risotto for lunch), had coffee at lillebrør (twice) and I’ve done it all by walking. I know, I know… when in rome, do as the romans do – I wanted to hire a bike and ride around with shit in the attached basket but I come from a country where cyclists basically play russian roulette with their lives as idiot drivers swerve around them, we also drive on the other side of the road… I still cross the street looking in the wrong direction, so I think riding a bike would be a death wish (for me). though I still have two days, maybe there’s hope for me yet.

anyway I could very easy write about every restaurant I’ve been to, but I’m not a food critic and I don’t like spoiling the surprise for people who might make it to this unbelievable city to do a similar thing to what I’ve been doing.

but noma will be my exception. I’m not about to write a review, god knows I’m not qualified to be impartial or critical of the world’s best restaurant. but I will write about the four and a half hour lunch I had on thursday 9th april; because I want to be able to re-read it myself in days/months to come and remind myself of how happy that day was (and how much my cheeks hurt that night because I smiled so much). it was the same happy I feel when I go back to little ray of hope; the kind of happy where “walking on sunshine” would be playing if you were in a movie. 

I had originally organised my annual leave a month earlier than what I currently have, but I then realised noma would still be in japan doing their pop-up. so I frantically changed my annual leave, and my flights, to have the chance to get a booking. but in typical shift worker fashion, I was working the night the reservations opened. and to make it even worse, I couldn’t even take my dinner break to make the reservation (it was about 8pm aus time) because I had to pick up my patient from recovery after surgery. I quickly called my sister and rudely interrupted her study to get her to go online and try and make me a reservation – any date, any time – between the 3rd and 16th of april. unsurprisingly, I found myself a spot on the inevitable “waiting list”. regardless, I was coming to copenhagen to eat. I knew I didn’t have a reservation, but that wasn’t going to stop me having the best food eating trip ever!

anyway, I left kenya and made it to copenhagen (after that life changing business flight) and had my first food experience at studio – which has been one of my favourite experiences thus far and spoke to the chefs/waiters/sommeliers quite a lot throughout the meal – it must be because I am eating at a restaurant alone; I’ve learned that people are extremely interested when I tell them I’m in copenhagen to eat. I swear some people assume I’m a critic. one of the guys asked where I was going, I replied, “everywhere but noma!” (which is no word of a lie, I literally went to every place I could). and he told me a cheeky little secret and said to call each morning at 10am when the lines open (and when you can get through) to see if there have been many cancellations. 

well, mate, you completely changed my life with that little nugget of wisdom. 

tuesday was the first day I called, and after perhaps only 10 attempts to get through, the lovely guy I spoke to told me that according to the system, all reservations between then and when I leave have been confirmed – however, he told me to just keep calling each morning because “you never know”. I won’t lie, I felt a little defeated – so I went to manfreds in jægersborggade (the coolest street in copenhagen) and had a very nice and potentially unhealthy amount of wine and food, and headed off to amass for dinner. (both are incredible places)

wednesday morning rolled around and I tried calling again – 20 calls this time until I got through, and somehow the universes aligned, all was right in the world when she checked the system and she told me there was a place available on a shared table the following day for lunch. I may have stopped breathing, I may have squealed when I got off the phone. I know for a fact I burst into tears and was sobbing when I called my sister. unless you have the same love for incredible restaurants and memorable food, you won’t understand my reaction. this is something I’ve wanted to do for years… and I was finally going to get the chance to do it. I mean, I came to denmark knowing I didn’t have a reservation, and I wouldn’t have called if I wasn’t told to, so I would likely have never got in – and I was perfectly okay with that. but now that I was going? well, that puts a whole different spin on this already incredible fortnight. 

thursday morning arrives and I’m so excited I don’t want to eat. partially because of the excitement and partially because I don’t want to not be able to eat every, single, thing I would be served. I was also really nervous: at least eight years I’ve been desperate to visit denmark because of this restaurant, and what if it was horrible? what if it didn’t live up to the hype? what if it wasn’t worth the money?

well, it was’t horrible. it totally lived up to the hype and was completely and utterly worth the money.

  

grilled onion with shoots and capers

  

sweet shrimps in ramsons with rhubarb/grasshopper broth

  

100 year old mahogany clam and grains

  

shaved monkfish liver

  

langoustine and flavours of the ocean part 1

    

langoustine and flavours of the ocean part 2

  

male and female lumpfish in cheese, whole milk

 

 

black garlic flower

 

    

roasted bone marrow, this dish needs to be memorialised somehow. that much bone marrow for one person makes all your problems go away!

  

aerated icecream with bitters and hazelnut oil

  

chocolate and forest flavours

  

   

white chocolate, sour cream, sea buckthorn jam, elderflower salt

  

so, the incredible reason I got in on a cancellation is because an american woman named ainsley made a reservation for 4 people in the hopes it would make her chances of getting a table higher. and it did, she got the table but at the last minute (when the restaurant needed table confirmation) two of her friends weren’t able to attend. not wanting to lose her booking, she called the restaurant and told them to fill it with people on the waiting list. then about 10 minutes later, I finally got through with my twenty calls and got myself a spot in this ‘makeshift’ shared table; alongside ainsley and her friend denise, and a solo american, brittany.  thank god for ainsley’s flaky mates!!

 

after an incredible 20 or so courses, we had a tour of the service kitchen, the outdoor fermentation area, the test kitchen, the outdoor grill kitchen, the production kitchen… pretty much everywhere we could visit, we did. At his part made it even more special, because you see how many different stages a dish has to get through to finally be served to guests. it’s not just some quick conjuring of ideas, thrown together and out they go. it’s months of testing, trialling, tasting. seeing that kind of dedication to serving food of such a high calibre makes it even more special. I mean, crazy things like 100 year old mahogany clam isn’t just something you see at your local decent restaurant, same with the black garlic thing – that was out of this world. a chewy garlic lolly. pure innovative genius this place, and a lot of it has to do with rene redzepi. you know you’re in copenhagen and eat at three different restaurants three days in a row and have three different types of cured/slow cooked egg yolk. this city is riddled with chefs who have worked with or under rene’s direction and have then gone off to open their own place or work elsewhere – subsequently spreading the endless knowledge they learned/practised at noma. 

even with the service/front of house staff, you can tell this place is the world best restaurant. this is their life. nothing is too much, but it wasn’t stuck up service, it was relaxed and normal. like katherine, our waitress from sydney, said, there’s no point serving from one side and clearing from another side if it feels awkward or interferes with how customers are sitting. if it makes more sense to lean a little over someone’s arm, then so be it. 

I mean, restarts often offer still or sparkling water to go with a meal – not noma. we drank birch tree water that was tapped from the forests on the outskirts of copenhagen that morning. as you do. it wasn’t overly powerful in taste, but was slightly sweeter and maybe a little thicker than regular water. see, that? that is why this place is the world’s best restaurant. the incredible attention to every, single, detail. no wonder my cheeks hurt from all the grinnin I did throughout the entire lunch!! 

 

and sometimes, dreams do come true! I can’t thank the waiter at studio for telling me his secret, I can’t thank ainsley’s friends enough for not being able to come, I can’t thank the staff at noma enough for their outstanding dedication to food and wine that allows just 45 people per lunch or dinner to enjoy such an exciting venture in food, and I can’t thank my parents enough for raising me to be a person who appreciates the good things in life. an experience like this – in my opinion – shits all over a new pair of shoes, doing post grad study or  buying an apartment. life is too short and you only live once! 

everybody’s been here at least once before

so, the most amazing thing happened when I sat down on my emirates flight from dubai to copenhagen.

I had chosen an isle seat down the back of the plane for this part of my trip. I can’t decide if sitting by the window and being undisturbed is more enticing than being up to get up easily and walk around without climbing over two other passengers who are probably angry and or half asleep. as it turns out, I was sitting next to a mother and her young son was seated next to the window. I said hi and told them if they need to get up, just wake me if I fall asleep. she emailed and responded with ‘tak’ – danish for thanks. I had my ipad it, ready to read some books, and my ear plugs, to drown out the inevitable engine noise that always interrupts a decent rest. 

just as I mad myself comfortable, and as other passengers were still boarding, a very danish looking man (tanned, blonde hair, very blue eyes) made a beeline straight for me, and when he reached me, asked if my name was miss johnson. um yes, I replied but my voice was so hoarse I had to clear my throat and repeat myself. damn being sick. he then says, “I don’t mean to interrupt you, howeve you are sitting by my family for this flight and I wonder if you would consider changing seats with me?” I told him of course I don’t mind, it was unfair he was separated from his family so I would definitely swap. then, he drops the bombshell and tells me it would be very worth my while as his seat is in business class. I think I squeaked as my jaw hit the floor. I may have said, are you serious, a few times, and then I asked if that was even allowed. he told me he’d already cleared it with the head of the cabin crew – that’s how he knew my name, he’d asked the name of the passenger sitting next to his family. insane, this shit never happens. he carried my bag for me up to the front of the plane, introduced me to the staff (I reckon he was either a seriously frequent flyer or maybe some sort of famous viking) and then showed me to my seat. I felt like a member of the bloody royal family being escorted through the aircraft until I landed in my ‘throne’ right at the front of the plane. never in my life have I been more pleased to at least have been dressed as though I semi-belonged to sit in that class. I had changed into jeans before I left kenya, thankfully I decided not to wear my crutch-as-low-as-the-floor african pants and a grotty tshirt that I only washed once. 

then came the giggles. I was giggling to myself like a little school girl; when they handed me a menu and a wine list, when they brought around drinks as I sat down, when I put the noise cancellation headphones on, when I made my seat recline into a bed and avoided getting a DVT, when I went to the toilet and dried my hands on an actual towel – not a paper towel, when it was time to eat and they set up my table with a tablecloth… basically the whole 8 and a bit hours I was chuckling and smiling to myself like a freak. 

so, as it turns out, I flew to copenhagen in business class, seat 1F on a boeing 777-300. like a fucking queen. I drank veuve cliquot champagne and red wine from bordeaux and ate food so tasty, you’d never imagine it came from a plane kitchenette.

what an incredible start to a very luxurious two weeks I have ahead. I think I’m permanently ruined for economy now.

you don’t need no baggage, just get on board

last weekend I developed a decent sore throat, and a pretty disgusting cough but I hate taking antibiotics so I avoided seeing a doctor for a few days. I knew I had some sort of infection, but it wasn’t until I couldn’t really breathe at night and had chest pain that it was probably time to get some treatment. so tuesday afternoon, I went to the clinic under the school and had a decent medical checkup. for 800ksh, about au$11, I found out I was hypotensive, didn’t have asthma, had an upper respiratory tract infection, had tonsillitis and was sent home with 5 days worth of amoxicillin, ibuprofen and cough syrup. despite this, I still have a very husky voice (no it’s not sexy) and I’m still snotty and have a cough, but thank god it’s much much better. 

  

my last few days at school were thankfully not sad ones, but very happy and cheerful ones. lots of laughter and smiles from me and the kids, as well as anna, morton, shelby, masika and braelyn who all came along for my last day. I had made each kid a little lolly bag to take home and enjoy over the easter weekend, and anna’s grandfather gave money so she could purchase an easter egg for each kid too. inevitably, the kids will be sugared out this weekend! however, it is very bloody hard to control 75 noisy and excited kids without a voice! despite this, we still sang songs, danced, and had a great day. 

   

beautiful evelyn. noone works as hard, as selflessly or as tirelessly as she does. a wonder woman, who I very much admire and respect

   

evelyn, agnetta (cook), me, ruth (teaching assistant), gladys (cleaner) and anna

 

I left school at about 3:30pm and had organised a taxi to pick me up at 5pm for my 10:50pm flight. I know that might seem crazy to some of you, but considering taxis are notoriously late and traffic is notoriously bad, I didn’t want to risk it. and I’m very bloody glad I did. taxi didn’t come until 5:30, then it started raining, which freaks kenyans out, and the traffic was horrible. it took almost 3 hours to drive from kawangware to the airport – a 24km journey. at one point, we sat still for almost 30minutes. to say I was freaking out would be an understatement. I’m not usually an anxious person, but when it comes to flying and being at airports, I’m practically obsessive compulsive. the earlier I’m there, the better. 

before I left, I was verrrry happy to have a final tusker beer, chips and kachumbari at my favourite place – volcano, with the beautiful humans who spent my last day at school with me. yes I was sad to leave, yet so happy because I know I’ll be back… again and again.

kwaheri for now, kenya. see you next year. x

  

 

I don’t have many and I don’t have much

thanks to so many of you wonderful humans, I fundraised quite a substantial amount of money for little ray of hope before I arrived here. I had an idea of how the money was going to be spent; new shoes, uniforms, stationary etc and that’s exactly how it’s been spent.

28 kids out of 75 desperately needed new shoes as theirs were falling apart, had holes or were inappropriate to walk to school in (think ballet slipper style shoe). there are a lot of nasty things on kenyan streets and roads, so covering up the kids feet as much as possible ensures their safety and less likely to step on something that could go straight through the shoe. so we had two men from the shoe company bata come to school and measure all the children’s shoe sizes and order accordingly as to who needed the shoes. for brand new leather and reinforced sole school shoes, it cost au$520, approximately $18 per pair of shoes. not bad considering how much parents at home spend on school shoes. 

 

   

   

similarly, many of the kids needed new sweaters because theirs are frayed, have holes or simply because they don’t fit anymore. it’s kind of important for every kid to have at least some form of sweater, particularly because kenyans, infact probably all africans, feel the cold, even when it’s not cold. it’s not uncommon for me to arrive at school on a lovely 28 degrees celcius day and see the kids wrapped up in at least 4 layers: tshirt, school dress/shirt, sweater and jacket. it astounds me that so many layers are needed. so I went to the biggest uniform supplier shop in yaya shopping centre and purchased 25 brand new navy sweaters in three different sizes, as a starting point. that cost about au$240, and infact if I find that more children need them, I will purchase more. 

  

stationary is always in need of a top up, and thanks to some wonderful people from home, I already had some colouring pencils and crayons to donate, but there’s always more to purchase, especially when buying for seventy five kids. chalk, modelling clay, grey lead pencils, sharpeners, erasers, masking tape, pens for teachers, learning posters for the walls… the list is often endless but it’s because everything gets used so often. and it is used right down the the very end. absolutely no wastage.

 

  

these photos can’t give justice to just how much new shoes, jumpers, stationary etc will assist the little rays of hope in school this year. and your continued support is amazing and will carry us through. even though so many of these kids are too young for school, their being here means they aren’t on the street trying to make an income. it means they get a head start at their schooling. it means they aren’t left at home to cook and clean while mum/dad/carer is out looking for work. it means that they get a chance to become whoever or whatever they want to be; that they aren’t just forced to merely survive. that they get the same chance you and I had when we grew up to choose what we wanted to be. that’s why I’m doing this.

anything that is not spent on this trip will be used to continue supporting the school: purchasing food for the kids throughout the year, school supplies, teachers upkeep and office items, as well as placed in savings for our ultimate goal of buying a block of land and building a school – somewhere where the kids than play and not be crowded. 

that’s a dream which will take some time, but we will continue working towards until it comes true. x

I see love when I close my eyes

a week here already? that’s insane. it never ceases to amaze me how fast time goes here, and yet sometimes the days are so slow. I’ve got right back into understanding and knowing the whole ‘africa time’ thing, I had to get used to that pretty fast. here, things will happen as they will; no point rushing or trying to fasten them up, everything is just pole pole… slowly slowly. 

anyway, this week has been busy and honestly, it’s been pretty tiring. I forgot how hard it is being on your a-game at school all the time, trying to control 75 kids and trying to speak the very little swahili I remember. 

breakfast of sweet bananas purchased from the carts on the side of the road. these are the world’s best bananas, I’m australian and ‘apparently’ we grow great bananas but they ain’t got shit on these kenyan bad boys. breakfast might also be peanut butter on toast, or a few cups of tea, or milo, or really good honey wheat puffs I got from the local market. 

I head off to school between 9:30/10am and it’s about a 5-10 minute walk (depends how many people shout out at me or try to walk with me or yell and tell me to go back to my country; if that happens, it might be shorter than 5 minutes)

 

the rooms on the first level on the left is where the school is

  

  

a poster I made last time

   

I walk into the compound, up the stairs, along the walk way and into the ‘apartment’ where the school is and greet evelyn, then walk into thunderous cheers by both the baby/nursery class and the pre-unit class… every single morning without fail I walk into a huge “yay!!” from them all. by the time I arrive, the kids have usually had their first lesson of the day and it’s time to do some marking. I sit across from evelyn at her ‘desk’ (table in the middle of the first room) and start marking. lessons could be joining the dots for letters “a b c” that we’d written in their bikes the day before to prepare for today, or it could be them copying patterns from the board, or writing numbers 1 to 20 in their books. this is no easy feat for the baby/nursery class as they’re as young as 2 years old in there, so poking someone in the arm with a grey lead pencil is more fun than learning how to hold it and write the number 8 – especially when you’re two years old. 

   

 

once the marking is done, it’s usually time for uji – the porridge made of millet, corn meal and sorghum flour, and occasionally the mix has rye flour and/or oats. it’s really thick in texture and sweetened with a lot of sugar! for 75 kids, we usually go through 50kg of sugar in one month!! The uji itself is sort of purple and sludgy, but it’s really good for the kids, really filling and quite nutritious. we say our prayers, and everybody takes their porridge. except for us teachers, we take chai (which when I was here last, did used to be tea but now we take boiled milk and hot chocolate powder) and mandazi (deep fried unsweetened dough).

   

biscuits as a treat!

   

next we do another lesson. it could be anything from making things from modelling clay or colouring in or singing songs, and then writing homework off the board into the homework books. this time is usually quite hectic as the kids now have a whole lot of energy from their uji, whereas sometimes of a morning they can be quite sluggish as many may not have had anything to eat since lunchtime yesterday at school. it’s hard work, particularly trying to keep 37 kids under the age of 5 in a 3m x 4m room settled and not jumping on tables too much.

  

lunchtime is great as everyone gets a bowl of something hot, filling and delcious for lunch. it could be ugali and sukuma wiki (boiled corn flour and cooked kale), rice and beans, rice and brown beans or githeri (corn and bean stew). this is something that I started when I was first here in 2013, when the school had been forgotten about, ignored and dumped by its american founder. many of the kids may only receive very little dinner at home – if anything at all – so it’s good being able to fill their bellies as best we can at school. we say our prayers again, and time to eat. this is usually the quietest moment of the whole day; except for yesterday being friday, they were all a little crazy. 

plates for everyone

  

ugali and sukuma wiki. in my opinion, the worst meal. proves I’ll never be a good kenyan

 

more songs or maybe some colouring after lunch and it’s already time to put put the homework books in their backpacks and get ready to head home. mums, dads or guardians come to the school to pick up their kids as its too dangerous for them to walk alone in certain places or too far to walk alone. the last job of the day is to administer any medications that certain kids need. it’s the school who takes the kids to the doctor if they fall ill, not the parents, so part of the monthly upkeep of the school is also to allow for doctor visits, prescriptions and medications.  

  

 

so many funny things happen in between all of this though. one of the little boys, franklin, cried on my first day as I was a different person and I wasn’t anna. but the next day, when I was teaching the kids to do thumbs up, he couldn’t stop smiling and doing thumbs up – so much so that our thumbs had to touch. whenever the kids have a problem, they always run up to Evelyn and say “teacher, teacher, ………..” and then explain the issue in swahili. I love it though when they run to me and try and tell me what the matter is, in swahili, and then look at me with their big beautiful eyes waiting for me to fix the issue, to respond in some way. to them I’m just the same as them, I’m another human so I must speak the language they speak. It’s the kids that make me love being here, not the adults. the pure innocence of children; they remind us that love is universal and that we are born to love and respect each other. 

unfortunately as everyone grows, attitudes change – particularly towards people of a different colour as I as reminded yesterday. it happened the last time I was here, and again yesterday. walking home from school with anna, shelby and her baby braelyn, some random guy shouted across the road that us ” mzungus should go back to our own countries”. sarcastic or not, that’s the behaviour that frustrates me to no end when I’m in kenya. mate trust me, I can see for myself that my skin colour is quite different to yours but can you imagine if we reciprocated that kind of behaviour at home? the court cases, the defamation, the slander and racism. it’s not tolerated there, and I most certainly wouldn’t shout out “black guy” to one of the many sudanese people we have in melbourne, so I don’t understand why shouting out mzungu is okay here. I hated it last time – for six months I hated it – and guess what? I’m back and I hate it just as much. the kids on the street who call out mzungu is acceptable because why? kids don’t know any better. but adults? no. I vividly remember as a kid if I saw someone who “looked different”, mum always told me and my sister not to stare but here, staring is all kenyans in what to do when someone ‘different’ walks past. 

though after this rant – and I can remember writing something like this last time I was here, I remember it like it was yesterday – I still wish I wasn’t leaving Kenya in less than a week.

 

and time is forever frozen still



most of you know how much little ray of hope means to me, and if you haven’t caught on, that’s why I’m back in kenya. walking to school on monday morning felt weird; just as everything has since I got here. it definitely doesn’t feel as though I left africa two years ago, went home, got a big girl job, worked for a while and then returned. it’s as if I literally went home for a smidge of time and now I’m back – but sadly not for the same six month duration. walking up the same road I walked for months and nothing changed. I don’t exaggerate when I say nothing. the same shops line the road, the same people sit in their shop fronts, the same adult idiots shout out mzungu (maybe different idiots but idiots nonetheless), the same smell of decomposing animals, burning plastic, dumped rubbish, typhoid infested water, animal and/or human shit, body odour and smoke. 



 





I know I was teary when I saw anna at the airport, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the waterworks that flowed from my eyes when I walked up the stairs of the apartment building the school is in and into the classroom – only to be met with a huge warm smile from evelyn. I sobbed. and I couldn’t really stop. the love I have for this place, this incredibly selfless and tireless woman, and the kids, is indescribable. 

the hard part after that was then saying hi to all the kids, only to have them see my reddened eyes and tears down my cheeks – the same worried look on their faces that so many had when I said goodbye in 2013. I tried my best to explain they were happy tears; but for children who are 3 years old or younger and don’t even speak swahili let alone english, my attempts at making myself feel less like an over emotional wreck were somewhat futile. they were beautiful though, the kids. in both classrooms, I walked in and received the most thunderous cheer and when I asked if those who knew me remembered my name, it was in unison: “victoria!” yep, there’s goes the waterworks again. I have a lot to thank my mother for. 



so many new faces to learn, so many little humans with their own stories. many of the kids I knew from last time are still here, just two years older and almost unrecognisable. some children were moved into the country with their family or with guardians as nairobi has become too dangerous and too expensive to survive in.  





one of my little angels who I fell head over heels for in 2013, christabel, was only 3 when she came to little ray of hope after her very young mother (only 14 years old) died whilst giving birth to her. she had such a beautiful little grin and loved skipping and colouring in. she isn’t at the school anymore, and I asked evelyn if she knows if christabel has moved into the countryside – like so many of the little ones I knew here. she told me that the lady who was caring for her was married and her husband didn’t care for christabel or that his wife was looking after her. so he banned her from the house and asked his wife to take her elsewhere. no one has seen her since; evelyn has heard that she could be in kibera (the biggest slum in nairobi and second biggest slum in the world) or in eldoret (a town very west of nairobi) but no one is sure. my heart broke hearing this. god only knows where this little angel is, if she is safe or even alive. I hate this place sometimes; it’s cruel heart-wrenching reality breaks the hardest of hearts.



christabel giving me a huge hug before I left in october 2013



 I also got to spend the whole day with beth, the little abandoned bub who evelyn has now adopted, and was named after my sister. man has she grown, and she is definitely wary of strangers. she cried this first time I dtried to hug her, and then as the day went on, she warmed to me and ended up running (yes she’s only 18 months old) into my arms. what a lucky little girl; I would hate to think what may have happened to her if evelyn hadn’t agreed to care for her. such a beautiful natured little munchkin.





it’s been an emotional three days at school, and I’ve barely scratched the surface. x