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

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

does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?

after what felt like a lifetime away from nairobi, I returned during the week only to arrive and it felt like I’d never left. it was like I’d come home, which is ironic considering only a couple of months ago I wrote about never thinking I’d find a place I could live in other than australia.

en route to kenya

was up ridiculously early to get the bus from arusha on wednesday morning, and slept for most of the 6ish hour journey. I thought it was a lot less than that the last time I did the bus but I always forget about the delays when you’re at the border and waiting for people to get their visas sorted. thankgod for the ‘east africa agreement’ though, as it turns out I didn’t need to get a new kenyan visa – something I thought was necessary because I only had a single entry visa, not a multiple entry – both in kenya and tanzania. winning! saved US$100 (but I still would have paid it if it meant I could go back to kenya…)

anna met me in the city and we got the bus home together, whilst it pissed down with rain. excellent, I didn’t bring any warmish clothes with me from tanzania (that said, I only have my denim jacket) so I was definitely saturated in my new hippy pants, cream singlet and scarf. gotta love wearing a black bra under a now see-through shirt as it rains… as if my white skin wasn’t enough reason for people to stare. spent a good hour on the bus home from the city, then straight to ‘volcanoes’ for coke, chips and kachumbari (the best tomato, onion, coriander and green chilli salsa in the world). I was so hungry so I ordered two plates of chips and two serves of kachumbari and nearly finished all of it, until I was about to burst. god I missed this.

quickly bought a few necessities at the local supermarket (aka the things that are supplied in tanzania but not in kenya: toilet paper, water, tea bags and milk… a girl can’t live without her tea) and then home to say hi to my beloved sisters, makena and vicky, our housekeeper jane and my host mum, regina. it was so good to see them again, makena’s face was priceless as I walked in the door. coming from tanzania where I hadn’t had water or electricity for 4 days, I did my washing which was about 3 weeks overdue and had the worlds best shower. never would I have thought I would miss the shower I hated so much when it gives you electric shocks and doesn’t have a drainage hole except for a cracked tile in the corner. heaven. I also managed to score not only my old room but also my old bed, and felt utterly content as I went to sleep that night. probably the first time I’ve felt as comfortable as I would at home in a long while.

the next morning, I was off to ‘little ray of hope’ to surprise the kids. I’d told evelyn I was coming, but she told me she’d keep it a surprise from the kids. and man, were they surprised. I was welcomed with the usual cheers and screams, but then a few of the girls came up to me and said “why did you cry?” in reference to the day I left them and I was a blubbering mess. then one girl, ivy, said “will you cry again?” to which I told her, “I hope not!”. I didn’t stay too long on thursday as the kids were still finalising their examinations, including reading and writing, and I didn’t want to be too much of a distraction. thursday night we went out for dinner with a few other people staying at regina’s who I had met before I left, as it was ashley’s 26th birthday, we had a bloody awesome meal at habesha ethiopian restaurant… why kenyan food doesn’t taste as good as ethiopian kills me. it’s got so much flavour, I need to start researching the best ethiopian restaurants for when I get home to melbourne.

friday I was back at school to spend it with the kids, turns out it was their very last day of school for the year! couldn’t have timed my visit better. we had such a great time, singing the songs I’d taught them (without my ukulele as I left that in tanzania), drawing pictures, counting in english and saying colours in english. the greatest surprise was that the clinic downstairs purchased some food for the kids as it was their last day, so we had sodas (orange, yellow and purple fanta), popcorn, biscuits, caramel lollies, mandazi AND balloons to string up. it was so much fun and such a beautifully happy day, except for trying to tell the kids to ‘kula pole pole’ (eat slowly) because their little tummies are so not used to eating that much food, or that much sugary and salty food. but their grins were absolutely priceless, especially as I sat with them on the floor to eat (they love that); they were so happy and it was such a wonderful treat for their last day of school. I spoke to evelyn who thinks there should be 3 or 4 kids who are should be ready for formal school next year, so they will be our priority for child sponsorship.

meeting little beth

I also got to meet the beautiful little girl that was named after my sister, beth. if you didn’t read about her, you can read her story here. she’s had a rougher start to life than most people on this earth but now has so much love in her life, including two older sisters in australia. my heart was breaking when I held her, thinking how could somebody abandon such a beautiful little girl. I understand that circumstances here are difficult, but for fucks sake, if you don’t want to have a child, use a bloody condom. it’s not that difficult. beth is one of the lucky ones, at least she has been adopted by someone who will love and care for her.

evelyn told me the awful story of a little girl who lived close to her, who just learned to walk and wandered away from her home where she was lived with her mother and at least 10 other children, most to different fathers. after an unknown amount of time, the girl was found face down in a ditch by the side of the road, having drowned in the filthy water and sewerage that gathers there. people who found her tried to save her, but it was too late. why don’t stories like this make it to worldwide news? why isn’t this causing the same uproar as the bloody stupid names kanye or beyoncé called their kids? this is a true headline.

bernard’s report card

this is the report card for one of the kids who has been sponsored to go to formal school. bernard is 12 years old, was a street kid after his mother died from HIV, is HIV+ and has cancer (kaposi sarcoma). this year, he worked really hard and has scored 453/500 for his overall year marks. the teachers remarks of ‘let the sky be your limit’ almost made me cry. bernard lives with evelyn, who is unbelievably proud of him. she constantly reminds him, as well as all the older children who have sponsors and are at formal school (part of the older ‘ray of hope’ group; ‘little ray of hope’ refers to the younger children who only started at the school in may of this year), to “work hard, always, because there is someone overseas who is denying themselves to extend money to you as a total stranger so you may study and have a wonderful opportunity”. these kids all deserve to dream as big as we do. this little guy, bernard, is a legend. he is so determined to work hard as he wants to be an artist when he grows up – and he’s talented enough, believe you me.

sometimes we all need a reminder that there is always someone worse off than you.

returning to kenya was good. good for my soul, good for my frame of mind. before I left, I was so sick of this place, then I got to arusha and couldn’t wait to get back to kenya – so it was great to see the country in a different light, as a country I love and look forward to visiting again and again.

somewhere deep inside, something’s got a hold on you

the day finally arrived! my very own medical camp, made possible through the generous donations of all of you and the amazing anna.

the days leading up to saturday saw us getting more and more excited; anna spent a good couple of hours sticky-taping a toothpaste box to the back of a toothbrush (all 200 of them), last minute phone calls from marcus telling me about the shit he had to deal with from certain organisations (this country can be so exhausting), heading into the city centre in heavy traffic to buy stethoscopes and BP cuffs to use on the day and then to give as donations for the future medical camps… it was as exciting as it was stressful. but it was so goddamn worth it.

rubiri primary school grounds

I hardly slept on friday night – partially due to the fact we had a few beers with some other volunteers at our local bar & may have been a bit inebriated – but also because I was so excited. something we had been planning for a while was finally happening and was now coming to life.

a very early morning saw me up at 6am (although I was awake well before then) and getting a matatu with anna and her friend nikki, who helped out, to meet the other volunteers (ashley, richard and sarah) at the local shopping centre just before 7am so we could get going, naivasha is about 2hrs from nairobi in good traffic. we arrived just after 9am, and the best part was seeing patients already waiting when we arrived. I was actually a little worried, partially due to the fact that the camp was being held in a really rural location – rubiri primary school, on the outskirts of naivasha – and for patients to get there, they would have either had to get a piki piki (motorbike) which would cost money that not many people have, or to walk for quite a few hours. so seeing people there made me grin like an absolute loser.

patients already waiting to be seen

the biggest thing I’ve learnt about medical camps is that it’s not about the number of people who come. you don’t want to have huge huge numbers of people who come because you’d be so pressed for time and resources, they wouldn’t get the care and treatment they deserve. it’s about the quality of the care they receive, that each patient is listened to and treated accordingly.

a slightly negative part of the lead up to the camp was the crap marcus had to deal with from certain groups of people – apparently there was some shit storm about the people who we had organised to do the HIV testing, apparently the certificates held by the ‘testers’ were different to what is normally accepted and the testers would have to be met to assess their ability; ridiculous, considering these people are qualified and would have been doing what they do for quite some time. it sounded like they weren’t happy about us having HIV testing available at the camp… and this only came to light a couple of days before saturday. we couldn’t take away the HIV testing only a few days before; it had been advertised in the flyers we had printed and via the community health workers who had a loud speaker and we going through the surrounding villages and towns telling people to come on saturday. there’s a massive importance on the role of trust; patients have to feel as though they can trust whoever is treating them, otherwise they would never come back to another camp. if we took away something we had promised would be at the camp, would these patients trust anything we said again? simply put, no. there was a lot riding on this camp too as KCC are hoping to build a primary school just next to rubiri primary school. this was to be the chance that the people in the area would get to know KCC and what they’re all about, and they would trust that we’re delivering what we say we will deliver. and seeing the amazing work that KCC has done in their early development schools, for them to have their own primary school would be amazing; hence this camp being a big deal.

a classic example of the political bullshit we have to deal with here in kenya. it’s so hard to do something good for others when you’re jumping through hoops trying to make everyone happy.

the camp started at about 10:30am, a little bit behind schedule but there was lots to be done once we arrived. even though marcus, anna (a different one) and steinar, plus a few others, were already there and had clearly been getting things organised, we had to sweep the floors of the classrooms we’d be working in, figure out what classrooms would be used for cervical cancer screening and HIV testing and black out the windows for privacy, set up the registration area (and later a tent to protect flavia and anna (the norwegian one) from the blazing sun), set up the pharmacy with all the medications we had in stock, organise desks into makeshift tables for doctor/patient conversations etc etc. lots to do, but lots of hands make light work. and man, did we have a lot of hands!

getting organised!

after the debacle of gaining a medical licence for the day (the kenyan government got incredibly strict about ensuring only qualified medical professionals work in a volunteer capacity, enforcing that volunteers need to ‘purchase’ a licence in order to work here. it is a really important thing that has happened though, which I’m glad to have been to first one to get it organised so future medical volunteers can easily get it sorted.) mine cost $100 which covers me for a month, even though I only needed it to work one day – and even then it wasn’t like I was doing anything that would put anyone’s lives in any danger, all I was just gonna do was work in triage – taking patients vital signs… that’s hardly cause for concern. bloody political drama, but that’s a story to be told another day with a few beers.

triage, hectic as per usual

little leo had his first ever checkup

patients receiving their uji/porridge

the day flowed really well; richard, ashley and nikki helped with the public education forums and did a fantastic job. we had oral hygiene, hand washing, germs and reproductive health (a lady from kenya red cross did that talk) and every child got a toothbrush and toothpaste, then we had enough for almost all of the adults.

the tooth brushing talk

the hand washing talk

handing out toothbrushes and toothpastes

anna practising hand washing with some kids

statistics wise, we had 229 patients who registered: 50 women had cervical cancer screening, 50 patients volunteered to be tested – 31 of which had never been tested before… that is an incredible result. to have 31 people now know their status when before they had no idea is fantastic! there was also a room for family planning, we also had immunisations should any kids need them but only one had a measles injection – didn’t have any other kids needing any. but at least we were prepared.

eating lunch while we work

cleaning the uji cups

sah hipster

we saw our last patient at about 3:30pm, although I’m sure a couple of extras came later on. the long task of packing up everything, including medications that we’re left over (counting them as well), putting the desks back into the classrooms, taking down the blackout shades, cleaning all the dishes from the day. by the time we had our debrief, it was time to head home. anna and I were going to go to a festival that night but decided against it a few days prior, as I was leaving so soon and wanted to spend as much time with my host family as possible. turns out we were so exhausted we probably would’ve collapsed the second we had a beer and listening to some music! it always surprises me how tired I am after medical camps; this was my fourth one in four months, and each time I feel like I come home and pass out. whether it’s just the long day in general, or having to use the ‘medical knowledge’ part of my brain – which I’m not really using here – I always sleep like a log that night!

we were definitely delirious by this stage

honestly this camp couldn’t have been done without the huge support and organisation of marcus, of the KCC slum project. the fact that he can organise a medical camp amongst all of the other work he does at KCC is amazing, and hugely appreciated. also a big thanks to the volunteers from NVS, staff from kijabe mission hospital, district ministry of health, NHIF, kenya red cross, the public health office, area administration and of course, where we held the camp, rubiri primary school.

and of course, you guys. all of you who donated to my “taking healthcare to kenya” fund, this happened thanks to you. what I’ve done in kenya over the past 4 months hasn’t been as medical as what I thought it would be, and you’ve all been so supportive of ‘little ray of hope’, where I’ve spent the majority of my time, and some of the donation money. but I was over the moon to do something medical – your donations went towards the meeting that was held a month ago with all of the above mentioned organisations, buying medications for the patients, ensuring we had an allowance for the staff members who worked during the day (only kenyans received this), printing flyers to give to the kids at rubiri primary school to give to their family and neighbours, purchasing enough toothbrushes and toothpaste for almost every patient, buying the HIV test kits, mobilising community health workers in the days prior with loud speakers to get the word out, purchasing my medical licence so I could actually work during the day, ensuring we had food for the patients during the day, transport of goods and volunteers, providing lunch for the staff who worked during the day… there are so many more things but I honestly can’t think of them now (when the report of the day is written, then I can let you know!)

the a-team

thank you, thank you, thank you. I can’t say it enough.

there must be sunshine beyond that rain

finally finished all of the children’s profiles this morning, here’s a sneak peak at one…

christabelle, a beautiful three year old girl whose mother was 14 when she gave birth and passed away. she loves colouring and skipping rope. when she grows up, she just wants to be smiling.

have a look at little ray of hope school under ‘our children’ to see all of the profiles on our kids. it’s so hard reading some of their stories, but these kids are so resilient and each one deserves the whole world.

and I keep dancing on my own

as my time in kenya is coming to a close, I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened in the past four months.

and I have to say, for living in the same country since june 30, it’s been pretty bloody eventful. started with working at a family planning clinic but that didn’t work out as planned, had my wallet stolen, the nairobi airport burnt down, did a two day outreach to the garbage slum and two IDP (internally displaced persons) camps, rode a bike down through hells gate and saw the real life ‘pride rock’, moved to working out of a clinic where we’d go testing people for HIV in the surrounding slums, went on safari, was shown a school for HIV infected and affected kids, kept working at said school, recognised how much help this school needed to get back on their feet, created a new website for them and starting child sponsorship opportunities for these kids, experienced a terrorist attack 15 minutes up the road and was scared to leave the house for a couple of days, have become incredibly close to my youngest host sister vicky, dealt with a toilet that doesn’t flush properly and a shower that electric shocks you every single time you touch the tap, worked at three medical camps (four as of this coming saturday) and given checkups to as well as treated over 1000 patients on those three separate days, went on a day trip to the equator and hiked down a waterfall and up an old volcano, become very used to being home before dark and/or strapping on a pair if I’m out and about when it’s getting dark, copped many wedding proposals and even been asked to be a mans second wife (don’t know if that’s a compliment or not), got used to people staring at you when you walk down the street, met some really insane and some really amazing people, had three people shot and killed outside of our compound one night a couple of weeks ago, been referred to as my host mums eldest daughter, had my heart broken numerous times since being here but worst of all when a four year old girl at ‘little ray of hope’ received a positive HIV test result, was knocked off a motorbike when hit by a car, had my phone stolen, laughed about a gang of kenyans failing miserably to distract me and steal things from my bag in a matatu etc etc etc.

the biggest lesson I’ve learnt here is that things don’t always turn out the way you expect. and you know what? that’s not a bad thing. particularly as a volunteer, you have to be open to work where you’re needed, and that’s most likely to be not where you expected. if you come to a country like kenya and try and impose changes you thought of at home before assessing the need when you get to the country, you won’t get very far. things happen so differently here. if I really had’ve kicked up a stink when I first got to kenya about my first placement being shit, it’s highly likely I wouldn’t be where I am now, wouldn’t have met the people I have, wouldn’t be working where I am, wouldn’t have helped the people I have. and who cares that I came to kenya thinking I’d do a shit ton of medical work and the fact that it didn’t happen that way. turns out my medical skills haven’t been needed as much as general willingness to help out wherever I can. that the last month or so have knocked me for six and really tested my technology skills making the website for little ray of hope is so not what I thought I’d do. that I’ve become a somewhat ‘spokesperson’ for these kids to any visitors who come along is so not what I thought I’d do. that a bunch of kids can make my heart burst with absolute love and adoration, it must be the feeling parents have.

I almost wish I wasn’t going moving countries now, as much as I’m looking forward to a change in scenery, it would be great to stay here to see out the year for these kids. but there might be something similar waiting for me in arusha, tanzania. who knows.

so if any of you guys who read my blog want to volunteer – wherever it may be in the world – to make a real difference you have to be prepared to do anything and everything. I haven’t changed the world, but I have helped start to change the lives of 53 beautiful kids who deserve the entire world, and then some.

and we’ll keep on fighting to the end

this past weekend has been one of fear, disbelief, horror and shock. by no means are attacks on innocent people a new thing, you could probably even go to the extent of saying that we’re not as shocked by them anymore – at least not like the world was with 9/11. I admit I’ve even felt less shocked by them as the years have gone on, they’ve become such a regular occurrence. another suicide bombing in the middle east, another IED explosion, another terrorist threat, another mass shooting in the US… often with another group of faces whose lives have been tragically cut short on the front of a newspaper, only to be thrown in the recycle bin or used as a fire starter later on.

for me, this weekend changed all of that. it’s the first time I think I’ve actually felt real fear. I’m sure you’ve seen the news (and I’ve spoken to my family more than enough times to know that it has been in the australian news, more than once). I’m currently living in the city where the attack on the westgate mall happened, it’s not too far from where I live. where a group of extremists from a neighbouring country followed through on one of the many threats they’ve shown to kenya over the past few years. the al-shabaab group, an extremist group who are believed to be a branch of al-quaeda, have claimed responsibility for the attack, explaining their actions are justified due to the kenyan defence force invading somalia at the end of 2011. I don’t know the whole story but I was reading the organisations live tweets on saturday night (published under the name ‘HSM press office’) justifying why they’re doing what they’re doing. it was horrible. that there are humans on this earth capable of such acts, for ‘retribution’. they have claimed that they’re doing this for allah, that they will be given eternal paradise for their work. why is it that the rest of the world’s muslim community seem to live in peace and in harmony? that we don’t see every single muslim out there strapping bombs to their chest or carrying ak-47s into shopping centres and gunning down men, women and worst of all, children? this isn’t justifiable by your god, my god or anyone’s god. the brainwashing in this organisation is clearly evident, don’t try and twist religion to make your beliefs sound credible.

it’s now the fourth day since the shopping centre was first placed under siege, and it still feels a bit surreal. as though, it’s not really happening, that it’s not really just down the road – even though I know of people whose friends or family members have been shot. it doesn’t really get much ‘more real’ than that. yesterday we woke up and from 7:30am saw that it was still going on, we hardly left the tv room all day. whether it was disbelief or fear, or maybe both, but I certainly didn’t feel like leaving the compound I live in – knowing full well that westerners are the ones being targeted. I’ve always been a firm believer that you can’t live your life in fear – I mean, you can walk out of your house and be hit by a bus. but I still feel like something a lot bigger is going to happen, why else has this been dragged out over four days? maybe I’m being over-dramatic, but when something like this happens just ‘up the road’, you probably would too.

this event has been called “kenya’s 9/11”, and it’s no surprise why. a terrorist group attempting to make a name for themselves and using the lives of innocent people in the process to do so. last night infact, we were watching the al jazeera network where the newsreader was interviewing the commander of the al-shabaab group. he, in not so many words, admitted that they were encouraged, even mentored, by al-qaeda to do this. al-qaeda, really? no wonder I don’t feel safe.

these pricks deserve to rot.

kenya, like australia, is incredibly resilient. I’ve already seen that in the three months I’ve been here. the people here are strong, they fight for what they believe in and most of all, they’re generally pretty peaceful people. my hope is that this isn’t the first of many attacks, that this is it. those responsible are brought to justice, and that kenya is left alone. I am a wishful thinker, I like to be positive; so I hope this is all that there is. I still have a month left here, and I’m not leaving yet.

praying that kenya remains strong, that those lost in this awful tragedy may be at peace, that those who lost loved ones may find comfort that justice will be found, that we can all go back to feeling safe.