Now that it's been a few days since returning from Kenya and jet lag is fading, I ask myself what difference my first trip to a third-world country has made in me, and what difference I can make in that faraway land. What have I learned from my time with two legs and four legs?
Africa is a land of contrast: the exquisite beauty of nature in its wildest form, and the ugliness of poverty without expectation of relief. The smiles of the children belie their lack of what we consider to be life's essentials and demonstrate their gratitude for the little they do have.
It's unbelievable that, for every $20 donated monthly ($2 per child) through www.kenyakidscan.org, 10 children will have daily lunches and be more likely to be present and attentive each school day. In the separate computer training program, $40 pays a computer teacher's weekly salary to provide an hour's training for each student at one school...and for between $15,000 and $20,000, another school gets a computer center.
We can't do it all, but we can do something. While Tammy and I have been giving a consistent monthly amount, we will be increasing giving as a percentage of our income and will be encouraging others to join us. Children's lives are being changed, and we want to be part of it.
Oh, and all the wild animals are very cool, too!
Saturday, 29 June 2013
Tuesday, 25 June 2013
We Held Him at Knifepoint until the Police Arrived
Texas schools have become a little funny about bringing weapons to school, and probably considerably more so in urban districts. I remember my brother's taking a knife to school one day 'way back in the '70s, because he feared being attacked by an ethnic gang, and I warned him the consequences of getting caught. Fortunately, he was neither attacked nor exposed as having a weapon.
In Fort Worth ISD, carrying a weapon, even a gun-shaped object, is an automatic suspension, regardless whether kindergartener or senior. I remember being fingerprinted by security as part of my being approved for teacher employment. I took out my small pocket knife to ask whether it would be allowed on campus. The security officer pulled out his own pocket knife and said, "It looks like mine. Just don't be cleaning your nails in front of the students." We have noted the absence of students who ignored or forgot the weapon rule.
Apparently, this is not the case at Rift Valley Academy. One of Tammy's favorite photos is at RVA's weekly flag-raising ceremony, during which a student was using his hunting knife to peel fruit, giving some to a friend. No one indicated anything unusual.
This was confirmed during our evening at the Peifers' home with some sophomore students. You may recall from previous blogs that RVA is surrounded by tall fencing topped by barbed and razor wire. One night, a burglar somehow crossed the fence and entered one of the boys' dorms. A small group of students opened the door to a room and found the person going through their belongings. They commented very simply, "A student had a knife in his desk. We held the burglar at knifepoint until the police arrived." No surprise, no loss of property, no consequence to the students; suspect apprehended.
Try that at school in Fort Worth.
In Fort Worth ISD, carrying a weapon, even a gun-shaped object, is an automatic suspension, regardless whether kindergartener or senior. I remember being fingerprinted by security as part of my being approved for teacher employment. I took out my small pocket knife to ask whether it would be allowed on campus. The security officer pulled out his own pocket knife and said, "It looks like mine. Just don't be cleaning your nails in front of the students." We have noted the absence of students who ignored or forgot the weapon rule.
Apparently, this is not the case at Rift Valley Academy. One of Tammy's favorite photos is at RVA's weekly flag-raising ceremony, during which a student was using his hunting knife to peel fruit, giving some to a friend. No one indicated anything unusual.
This was confirmed during our evening at the Peifers' home with some sophomore students. You may recall from previous blogs that RVA is surrounded by tall fencing topped by barbed and razor wire. One night, a burglar somehow crossed the fence and entered one of the boys' dorms. A small group of students opened the door to a room and found the person going through their belongings. They commented very simply, "A student had a knife in his desk. We held the burglar at knifepoint until the police arrived." No surprise, no loss of property, no consequence to the students; suspect apprehended.
Try that at school in Fort Worth.
Sunday, 23 June 2013
May I Have This Harem, Please?
The road less traveled
A tent, sort of
Dinner, "Out of Africa" style
Family squabbles
Lions, leopard, and stuck, oh, my!
It's mostly downhill and all dirt, as one leaves Kijabe in any direction. With recent rains, the rocks and ruts were especially exposed and accentuated, as we came down the mountain on the way to a paved road. The early part of the trip was very slow and very rough, but the scenery was beautiful. The previous Monday, we arrived in Kijabe to find fog and rain. By Saturday, the day was wonderfully clear, and the descent into Rift Valley brought grateful smiles to our faces.
The next two hours were on a modern asphalt highway ("tarmac," they call it). Rather than "Reduced Speed Ahead" signs as we approached small villages along the way, there were speed humps: some smaller, some larger, but all effective in reducing our already relatively slow (80 kph/50 mph) cruising speed. No traffic lights (no electricity) nor warning signs exist for the people randomly crossing the road, so the speed humps have to get the job done.
After some time, the tarmac gave way to an improved gravel road; then, a stretch less so; then, better road...when suddenly, our driver turned onto a dirt trail, leaving road improvements behind. "This is a shortcut," he said. I don't know whether it was actually shorter in time taken, because this was slow, sometimes four-wheel drive territory. I had no idea how he remembered all the turns (three months since his last visit), but he took us right to the gate of Fig Tree Camp.
Peter, our driver, commented that most of the camps in the Mara were established by Indians who had come to Kenya, leased land, and built these resort destinations. The landscaping is beautiful: bougainvillea mixed in arches over the paved lighted pathways. An added attraction was free-roaming monkeys and baboons walking along from time to time.
We stayed in a tent, sort of. There was a standard tiled bathroom with running water, flush toilet, sink, and a closet, but you had to walk through your tent bedroom to get there. The tent had screen windows with roll-up flaps and a center opening that zipped but didn't lock. Inside were twin and full canopy beds with mosquito netting, a night stand and area rug, and electric lamps. A mix of old and new, it had the appearance of camping out without really having to do so. The bed was reasonably comfortable, and hot water was available several hours morning and night. Electricity was turned off for a few hours daily to conserve or service the generator, which was the only power source. Nothing really separated ,you from neighbor noise, but we slept pretty well. I don't know that I'd choose it for a honeymoon.
We watched the Redford/Streep movie, "Out of Africa," again right before the trip, and besides the breathtaking scenery, our meals resembled it, or a cruise, more than a little. You sat at the same table with the same wait staff for every meal, and the desserts were a little too exotic to please traditional southern American tastes (No chocolate cake or pie; nothing coconut or banana or pecan?)
The wait staff were ultra-courteous, and then there were these Nehru jackets (Indian ownership...). They were accustomed only to have tea or coffee after dinner; iced tea was never mentioned. And the reminder from the bathroom: "It is not recommended to drink the tap water." The food was still decent, though, and the safari drives brought you back pretty hungry.
I really didn't know animals kept harems, but they certainly did here in the Mara ("spotted plain"). Impalas (no, not your typical Chevy) had a patriarchal structure in which one male controlled all the females and sired all the young. As the young males matured, they walked in a separate herd alongside the chief male and "harem," but at a safe distance. When one of the other males challenged and defeated the chief, the victor assumed the role of chief and took over the females. One male might have charge of fifty females and their young.
Lions had a more violent system. When another male defeated the head lion, he subsequently killed all the cubs sired by the previous chief, and began replacing them with his own. The females did the hunting, but Dad got to eat first.
Elephants were matriarchal. We saw a group consisting of the head female out front, a group of males and females of various ages in the middle, and the oldest male at the back. Our guide indicated that the lead female must have been about to go into heat, because in a few minutes the old male was chasing her with an obvious sixth appendage (counting the trunk) about the size of my leg, apparently with fatherhood in mind.
The female was faster, perhaps due in part to the fact that she was younger than he, and perhaps also because, in his current condition, he was trying to run while dodging thorn bushes. Regardless, he eventually slowed and gave up, and she was safe from motherhood one more day.
We had plenty of excitement that first safari drive, having seen three of the "big five" (lions, elephants, and Cape Buffalo, with only rhinos and leopards remaining). As we continued, our driver separated from the others and took us to a river bank. There, climbing up the other embankment, was a leopard, seeming to ignore us. We watched quietly as he disappeared among the bushes and reappeared at the top of the ridge, walking out of sight. On our first day, already four of the "big five!"
Then, our guide became bold, maybe in an Evel Knievel way. He decided that we could cross where the leopard and some other vehicles had crossed, and down the embankment we went. And we would have made it, had we been in a Land Cruiser instead of a fortified minivan. Of all the things the customized van was given, extra ground clearance was not among them. Halfway up the other bank, we high-centered on the dirt trail and became seriously stuck: no forward, no back, and a leopard recently seen walking right where we sat.
Leopards are among the most aggressive predators, very strong and willing to attack almost anything edible or perceived as threatening. Their "M.O." is to kill prey and carry it up into a tree for dinner. In other words, if you try to escape a leopard by climbing a tree, you've just saved him a step. Peter indicated that the leopard would not kill us for food, but he would attack to protect what he considered his territory.
Having seen a leopard attack an overly-curious tourist on another tour, he was afraid to get out to try to dislodge the van, and the two-way radio wasn't working. He was on his cell phone, calling for help, but he couldn't relay our position very well because we were down in a ravine, and people couldn't see us from the road.
Within an hour, as dark was approaching, the second vehicle we heard was close enough that our driver risked leaving the van to flag it down. A gentleman from our camp arrived. Tammy and I stepped out of the van to help him lift and push, and the van broke free. We all got out of the way as Peter launched the van up the embankment and back onto the road. We got back in and headed to camp, little the worse for wear but definitely wide awake.
We were very grateful the leopard trusted us to take care of ourselves rather than returning to take care of us himself.
A tent, sort of
Dinner, "Out of Africa" style
Family squabbles
Lions, leopard, and stuck, oh, my!
It's mostly downhill and all dirt, as one leaves Kijabe in any direction. With recent rains, the rocks and ruts were especially exposed and accentuated, as we came down the mountain on the way to a paved road. The early part of the trip was very slow and very rough, but the scenery was beautiful. The previous Monday, we arrived in Kijabe to find fog and rain. By Saturday, the day was wonderfully clear, and the descent into Rift Valley brought grateful smiles to our faces.
The next two hours were on a modern asphalt highway ("tarmac," they call it). Rather than "Reduced Speed Ahead" signs as we approached small villages along the way, there were speed humps: some smaller, some larger, but all effective in reducing our already relatively slow (80 kph/50 mph) cruising speed. No traffic lights (no electricity) nor warning signs exist for the people randomly crossing the road, so the speed humps have to get the job done.
After some time, the tarmac gave way to an improved gravel road; then, a stretch less so; then, better road...when suddenly, our driver turned onto a dirt trail, leaving road improvements behind. "This is a shortcut," he said. I don't know whether it was actually shorter in time taken, because this was slow, sometimes four-wheel drive territory. I had no idea how he remembered all the turns (three months since his last visit), but he took us right to the gate of Fig Tree Camp.
Peter, our driver, commented that most of the camps in the Mara were established by Indians who had come to Kenya, leased land, and built these resort destinations. The landscaping is beautiful: bougainvillea mixed in arches over the paved lighted pathways. An added attraction was free-roaming monkeys and baboons walking along from time to time.
We stayed in a tent, sort of. There was a standard tiled bathroom with running water, flush toilet, sink, and a closet, but you had to walk through your tent bedroom to get there. The tent had screen windows with roll-up flaps and a center opening that zipped but didn't lock. Inside were twin and full canopy beds with mosquito netting, a night stand and area rug, and electric lamps. A mix of old and new, it had the appearance of camping out without really having to do so. The bed was reasonably comfortable, and hot water was available several hours morning and night. Electricity was turned off for a few hours daily to conserve or service the generator, which was the only power source. Nothing really separated ,you from neighbor noise, but we slept pretty well. I don't know that I'd choose it for a honeymoon.
We watched the Redford/Streep movie, "Out of Africa," again right before the trip, and besides the breathtaking scenery, our meals resembled it, or a cruise, more than a little. You sat at the same table with the same wait staff for every meal, and the desserts were a little too exotic to please traditional southern American tastes (No chocolate cake or pie; nothing coconut or banana or pecan?)
The wait staff were ultra-courteous, and then there were these Nehru jackets (Indian ownership...). They were accustomed only to have tea or coffee after dinner; iced tea was never mentioned. And the reminder from the bathroom: "It is not recommended to drink the tap water." The food was still decent, though, and the safari drives brought you back pretty hungry.
I really didn't know animals kept harems, but they certainly did here in the Mara ("spotted plain"). Impalas (no, not your typical Chevy) had a patriarchal structure in which one male controlled all the females and sired all the young. As the young males matured, they walked in a separate herd alongside the chief male and "harem," but at a safe distance. When one of the other males challenged and defeated the chief, the victor assumed the role of chief and took over the females. One male might have charge of fifty females and their young.
Lions had a more violent system. When another male defeated the head lion, he subsequently killed all the cubs sired by the previous chief, and began replacing them with his own. The females did the hunting, but Dad got to eat first.
Elephants were matriarchal. We saw a group consisting of the head female out front, a group of males and females of various ages in the middle, and the oldest male at the back. Our guide indicated that the lead female must have been about to go into heat, because in a few minutes the old male was chasing her with an obvious sixth appendage (counting the trunk) about the size of my leg, apparently with fatherhood in mind.
The female was faster, perhaps due in part to the fact that she was younger than he, and perhaps also because, in his current condition, he was trying to run while dodging thorn bushes. Regardless, he eventually slowed and gave up, and she was safe from motherhood one more day.
We had plenty of excitement that first safari drive, having seen three of the "big five" (lions, elephants, and Cape Buffalo, with only rhinos and leopards remaining). As we continued, our driver separated from the others and took us to a river bank. There, climbing up the other embankment, was a leopard, seeming to ignore us. We watched quietly as he disappeared among the bushes and reappeared at the top of the ridge, walking out of sight. On our first day, already four of the "big five!"
Then, our guide became bold, maybe in an Evel Knievel way. He decided that we could cross where the leopard and some other vehicles had crossed, and down the embankment we went. And we would have made it, had we been in a Land Cruiser instead of a fortified minivan. Of all the things the customized van was given, extra ground clearance was not among them. Halfway up the other bank, we high-centered on the dirt trail and became seriously stuck: no forward, no back, and a leopard recently seen walking right where we sat.
Leopards are among the most aggressive predators, very strong and willing to attack almost anything edible or perceived as threatening. Their "M.O." is to kill prey and carry it up into a tree for dinner. In other words, if you try to escape a leopard by climbing a tree, you've just saved him a step. Peter indicated that the leopard would not kill us for food, but he would attack to protect what he considered his territory.
Having seen a leopard attack an overly-curious tourist on another tour, he was afraid to get out to try to dislodge the van, and the two-way radio wasn't working. He was on his cell phone, calling for help, but he couldn't relay our position very well because we were down in a ravine, and people couldn't see us from the road.
Within an hour, as dark was approaching, the second vehicle we heard was close enough that our driver risked leaving the van to flag it down. A gentleman from our camp arrived. Tammy and I stepped out of the van to help him lift and push, and the van broke free. We all got out of the way as Peter launched the van up the embankment and back onto the road. We got back in and headed to camp, little the worse for wear but definitely wide awake.
We were very grateful the leopard trusted us to take care of ourselves rather than returning to take care of us himself.
Who's Going to Harvard?
*107 years and Teddy, too
*It's not cheap to be a missionary.
*I can see the monkey on the razor wire from here.
*Excellent education, caring culture
In 1906, missionary families in Africa who were concerned that the only quality education for their children meant sending them to England or to the
U. S. found some available land outside Nairobi and founded Rift Valley Academy (RVA), now under the auspices of AIM (Africa Inland Mission). RVA is a boarding school with classes for "Titchies"(grades K-6) and secondary (grades 7-12). Approximately 500 students attend whose families serve more than 70 mission-sending organizations. Many students are Americans, with quite a few coming from South Korea as well as a number of other countries. The campus is self-supporting, with its own water well and sewer system. Outside electric power is backed up by an on-campus generator that is programmed to start seconds after power fails and has the capacity to manage the needs of the entire campus.
Attending...or teaching...at RVA is expensive, and all students and staff have to provide their own support, including paying for lodging, utilities (power for an electric clothes dryer is $5-$10 per load, fortunately only necessary during the rainy season, when even clothes hung indoors take three-four days to dry), food, transportation, and all other typical family costs. Steve Peifer indicates that their family living expenses are about $6,000 monthly, with tuition for Ben and Katie, their adopted Kenyan twins, being an additional $9,000 annually. Raising just over $80,000 a year while teaching and caring for a family is no cakewalk. This amount is entirely separate from the funds for the rural school feeding and computer programs.
The Peifers' "real job," the reason for which they came to live in Kenya, is to serve on staff at RVA: Steve as college guidance counselor, and Nancy as head of the language department and French teacher. AIM, which oversees RVA and the adjacent Kijabe Hospital, is a coordinating organization rather than a sponsor: they do not provide missionary funds, and will not allow a missionary to resume his/her position annually unless all expenses have been committed by donors. Steve and Nancy have been fully funded for fourteen years.
Serving in Kenya is not without its physical risks. When elections resulted in violence during 2007, anger was expressed indiscriminately. Steve said, "I was almost sure I was going to be killed while delivering food to schools" during that period. "I have never been so scared." Following the bombing of the U. S. Embassy, officials at RVA were told that they were likely the next target, since so many youth and adult Americans ( almost all teaching staff are fromthe U. S.) were there. A grant helped place a tall security fence around the perimeter, with concrete posts shaped like inverted hockey sticks, chain link stretched across the lower part, and barbed wire with razor wire at the top. The large chapel, a "safe place" for students to gather, had all its windows removed and raised several feet, so that a person standing outside could not see to shoot directly at anyone inside.
The threat never reached the fence. The story is that a group of nationals bent on violence approached the school, but turned away when they saw "a large group of people, all dressed in white, defending the campus." Some long-time residents are convinced that this incident, like the prophet's account in the Old Testament, was an example of Divine intervention.
As Kenya's political climate is always fragile, guards monitor fence-tall heavy metal entrance gates around the clock, opening only after recognition and approval have been gained. One afternoon, from where we stayed on campus, I watched a small monkey walk delicately along the razor wire for a minute or two before leaping to a nearby tree. Nature has a way of overcoming manmade barriers.
RVA's educational program has had remarkable success. Students at the Peifers' home one evening said that the school has been ranked second in all the continent of Africa, surpassed only by one campus in South Africa (Johannesburg?). Students' life experiences, along with their academics, have caused them to be accepted and even sought-after by highly-respected colleges and universities.
Steve commented that a student some years ago showed remarkable heroism during a tragic accident. A fellow student's arm was severed, and he reacted immediately, wrapping up the severed limb and placing it in his back pack, placing a tourniquet on the girl's remaining stub, and taking her on his motorbike to the hospital just minutes away. Because of his quick action, a visiting orthopedic surgeon from Stanford was able to reattach the arm, and the girl recovered and regained 80% of its use. Yet, when the time came for writing an essay to accompany his college applications, the boy wanted to write about athletic competitions. Peifer told him, "No way! Write about the arm!" I believe Steve said that he, a fine student otherwise, was readily accepted to his first choice of schools...and others.
One of Steve Peifer's hallmarks as RVA college guidance counselor is his fearless attempts to get his students accepted into Ivy League schools and, even more, to find schools that "fit" his seniors well. In a previous job, Steve had opportunities to visit more than 1,500 college campuses, so an early task was breaking the pattern of students' applying to the same few Christian colleges each year. In the fourteen years he has been at RVA, six students have been accepted to Harvard, as well as others to Yale, Cornell, Wake Forest, and many other highly-respected schools.
Tammy and I enjoyed dinner two evenings at RVA's cafeteria, observing these seemingly very bright and socially well-adjusted young people, particularly remarkable since they were so far from families and home countries. Not knowing nor able easily to guess, I couldn't help asking myself while looking around: Who's going to Harvard?
*It's not cheap to be a missionary.
*I can see the monkey on the razor wire from here.
*Excellent education, caring culture
In 1906, missionary families in Africa who were concerned that the only quality education for their children meant sending them to England or to the
U. S. found some available land outside Nairobi and founded Rift Valley Academy (RVA), now under the auspices of AIM (Africa Inland Mission). RVA is a boarding school with classes for "Titchies"(grades K-6) and secondary (grades 7-12). Approximately 500 students attend whose families serve more than 70 mission-sending organizations. Many students are Americans, with quite a few coming from South Korea as well as a number of other countries. The campus is self-supporting, with its own water well and sewer system. Outside electric power is backed up by an on-campus generator that is programmed to start seconds after power fails and has the capacity to manage the needs of the entire campus.
Attending...or teaching...at RVA is expensive, and all students and staff have to provide their own support, including paying for lodging, utilities (power for an electric clothes dryer is $5-$10 per load, fortunately only necessary during the rainy season, when even clothes hung indoors take three-four days to dry), food, transportation, and all other typical family costs. Steve Peifer indicates that their family living expenses are about $6,000 monthly, with tuition for Ben and Katie, their adopted Kenyan twins, being an additional $9,000 annually. Raising just over $80,000 a year while teaching and caring for a family is no cakewalk. This amount is entirely separate from the funds for the rural school feeding and computer programs.
The Peifers' "real job," the reason for which they came to live in Kenya, is to serve on staff at RVA: Steve as college guidance counselor, and Nancy as head of the language department and French teacher. AIM, which oversees RVA and the adjacent Kijabe Hospital, is a coordinating organization rather than a sponsor: they do not provide missionary funds, and will not allow a missionary to resume his/her position annually unless all expenses have been committed by donors. Steve and Nancy have been fully funded for fourteen years.
Serving in Kenya is not without its physical risks. When elections resulted in violence during 2007, anger was expressed indiscriminately. Steve said, "I was almost sure I was going to be killed while delivering food to schools" during that period. "I have never been so scared." Following the bombing of the U. S. Embassy, officials at RVA were told that they were likely the next target, since so many youth and adult Americans ( almost all teaching staff are fromthe U. S.) were there. A grant helped place a tall security fence around the perimeter, with concrete posts shaped like inverted hockey sticks, chain link stretched across the lower part, and barbed wire with razor wire at the top. The large chapel, a "safe place" for students to gather, had all its windows removed and raised several feet, so that a person standing outside could not see to shoot directly at anyone inside.
The threat never reached the fence. The story is that a group of nationals bent on violence approached the school, but turned away when they saw "a large group of people, all dressed in white, defending the campus." Some long-time residents are convinced that this incident, like the prophet's account in the Old Testament, was an example of Divine intervention.
As Kenya's political climate is always fragile, guards monitor fence-tall heavy metal entrance gates around the clock, opening only after recognition and approval have been gained. One afternoon, from where we stayed on campus, I watched a small monkey walk delicately along the razor wire for a minute or two before leaping to a nearby tree. Nature has a way of overcoming manmade barriers.
RVA's educational program has had remarkable success. Students at the Peifers' home one evening said that the school has been ranked second in all the continent of Africa, surpassed only by one campus in South Africa (Johannesburg?). Students' life experiences, along with their academics, have caused them to be accepted and even sought-after by highly-respected colleges and universities.
Steve commented that a student some years ago showed remarkable heroism during a tragic accident. A fellow student's arm was severed, and he reacted immediately, wrapping up the severed limb and placing it in his back pack, placing a tourniquet on the girl's remaining stub, and taking her on his motorbike to the hospital just minutes away. Because of his quick action, a visiting orthopedic surgeon from Stanford was able to reattach the arm, and the girl recovered and regained 80% of its use. Yet, when the time came for writing an essay to accompany his college applications, the boy wanted to write about athletic competitions. Peifer told him, "No way! Write about the arm!" I believe Steve said that he, a fine student otherwise, was readily accepted to his first choice of schools...and others.
One of Steve Peifer's hallmarks as RVA college guidance counselor is his fearless attempts to get his students accepted into Ivy League schools and, even more, to find schools that "fit" his seniors well. In a previous job, Steve had opportunities to visit more than 1,500 college campuses, so an early task was breaking the pattern of students' applying to the same few Christian colleges each year. In the fourteen years he has been at RVA, six students have been accepted to Harvard, as well as others to Yale, Cornell, Wake Forest, and many other highly-respected schools.
Tammy and I enjoyed dinner two evenings at RVA's cafeteria, observing these seemingly very bright and socially well-adjusted young people, particularly remarkable since they were so far from families and home countries. Not knowing nor able easily to guess, I couldn't help asking myself while looking around: Who's going to Harvard?
Friday, 21 June 2013
A Drive for Education
*Where do you start?
*What's cooking?
*If you don't like the way I drive, stay off the walking path.
*The eyes have it.
It's hard to know where to start. Could you spend $1,000 (85,000 ksh) per student and bring in electricity, heating, air conditioning, a paved playground area, running-water toilets, and textbooks? Probably not; it'd be more expensive than that, and the students aren't accustomed to these at home, anyway.
What does the government do, in addition to funding Classes 1-8 teacher salaries, as meager as they seem? According to the financial chart at Nyakairu Primary School, the Ministry of Education provided 165 ksh ($2) per child in 2012 for textbooks and supplies. Ever bought a $2 textbook? Of the $890 they received for their 463 students, they bought or repaired a few (softbound pamphlet) textbooks, bought exercise books, supplementary references, pencils, erasers, chalk, and some maps and charts.
How does kenyakidscan.org help? By helping children want to come to school through high-impact contributions at low financial impact to student families who are helping themselves help their children succeed. Mark Daubenmier, teacher at Rift Valley Academy who is assuming the role of volunteer coordinator as program founders Steve and Nancy Peifer return to the U. S., cites low administrative costs.
Donors provide the $.08 daily food cost per child, which includes purchasing and delivering (in comparison, a larger well-known organization quotes meal prices of $.15 per child); schools provide kitchen shed and cooking pots; and parents provide cooks and firewood. The Peifers' feeding program has one employee, Lucy, who personally oversees both the feeding and computer center programs. A native Kenyan and former teacher in one of the computer centers, she is paid along standard rates for her area.
The computer program has fourteen employees, whose pay is about $140-$160 each monthly, provided by donors. For the school family costs of cooking alone, the students receive hot lunches daily and two computer lessons weekly. For the 20,000 daily (460,000 monthly) lunches and fourteen computer centers, donors provide approximately $40,000 per month. In Fort Worth ISD, where I teach, that would feed just over half the students one day's lunch, with no thought to computer help.
What's the outcome? Students attend class every day (>90% daily rate), excited and ready. They can focus on learning because they aren't starving, and they are learning valuable computer skills that increase their marketability and broaden their opportunities for employment upon leaving school. High impact, low cost: it's a pretty cool way to help. All this started because one man's heart was broken after seeing starving children during a private school's holiday food distribution, and he decided to try helping one school.
Which way did they go?
On the way to one remote campus Thursday, we lost our way because the road disappeared. Lucy commented that, for some of the outlying campuses, they are visited by vehicles so infrequently (she often walks in from the highway, where public transportation ends; the food delivery truck only comes every three months) that the trails become overgrown and are hard to find. We were looking for someone to help with directions, and I made the mistake of photographing a cyclist without his permission. Apparently he was frightened, and disappeared down a path. A young woman, walking through a pasture, was apprehensive, but spoke a little in Swahili with our driver.
We started driving along a walking path and encountered a man leading a mule cart. After a brief conversation, our driver began making his own road through the grass (and thorn bushes, I might add, while I was interceding in prayer for the tires) past a shepherd and through a herd of sheep and goats until he found a vehicle trail that he and Lucy recognized. We turned onto the trail and proceeded to the school.
These school visits not only touch the heart, they sting the eyes. The cooking sheds are mostly enclosed, because this is winter, and the people here really don't like the cold. It's actually about fifty degrees Fahrenheit, slightly breezy, extremely humid, and overcast. We think it may be preferable to the typical 100F we encounter during Texas summers, so we just put on a light jacket or sweatshirt and smile.
But they're in a 10' X 15' tin shed with a wood fire, boiling pots, and the door closed. It may be a little warmer (nothing here is sealed or insulated), but the eye pain from all the smoke is unbearable. A gaunt older woman is crouched in a corner, and her eyes are filled with tears; she doesn't even try to smile as she stands when we enter. The food smells good, but the smoke drives us out of the room almost immediately.
She and the other cooks are doing a great service for the children, but I will never be able to forget those eyes. Among the tears, did I catch a glimmer of hope?
Thursday, 20 June 2013
Making music in Kenya
*Free public education, sort of
*Computer teachers, for real
*Winning national music competitions
Since the 1980s, public primary education has been tuition-free in Kenya. For grades 1-8, teachers (about $2800/year, less deductions) and textbooks and supplies (about $2/year per student) are funded by the government (figures come from interviewing residents and seeing campus financial accounting posters).
As a result, textbooks are basically pamphlets shared by several (3-5) students. Buildings are non-insulated block construction, with bare pock-marked concrete floors and tin roofs. There's no heating, air-conditioning, or electricity. There's little grass but dirt everywhere outside, so classroom floors are dust-covered. The head teacher's (read, "principal's") office is comparable.
Secondary (grades 8-12) and pre-unit (kindergarten and younger) are private and not free. In many areas, it seems that secondary boarding schools were the first to spring up, with a cost around $1500 annually. More recently, day secondary schools have sprung up in some areas with annual tuition of only about $100-$110, plus lunches. All primary students in Class (grade) 8 take end-of term exams, the scores of which give them greater or fewer choices of secondary schools to attend.
If you are an average uneducated adult making about a dollar a day, neither of the secondary choices is affordable, and precious few private scholarships are available. Students who are low-scoring do not qualify, regardless, and most enter some sort of job training, or marry, or both. Age limits for primary school seem not to exist, to the extent that even some married adults will attend primary school to improve their education and job opportunities.
Parents seem to be concerned for their children's education, even prior to Class 1, and the national teachers' union is lobbying for government-funded pre-unit (kindergarten) classes. We visited a remote campus that is higher-performing and sought-after so much that parents will send their children past closer schools, walking a minimum of 2-1/2 miles and up to 5 miles to attend.
They built a room for ECD (Early Childhood Development, ages 3 ("baby,"), 4 ("middle"), and 5 ("pre-unit") with 33 students currently enrolled. The teacher is not funded by the government, so they ask families to contribute $30 per school year. If everyone paid, the teacher would make just under $1,000 annually, a little more than 1/3 of a government-funded teacher's pay.
But a number of students here are orphans, whose host families cannot afford to support another child, and other families are so poor that they cannot pay tuition for their own. Probably less than 20 families actually pay for their children's attending. The school can't bear to send children away whose families are interested enough to send them to school daily, so the teacher walks or borrows a ride down these muddy and nearly impassable roads to make about $2 per teaching day, facing 33 faces with three distinct developmental levels who need hope and a head start, without any professional teaching materials and almost no supplies. Interested in a challenge?
Computer teachers funded by kenyakidscan.org are the real deal. Most are young and all are enthusiastic. The teachers collaborated in recent years to create their own syllabus (okay, teachers:scope and sequence) of specific goals and objectives for Classes 1-8. The lessons begin in basic familiarity with components and functions and extend to considerable mastery of MS Office, including Word, Excel, and Access. Lucy, the feeding program/computer center head teacher, says the syllabus will soon be updated to include Office 2007, an upgrade from the current 2003.
One teacher we met Thursday has been teaching in the program for two years and is in her second year of University, taking classes in computer science and mathematics during primary school quarterly term breaks. She moved in January to a brand-new center donated by "Arlington Heights High School, Class of 1973," Steve Peifer's alma mater and graduating class. Since each center costs $15K-$20K to set up, that was a nice class project! The teacher accelerated lessons in this new program, giving the Class 8 students four 35-minute lessons weekly rather than the typical two each week, helping them do some catching up before leaving primary school in early August.
The computer centers suffered losses a few years ago, with thieves assaulting staff and stealing a number of laptops. All these centers are funded by voluntary donations and many centers provided by individuals or limited-fund organizations; the thefts were quite a blow to the program. Since then, doubled locking doors and window burglar bars discourage break-ins, and a welded-to-the-wall secure metal footlocker houses the laptops when not in use.
How do primary students make music in Kenya? Very skillfully, it seems, according to the certificates and trophies at Kiriko Primary School, including awards "at the national level." Students generally receive no music training, but a select group rehearses traditional songs under the direction of one of the Class teachers for area competitions.
These students not only make music, they make the music makers! A couple of cowbells with improvised wire wrapping become handbells; hand-sawn 1" X 2" hardwood sticks on an old drawer become a marimba (surprisingly in tune, too). Two tin rectangles, punched with holes and with handmade handles mounted, become sandpaper blocks. A long piece of scavenged PVC pipe becomes a drone or pedal tone; a gourd and stick with a stranded-wire "string" and a bentwood bow with twine become a single-note fiddle. Handmade drums with a small chair behind become a drum kit; a small ring of heavy metal pipe with a metal rod become a clave. And a ram's horn with flutelike embouchure carved by hand keeps being a horn. A native flute may have been the only instrument not made by the students.
While we were outside watching the students at lunch, the head teacher gathered the performing group for an impromptu presentation. When they were ready, he invited us into an uncluttered classroom (music room?). As they began a rhythmic pattern, a student leader (playing a long tube with a broken gourd at the end) introduced the group. They proceeded with their song in jazz style, alternating ensemble playing with solo performances by the various students during background playing by the rest of the group. There being 10-12 performers, each playing in turn, the song lasted five minutes or so. I was attempting to record the performance, but put down device near the end and began playing my flutelike recorder with them. They were both fascinated and amused and had to come closer for a look when their song ended.
We left forty recorders and matching instruction books for them with the head teacher. These were donated in part or discounted by Bob and Laura Bergin of Sweet Pipes in Arlington. Longtime friends, they are the source for recorders used at home with fourth- and fifth-grade classes. Presenting a soccer ball for all students ended our visit there.
The school's head teacher made a personal phone call to Lucy, the Peifer program's head teacher and our guide, that same evening to say the students had already tried out the recorders in the afternoon and were really enjoying them.
*Computer teachers, for real
*Winning national music competitions
Since the 1980s, public primary education has been tuition-free in Kenya. For grades 1-8, teachers (about $2800/year, less deductions) and textbooks and supplies (about $2/year per student) are funded by the government (figures come from interviewing residents and seeing campus financial accounting posters).
As a result, textbooks are basically pamphlets shared by several (3-5) students. Buildings are non-insulated block construction, with bare pock-marked concrete floors and tin roofs. There's no heating, air-conditioning, or electricity. There's little grass but dirt everywhere outside, so classroom floors are dust-covered. The head teacher's (read, "principal's") office is comparable.
Secondary (grades 8-12) and pre-unit (kindergarten and younger) are private and not free. In many areas, it seems that secondary boarding schools were the first to spring up, with a cost around $1500 annually. More recently, day secondary schools have sprung up in some areas with annual tuition of only about $100-$110, plus lunches. All primary students in Class (grade) 8 take end-of term exams, the scores of which give them greater or fewer choices of secondary schools to attend.
If you are an average uneducated adult making about a dollar a day, neither of the secondary choices is affordable, and precious few private scholarships are available. Students who are low-scoring do not qualify, regardless, and most enter some sort of job training, or marry, or both. Age limits for primary school seem not to exist, to the extent that even some married adults will attend primary school to improve their education and job opportunities.
Parents seem to be concerned for their children's education, even prior to Class 1, and the national teachers' union is lobbying for government-funded pre-unit (kindergarten) classes. We visited a remote campus that is higher-performing and sought-after so much that parents will send their children past closer schools, walking a minimum of 2-1/2 miles and up to 5 miles to attend.
They built a room for ECD (Early Childhood Development, ages 3 ("baby,"), 4 ("middle"), and 5 ("pre-unit") with 33 students currently enrolled. The teacher is not funded by the government, so they ask families to contribute $30 per school year. If everyone paid, the teacher would make just under $1,000 annually, a little more than 1/3 of a government-funded teacher's pay.
But a number of students here are orphans, whose host families cannot afford to support another child, and other families are so poor that they cannot pay tuition for their own. Probably less than 20 families actually pay for their children's attending. The school can't bear to send children away whose families are interested enough to send them to school daily, so the teacher walks or borrows a ride down these muddy and nearly impassable roads to make about $2 per teaching day, facing 33 faces with three distinct developmental levels who need hope and a head start, without any professional teaching materials and almost no supplies. Interested in a challenge?
Computer teachers funded by kenyakidscan.org are the real deal. Most are young and all are enthusiastic. The teachers collaborated in recent years to create their own syllabus (okay, teachers:scope and sequence) of specific goals and objectives for Classes 1-8. The lessons begin in basic familiarity with components and functions and extend to considerable mastery of MS Office, including Word, Excel, and Access. Lucy, the feeding program/computer center head teacher, says the syllabus will soon be updated to include Office 2007, an upgrade from the current 2003.
One teacher we met Thursday has been teaching in the program for two years and is in her second year of University, taking classes in computer science and mathematics during primary school quarterly term breaks. She moved in January to a brand-new center donated by "Arlington Heights High School, Class of 1973," Steve Peifer's alma mater and graduating class. Since each center costs $15K-$20K to set up, that was a nice class project! The teacher accelerated lessons in this new program, giving the Class 8 students four 35-minute lessons weekly rather than the typical two each week, helping them do some catching up before leaving primary school in early August.
The computer centers suffered losses a few years ago, with thieves assaulting staff and stealing a number of laptops. All these centers are funded by voluntary donations and many centers provided by individuals or limited-fund organizations; the thefts were quite a blow to the program. Since then, doubled locking doors and window burglar bars discourage break-ins, and a welded-to-the-wall secure metal footlocker houses the laptops when not in use.
How do primary students make music in Kenya? Very skillfully, it seems, according to the certificates and trophies at Kiriko Primary School, including awards "at the national level." Students generally receive no music training, but a select group rehearses traditional songs under the direction of one of the Class teachers for area competitions.
These students not only make music, they make the music makers! A couple of cowbells with improvised wire wrapping become handbells; hand-sawn 1" X 2" hardwood sticks on an old drawer become a marimba (surprisingly in tune, too). Two tin rectangles, punched with holes and with handmade handles mounted, become sandpaper blocks. A long piece of scavenged PVC pipe becomes a drone or pedal tone; a gourd and stick with a stranded-wire "string" and a bentwood bow with twine become a single-note fiddle. Handmade drums with a small chair behind become a drum kit; a small ring of heavy metal pipe with a metal rod become a clave. And a ram's horn with flutelike embouchure carved by hand keeps being a horn. A native flute may have been the only instrument not made by the students.
While we were outside watching the students at lunch, the head teacher gathered the performing group for an impromptu presentation. When they were ready, he invited us into an uncluttered classroom (music room?). As they began a rhythmic pattern, a student leader (playing a long tube with a broken gourd at the end) introduced the group. They proceeded with their song in jazz style, alternating ensemble playing with solo performances by the various students during background playing by the rest of the group. There being 10-12 performers, each playing in turn, the song lasted five minutes or so. I was attempting to record the performance, but put down device near the end and began playing my flutelike recorder with them. They were both fascinated and amused and had to come closer for a look when their song ended.
We left forty recorders and matching instruction books for them with the head teacher. These were donated in part or discounted by Bob and Laura Bergin of Sweet Pipes in Arlington. Longtime friends, they are the source for recorders used at home with fourth- and fifth-grade classes. Presenting a soccer ball for all students ended our visit there.
The school's head teacher made a personal phone call to Lucy, the Peifer program's head teacher and our guide, that same evening to say the students had already tried out the recorders in the afternoon and were really enjoying them.
Wednesday, 19 June 2013
Mudslide
Tuesday, I began to believe several things about Kenya:
1. Despite owning two Honda Accords, I am a devoted Toyota fan. 2. Speed limit signs are totally unnecessary. 3. Giraffes have tough lips. 4. The Hispanic presence here is negligible. 5. Children's smiles are a universal language.
T uesday morning, we set out to visit three of the twenty-five schools supported by www.kenyakidscan.org to provide daily lunches to nearly 20,000 students and computer labs on twenty of those campuses to give MS Office training weekly. A hard rain the previous night left the rural dirt roads nearly impassable. Ben, our Kenyan driver, piloted his four-wheel drive diesel Toyota minivan like a road rally driver, probably only slowing for our benefit....we could become a bit scared, and there was no onboard restroom. Twice, I thought we might roll over, sliding to the side of the road and landing in the rut, only to watch Ben use the rut to hold us straight as we slid downhill far enough to regain traction. On our return trip, he even got out of the van to help a novice Land Rover driver get his vehicle into full four-wheel drive mode so as not to stay stuck. The trip to our first school, about fifty miles into the countryside, took two and a half hours.
Speed limit signs are a waste of resources. Public vehicles(buses, trucks, vans for hire) are physically (mechanically/electronically) restricted to 80 km/h (50 mph), and apparently fines are quite high (along with traffic police corruption) if you find a way around the limits. Passenger vehicles are limited to 110 km/h (68 mph). Some nice highways have been built, but we used them maybe ten per cent of our journey. Our route was down roads with huge potholes, paved years ago but suffering the total lack of maintenance, or down muddy dirt trails with occasional washouts from recent rains.
The 80 km/h speed limit laughed at us almost the whole trip.
Tammy saw her first giraffes in the wild today. There is no doubt that, given resources and opportunity, she would have an entire zoo on our homestead somewhere near town. Of course, the driver had to stop so she could admire, photograph, and invite them to come be petted. They declined the final offer, but watched curiously from a safe distance. The giraffes began eating from a tree common to the area, the flat-topped variety seen in many African landscape photos. They seemed quite content, so I asked Ben what sort of trees these were. He replied, "acacia," (remember Biblical references to this tree?) and I didn't think much of it until getting a look up close. This is not what I'd call a tree. This is a huge, brutal thornbush (think barbed wire on steroids) with a little green sprayed around the top. Its smaller shrub-sized cousin makes an unbelievably good privacy fence.
It's obvious that giraffes have tough lips.
And, where are the Hispanics? I teach in a 99% Hispanic school in Fort Worth, Texas, so Kenya presents a big cultural adjustment. At our first stop following landing at the airport the previous day, I had decided against the nachos listed in the menu. After all, isn't Spain closer to Kenya than to America? The Hispanic impact here is negligible.
But what about those smiles?
As we approached Najile Primary School, children in school uniforms, many threadbare, came out to greet us. A doorway in the gate was open, but an older student came out with a key to unlock the gate to make room for the van to enter. NPS's motto, written on old stained poster board is, " Discipline and hard work lead to success," and their mission reads, " To raise up disciplined and hard-working citizens for a better tomorrow." There's no electricity in the classrooms, and only one faucet in the middle of the dirt courtyard which becomes a mud hole as hundreds of students rinse off their lunch bowls and spoons. Their mix of corn, beans, and fat is cooked over an open wood-fueled fire in a corner of a wood-and-tin shed. Students line up at the door to have their bowls filled, then eat outside standing en masse because there is no dining room or adequate seating outdoors. In inclement weather, they may get wet to get their bowls filled, then return to their classrooms to eat. Students have an extended lunch period, but their shool day starts at 7 A.M. and ends somewhere between 3:10 P.M. and 5 P.M., depending on school and grade level, older students staying longer. Some students may walk two-three miles each way to attend daily.
What helps them keep coming back is the food, provided by kenyakidscan.org as people donate internationally. Many of these schools are in areas subject to extreme drought, and these lunches are the only real meal (nutritional minimums as determined by the World Health Organization) that the children receive daily. The foodstuffs cost $.08 per child per day, or $80 daily for a school of 1,000 students. The low cost (although it was only $.015 per child less than ten years ago) is accomplished by keeping the program as Kenyan as possible: local farmers, native buyers, and creating a partnership with each school. Each campus must provide a kitchen, cook pots, and people (parent volunteers or hired by parents) to cook. Students must provide their own bowls and spoons. One sponsored school, averaging fifty per cent attending daily, saw its attendance rise to more than ninety per cent after the feeding program began, with additional students attracted to enroll. That school also saw a dramatic increase in academic performance, rising from near last in their area to first or second place.
Seeming out of place, not so much architecturally but functionally, is the computer lab. Conceived by Steve Peifer and designed by a friend, this is a wilderness marvel. A metal storage container, perhaps 20' X 10', has been sculpted by cutting openings and inserting windows (with burglar bars) and steel door, installing rooftop solar panels and placing ten laptop PCs inside on a rudimentary wraparound student desk, with benches to match. A small teacher desk is across from the door.
A structured curriculum guides students through basic components and functions in Class 1 (1st grade) to considerable mastery of MS Office (Word, Excel, and Access) by Class 8. The vision is that students have adequate nutrition to stay in school and that they have computer skills upon completing classes, able to land skilled jobs that will lift them out of their generational poverty.
And my, how they smile!
With seemingly so little for which to be grateful, they showed great spirit and enthusiasm. Rather than clamoring to see what we had brought them, they pressed close to smile, look us in the eyes, and shake our hands. They joyously received the gifts we had offered: a soccer ball or two and decorated pencils...although only for one grade level, due to the great number of students.
Mudslide, indeed. The trip's not so long when you see the smile of a child.
1. Despite owning two Honda Accords, I am a devoted Toyota fan. 2. Speed limit signs are totally unnecessary. 3. Giraffes have tough lips. 4. The Hispanic presence here is negligible. 5. Children's smiles are a universal language.
T uesday morning, we set out to visit three of the twenty-five schools supported by www.kenyakidscan.org to provide daily lunches to nearly 20,000 students and computer labs on twenty of those campuses to give MS Office training weekly. A hard rain the previous night left the rural dirt roads nearly impassable. Ben, our Kenyan driver, piloted his four-wheel drive diesel Toyota minivan like a road rally driver, probably only slowing for our benefit....we could become a bit scared, and there was no onboard restroom. Twice, I thought we might roll over, sliding to the side of the road and landing in the rut, only to watch Ben use the rut to hold us straight as we slid downhill far enough to regain traction. On our return trip, he even got out of the van to help a novice Land Rover driver get his vehicle into full four-wheel drive mode so as not to stay stuck. The trip to our first school, about fifty miles into the countryside, took two and a half hours.
I like Toyotas.
Speed limit signs are a waste of resources. Public vehicles(buses, trucks, vans for hire) are physically (mechanically/electronically) restricted to 80 km/h (50 mph), and apparently fines are quite high (along with traffic police corruption) if you find a way around the limits. Passenger vehicles are limited to 110 km/h (68 mph). Some nice highways have been built, but we used them maybe ten per cent of our journey. Our route was down roads with huge potholes, paved years ago but suffering the total lack of maintenance, or down muddy dirt trails with occasional washouts from recent rains.
The 80 km/h speed limit laughed at us almost the whole trip.
Tammy saw her first giraffes in the wild today. There is no doubt that, given resources and opportunity, she would have an entire zoo on our homestead somewhere near town. Of course, the driver had to stop so she could admire, photograph, and invite them to come be petted. They declined the final offer, but watched curiously from a safe distance. The giraffes began eating from a tree common to the area, the flat-topped variety seen in many African landscape photos. They seemed quite content, so I asked Ben what sort of trees these were. He replied, "acacia," (remember Biblical references to this tree?) and I didn't think much of it until getting a look up close. This is not what I'd call a tree. This is a huge, brutal thornbush (think barbed wire on steroids) with a little green sprayed around the top. Its smaller shrub-sized cousin makes an unbelievably good privacy fence.
It's obvious that giraffes have tough lips.
And, where are the Hispanics? I teach in a 99% Hispanic school in Fort Worth, Texas, so Kenya presents a big cultural adjustment. At our first stop following landing at the airport the previous day, I had decided against the nachos listed in the menu. After all, isn't Spain closer to Kenya than to America? The Hispanic impact here is negligible.
But what about those smiles?
As we approached Najile Primary School, children in school uniforms, many threadbare, came out to greet us. A doorway in the gate was open, but an older student came out with a key to unlock the gate to make room for the van to enter. NPS's motto, written on old stained poster board is, " Discipline and hard work lead to success," and their mission reads, " To raise up disciplined and hard-working citizens for a better tomorrow." There's no electricity in the classrooms, and only one faucet in the middle of the dirt courtyard which becomes a mud hole as hundreds of students rinse off their lunch bowls and spoons. Their mix of corn, beans, and fat is cooked over an open wood-fueled fire in a corner of a wood-and-tin shed. Students line up at the door to have their bowls filled, then eat outside standing en masse because there is no dining room or adequate seating outdoors. In inclement weather, they may get wet to get their bowls filled, then return to their classrooms to eat. Students have an extended lunch period, but their shool day starts at 7 A.M. and ends somewhere between 3:10 P.M. and 5 P.M., depending on school and grade level, older students staying longer. Some students may walk two-three miles each way to attend daily.
What helps them keep coming back is the food, provided by kenyakidscan.org as people donate internationally. Many of these schools are in areas subject to extreme drought, and these lunches are the only real meal (nutritional minimums as determined by the World Health Organization) that the children receive daily. The foodstuffs cost $.08 per child per day, or $80 daily for a school of 1,000 students. The low cost (although it was only $.015 per child less than ten years ago) is accomplished by keeping the program as Kenyan as possible: local farmers, native buyers, and creating a partnership with each school. Each campus must provide a kitchen, cook pots, and people (parent volunteers or hired by parents) to cook. Students must provide their own bowls and spoons. One sponsored school, averaging fifty per cent attending daily, saw its attendance rise to more than ninety per cent after the feeding program began, with additional students attracted to enroll. That school also saw a dramatic increase in academic performance, rising from near last in their area to first or second place.
Seeming out of place, not so much architecturally but functionally, is the computer lab. Conceived by Steve Peifer and designed by a friend, this is a wilderness marvel. A metal storage container, perhaps 20' X 10', has been sculpted by cutting openings and inserting windows (with burglar bars) and steel door, installing rooftop solar panels and placing ten laptop PCs inside on a rudimentary wraparound student desk, with benches to match. A small teacher desk is across from the door.
A structured curriculum guides students through basic components and functions in Class 1 (1st grade) to considerable mastery of MS Office (Word, Excel, and Access) by Class 8. The vision is that students have adequate nutrition to stay in school and that they have computer skills upon completing classes, able to land skilled jobs that will lift them out of their generational poverty.
And my, how they smile!
With seemingly so little for which to be grateful, they showed great spirit and enthusiasm. Rather than clamoring to see what we had brought them, they pressed close to smile, look us in the eyes, and shake our hands. They joyously received the gifts we had offered: a soccer ball or two and decorated pencils...although only for one grade level, due to the great number of students.
Mudslide, indeed. The trip's not so long when you see the smile of a child.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)