Monday, June 29, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
In case you have been wondering what Pads for Progress is exactly...
Pads for Progress aims to produce and supply reusable sanitary pads to disadvantaged girls in and around the Kakamega area in an effort to support gender equality in schools. The World Health Organization estimates that 1 in 10 school-aged girls in Africa miss one or more days each month during their menstruation. In a country such as Kenya where GPA and class rank based scholarships play a integral role in a student’s ability to attend a secondary school or even a university, a lack of sanitary supplies puts girls at a significant academic disadvantage.
While on this trip I have seen gender discrimination that I could not have even imagined before I came here. Women and girls are not given as many educational opportunities or encouragement and are therefore forced into a cycle of financial dependency on men. Due to this lack of education, women currently also make up 75% of the agricultural labor force in Kenya. I have talked with numerous women, some educated and some not, about this problem and all have led me to the same conclusion: If we can fight to make women financial independent by providing them with equal education and academic support as well as providing them with income generating activities, we will have taken the first step towards gender equality in Kenya and in Africa.
Pads for Progress addresses both of these ideas. The project provides a unique business opportunity in the form of an income generating activity to select tailoring girls from disadvantaged backgrounds by teaching them how to make the reusable pads and providing them with business enterprise training. At the same time this project also aims to buy the pads from the girls and supply them to disadvantaged school girls in the ACCES schools in order to keep these girls from missing school during their menstruation. Too many NGOs, like ACCES, and individual Kenyan girls struggle to buy sufficient disposable pads to keep them in school during their menstruation. One reusable pad kit can be washed and reused for up to five years, proving these NGOs and girls with a more economical, sustainable, and environmentally friendly way to handle their periods while staying in school.
Pads for Progress has already been under way for about three weeks now. The girls have finished the first couple samples to provide in a pilot run of the product to 40 girls in one of the ACCES schools. Some of the tailoring girls have even asked if they can make some for themselves and their friends which speaks to the potential popularity of this project! After the pilot run the product will be modified on the basis of questionnaires evaluating the efficiency of the product and then opened up to the greater Kakamega market by the tailoring girls and with the help of ACCES.
I truly believe this project has a huge potential in the Kakamega market as well as in the greater Kenyan market. However, in order to continue the project, I am looking for funding to ensure the long-term sustainability and expansion of the project. I have begun an online fundraising campaign which ends on Friday, June 26 and which you can access at http://fsdinternational.org/donate/projects/Lang.
This is just one project to help alleviate the gender inequality in Kenya, but I really believe that it can go a long way. If it does nothing else, it will certainly change the lives of the eight tailoring girls who I have hand-picked to help lead the project, but I know it is going to do a lot more. I would really appreciate any support you can offer and the website allows for direct tax-free donations that you can make with your credit card. Thank you so much in advance for your help!
While on this trip I have seen gender discrimination that I could not have even imagined before I came here. Women and girls are not given as many educational opportunities or encouragement and are therefore forced into a cycle of financial dependency on men. Due to this lack of education, women currently also make up 75% of the agricultural labor force in Kenya. I have talked with numerous women, some educated and some not, about this problem and all have led me to the same conclusion: If we can fight to make women financial independent by providing them with equal education and academic support as well as providing them with income generating activities, we will have taken the first step towards gender equality in Kenya and in Africa.
Pads for Progress addresses both of these ideas. The project provides a unique business opportunity in the form of an income generating activity to select tailoring girls from disadvantaged backgrounds by teaching them how to make the reusable pads and providing them with business enterprise training. At the same time this project also aims to buy the pads from the girls and supply them to disadvantaged school girls in the ACCES schools in order to keep these girls from missing school during their menstruation. Too many NGOs, like ACCES, and individual Kenyan girls struggle to buy sufficient disposable pads to keep them in school during their menstruation. One reusable pad kit can be washed and reused for up to five years, proving these NGOs and girls with a more economical, sustainable, and environmentally friendly way to handle their periods while staying in school.
Pads for Progress has already been under way for about three weeks now. The girls have finished the first couple samples to provide in a pilot run of the product to 40 girls in one of the ACCES schools. Some of the tailoring girls have even asked if they can make some for themselves and their friends which speaks to the potential popularity of this project! After the pilot run the product will be modified on the basis of questionnaires evaluating the efficiency of the product and then opened up to the greater Kakamega market by the tailoring girls and with the help of ACCES.
I truly believe this project has a huge potential in the Kakamega market as well as in the greater Kenyan market. However, in order to continue the project, I am looking for funding to ensure the long-term sustainability and expansion of the project. I have begun an online fundraising campaign which ends on Friday, June 26 and which you can access at http://fsdinternational.org/donate/projects/Lang.
This is just one project to help alleviate the gender inequality in Kenya, but I really believe that it can go a long way. If it does nothing else, it will certainly change the lives of the eight tailoring girls who I have hand-picked to help lead the project, but I know it is going to do a lot more. I would really appreciate any support you can offer and the website allows for direct tax-free donations that you can make with your credit card. Thank you so much in advance for your help!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Pad-Making Workshops
One of the girls from the workshop and me after she attempted to teach me to use a sewing machine.
One group of girls making their first pad samples.
The first full pad kit! (I love the colors)
My entire pad-making team right after I picked them!
Pads for Progress is going really well! We had our pad-making workshop last Thursday and all thirty of the girls were able to make kits on their own by the end of the day. My good friend Emma (the pad-making expert) came in to help lead the session, considering I know nothing about sewing, and she did a fabulous job. The business enterprise workshop the next day was also great. My friend Steve who works with microfinance groups all over Kakamega came in to lead it and really got the girls excited about the market potential for their product.
After the workshop I viewed the samples of all thirty girls and then picked the eight most diligent and best pad-makers to comprise of my pad-making team. All eight girls were really enthusiastic about the project and when I went back yesterday to see how much they have accomplished I was blown away by how hard and fast they are working. Some of the girls even shyly asked if they could make some reusable pads for themselves and their sisters and one teacher asked if I would make a reusable pad kit for each of her daughters.
During the workshops there was one girl who was always the first to offer to sew something, to ask a question, and to offer one of my colleagues or me a seat. I immediately respected this girl’s tremendous work ethic and general jovial manner. I knew right away I wanted her on the team. Then during our lunch break on the second day of workshops this girl asked me if she could talk to me privately in the other room for a minute. She looked as if she was about to tear up so I said of course and she quickly led me into another room.
She said, “I need to show you something that makes me really sad.” After checking to make sure no one else was around, she lifted up her skirt to reveal a bizarre looking rash/ pigmentation change on her thigh.
“What is this?” she asked me, obviously trusting in the stereotype that all white people over in Kenya are doctors here to help people with medical issues. I told her I had no idea and that I was not by any means a doctor and that she should probably go to the hospital to have it checked out. Images of Kaposi’s Syndrome and Melanoma were flashing through my head. She said that the hospital did not know what it was and could not test her further unless she paid them more money which she did not have.
The girl then went on to describe the constant pain she feels in her leg as well as in her chest and the fact that her eye sight seemed to be deteriorating. I asked her quietly if she had ever had an HIV test and she responded in a whisper that she had not and did not need one. AIDS is rarely spoken about here. Then she asked me in a chillingly calm voice, “Am I going to die?”
I immediately said no, thinking this girl is only sixteen! Then I thought about the fact that my host family had already lost two out of their eight children and that two girls living with our family are their because they have been orphans for most of their lives.
“Can you help me please?” she asked.
I felt directly responsible for this girl. I had no idea what was on her leg or how serious it was but this girl was putting her health in my hands and I had no idea what to do. As much as I wanted to get involved and take her immediately to get an HIV test, I wondered if I would be the one that she wanted beside her when she got that test (I had only known her about two weeks) and if I was capable of helping her cope with the results.
I told her I would do some research and come back the next day. When I went back she started crying and telling me she was in even more pain that day and being able to see the blackboard was becoming impossible. She sobbed asking me, “Do you know if I am going to die yet?” I told her I thought she would be okay but that I wanted to bring a doctor who worked for ACCES to see her. She did not like this idea which seemed strange to me.
Later I found out from some coworkers that this girl had lived with her impoverished parents until one day the girl’s mother had come home to find her father with another woman and simply left the family. Besides sexually abusing the girl, the father had no need for a daughter so she too was forced to leave. She went to live with a more financially stable lady who earned her living as a prostitute. Soon this lady’s lifestyle grew on the girl and she quickly became pregnant. This girl knew she could not raise this baby and that being a single mother in Kenya is very difficult so, being that abortion is illegal in Kenya, she induced an abortion on her own by taking local herbs.
I was shocked by this story and could hardly believe that this girl was the same girl who I had been working with. My coworkers suggested that possibly the abortion or her previous lifestyle had something to do with her rash. I went back to the school and asked the girl if there was anything else that she wanted to tell me about herself and her past so that I could help her and she just looked down and the floor and said really quietly, “It is very bad at home.”
I am bringing the doctor from ACCES with me today to go see her again and to check in on the further progress on the pads. The hard work, dedication, and enthusiasm of some of these girls, in spite of the many difficulties that life has presented to them, has been truly inspiring. I would have never guessed that girl was suffering in the way that she was had she not pulled me aside to ask me whether or not she was going to die.
People here have warned all of us not to get too involved with people like this girl because you might find yourself constantly paying doctor bills and taking her to the hospital. I totally understand this reasoning. However, I have to wonder, how involved is too involved? How can you turn away from a person who so clearly needs help that you may be able to provide? Would if whatever this girl has is curable but without medical treatment she will die? Who wants that on their conscience? As young and naive as I might be, I find myself also wondering, are we simply being realistic to think that we can't help everyone, or are we selling ourselves short?
Fundraising!
Please help to support Pads For Progress by donating today at http://fsdinternational.org/donate/projects/Lang. All donations are welcome and can be made tax-free directly on the website using a credit card! Pictures and updates on the huge success of the pad-making workshop and buisness enterprise workshop last week are coming soon! Thank you all in advance for your support!
Monday, June 15, 2009
A HUGE Thanks!
A HUGE thanks goes out to Elizabeth Meeks from Humanicare who single-handedly sent ACCES a package of sample pads free from the US in under a week. How did she do this? She literally mailed a package from the US to "small brown buidling # 456, dirt road, the middle of nowhere, Kakamega, Kenya" and it got here in less than a week. She is currently my hero.
Project Pads for Progress is underway and I am very excited to be going back to the Imara Tailoring School today to present the pad samples (thanks to Elizabeth Meeks and Humanicare) and patterns for our pad-making workshops that will be starting on Thursday. We will also be having our small business workshop on Friday for the seamstresses at Imara and then production starts Monday. It is all happening so fast! I never would have guessed that I would be working with feminine sanitary products in Kenya...
Pads for Progress has also recieved a huge amount of support from various people in the Kakamega community and I cannot tell you how much their time and effort has touched me and made this project that much more possible and exciting. I find out if I get the grant from the FSD today or tomorrow so my fingers are crossed!
In unrelated news: I was out running the other day and was asked to tryout for a soccer team (I have not played soccer since eighth grade). Of course I attended the tryouts thinking that they would not be that difficult since it was the only girls team (of any sport) in the disrict and the girls did not even wear shoes. Let's just say, I was wrong. The girls were amazing and I provided endless comic releif for them during the two and a half hour tryout. One girl was even an Olympic medalist from Bei Jing in gymnastics and claimed to be playing soccer because it was the only sport she could play in the area as a girl and that it was the only way she could stay in shape for gymnastics. A little bit intimidating? I am not sure if I made the team (the coach did not speak English) but he told me to come back this week. I am about 90% sure I was asked back simply because my skill level entertained the girls so much (including my attempt at a header- not pretty) and because they wanted to say they had a myzungu (white person) on their team. I was by far the worst one at the tryouts and probably made a fool of not only myself but my country. However, the girls were absolutely amazing and so much fun and I had a great time. When in Kenya. Lesson learned: not wearing shoes does not equal not good at soccer.
Project Pads for Progress is underway and I am very excited to be going back to the Imara Tailoring School today to present the pad samples (thanks to Elizabeth Meeks and Humanicare) and patterns for our pad-making workshops that will be starting on Thursday. We will also be having our small business workshop on Friday for the seamstresses at Imara and then production starts Monday. It is all happening so fast! I never would have guessed that I would be working with feminine sanitary products in Kenya...
Pads for Progress has also recieved a huge amount of support from various people in the Kakamega community and I cannot tell you how much their time and effort has touched me and made this project that much more possible and exciting. I find out if I get the grant from the FSD today or tomorrow so my fingers are crossed!
In unrelated news: I was out running the other day and was asked to tryout for a soccer team (I have not played soccer since eighth grade). Of course I attended the tryouts thinking that they would not be that difficult since it was the only girls team (of any sport) in the disrict and the girls did not even wear shoes. Let's just say, I was wrong. The girls were amazing and I provided endless comic releif for them during the two and a half hour tryout. One girl was even an Olympic medalist from Bei Jing in gymnastics and claimed to be playing soccer because it was the only sport she could play in the area as a girl and that it was the only way she could stay in shape for gymnastics. A little bit intimidating? I am not sure if I made the team (the coach did not speak English) but he told me to come back this week. I am about 90% sure I was asked back simply because my skill level entertained the girls so much (including my attempt at a header- not pretty) and because they wanted to say they had a myzungu (white person) on their team. I was by far the worst one at the tryouts and probably made a fool of not only myself but my country. However, the girls were absolutely amazing and so much fun and I had a great time. When in Kenya. Lesson learned: not wearing shoes does not equal not good at soccer.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
A Few Pics
Teaching the women to do some exercises last Saturday. 
All of the FSD summer interns from Duke during Orientation.
Four girls (out of about 50) whose nails I paint on a weekly basis. I somehow am the town nail salon.
My little sister Grace (1) and I playing outside last week.
My newest bedmate (along with his three friends).
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Highlights So Far This Week
1. A started working on my grant due Friday which is very tedious by also very exciting... Even if I don't get the money, everyone keeps saying it is a very "rewarding" experience. The only reward I want after writing eight pages single-spaced is the actual grant! I'm keeping my fingers crossed!
2. I woke up last night to what I thought was two mice chasing each other under my bed. It turned out to be two lizards the size of my head chasing three cockroaches. I finally turned on the lights when I heard a crunch about a foot from my face as one of the lizards bit off the head of one of the cockroaches. I screamed jumping up and down on my bed until Mama Mary came running in to save me butt naked. I am now double scarred for life and cannot sleep with the lights out.
3. A young man followed me home from work yesterday engaging in petty conversation ubtil the end of the walk when he asked me to go out with him on Friday night to try cow piss (a delicacy?). There's no way to be sure.
4. I have malaria. However, its not as dramatic as you might think. I've just been really groggy and flu-like. I also keep having flash backs to the computer game Oregon Trail from when I was in elementary school. Every five minutes the game would be like beep beep beep "Genevieve has fallen ill with malaria and you must delay your trip three days."
5. We have what I call a "chicky door" which is similar to a doggie door except for chickens. My host family owns about fifty chickens which come and go freely in the house through the chicky door and always sleep in the house (yes... It takes some getting used to). Well my little one-year old sister Grace likes to play with the chickens and she's just big enough to fit through the chicky door. Well the other night I thought one of the chickens was trying to come in for the night through the little door and in a fit of rage (the wake me up at five fifteen every mornong along with the new born baby who then cries until eight - not a fan of the chickens) I locked the chicky door. It was my little sister Grace. Not good.
2. I woke up last night to what I thought was two mice chasing each other under my bed. It turned out to be two lizards the size of my head chasing three cockroaches. I finally turned on the lights when I heard a crunch about a foot from my face as one of the lizards bit off the head of one of the cockroaches. I screamed jumping up and down on my bed until Mama Mary came running in to save me butt naked. I am now double scarred for life and cannot sleep with the lights out.
3. A young man followed me home from work yesterday engaging in petty conversation ubtil the end of the walk when he asked me to go out with him on Friday night to try cow piss (a delicacy?). There's no way to be sure.
4. I have malaria. However, its not as dramatic as you might think. I've just been really groggy and flu-like. I also keep having flash backs to the computer game Oregon Trail from when I was in elementary school. Every five minutes the game would be like beep beep beep "Genevieve has fallen ill with malaria and you must delay your trip three days."
5. We have what I call a "chicky door" which is similar to a doggie door except for chickens. My host family owns about fifty chickens which come and go freely in the house through the chicky door and always sleep in the house (yes... It takes some getting used to). Well my little one-year old sister Grace likes to play with the chickens and she's just big enough to fit through the chicky door. Well the other night I thought one of the chickens was trying to come in for the night through the little door and in a fit of rage (the wake me up at five fifteen every mornong along with the new born baby who then cries until eight - not a fan of the chickens) I locked the chicky door. It was my little sister Grace. Not good.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Blow-out
It's incredible how this trip has had both its high highs and low lows, sometimes within the same day. Today has turned out to be one of those days.
Within hours of my triumphant egg toss competition where I finally felt accepted by the Kenyan people in spite of my exposed legs, blonde hair, and white skin, I felt as if I were a three-legged circus freak in the eyes of these people.
I had just taken a bucket shower (you get one bucket of boiling water and a bucket of freezing water and you mix them together in a third bucket until your desired temperature and then you are given a cup to use to pour the water over your body while standing on a floor with a drain) when my Mama Mary asked me what I usually do with my hair at home. I told her how I usually liked to dry my hair with a blow dryer at home and she quickly told me of a place near our home where they could blow my hair out for me. I was soooo excited. "I can get a blow-out in Kenya? What a day this is turning out to be!" I thought to myself.
Mama Mary had the house girl take me to the "salon" which was a room made out of cow dung with some mirrors, plastic chairs, and a poster depicting the different African weaves you could get. Tempting... I thought.
I sat down in the chair and complimented the lady about to do my hair on the work she had done on her last customer. She started laughing uncontrollably along with everyone else in the room including the house girl so I started laughing too. She started drying my hair and applying wax like products which terrified me but I tried to remain calm and not question the lady so as to be culturally sensitive and not offend anyone.
Soon people from the surrounding shops started to come in to watch the lady doing my hair. They were all talking in Swahili and laughing and pointing at me while I sat there having grease embedded into my scalp. I looked to the house girl for support but she was laughing with them. I finally asked why they were all laughing so hard and they laughed even more.
One lady in the chair next to me then controlled herself enough to ask, "don't you want them to dye your hair black so it is not so light and disgusting?" she then started pointing at my skin and laughing even more. The whole place was out of control with laughter including the house girl and the lady doing my hair had to put down her brush she was laughing so hard. Even the spectators who had come in to observe where all the raucous was coming from began pointing at me and doubling over. Nobody stopped even when I started tearing up.
Finally I could take no more. I stood up and placed the fee on the counter and in the sternest voice I could manage said, "Thanks. And just so you know, nobody appreciates being laughed at".
I stormed out as fast as I could looking like Rizzo from Greasr as they continued howling. No amount of baby powder could save my hair now. The house girl tried to keep up with me while chuckling, "they were just happy to see you!"
"I'm not stupid," I told her as I made a point of walking too fast for her and going directly to my room when I got home. She could explain what happened to Mama Mary.
When I got to my room I cried for the first time in Kenya. Here I was taking time out of my summer to work at an NGO benefiting their community and all these people could do was make fun of me when I'm sitting right there and point at my skin and hair as if they were the most atrocious thing on the planet. I was not prepared for this. After feeling on top of the world that morning I now felt like such an outsider and so unwelcomed. I had been so polite and nice to these people and this was how they treated me?
As someone who, naïve as it may seem, genuinely believes that human beings are naturally good, this act of outright cruelty shocked as much as it hurt me. As an American, I feel that the evil of racism is something that was naturally ingrained into me for as far back as I could remember. I have traveled to Europe, Asia, and South America and never once have I judged the people around me. Suddenly I realized, maybe that was it. These people have never even left Kenya let alone Africa. Most of them have never even seen a white person before. My own host father had never heard of New York City. These people had no idea what it felt to feel like an outsider and so that was why they had treated me as they had. Yes... This makes sense. I had finally learned the true value od traveling.
But wait, isn't tribalism a huge part of Kenyan culture? Isn't it the Kenyan government that is currently being ruled by a coalition government with the prime minister from one tribe and the president from another so as to not lead to an ethnic war? Hm... Racism is clearly something very familiar to these people. It is a huge part of the Kenyan identity and also what has lead to their inability to progress with the rest of the world. Their government will not be able to function until the people are able to overcome their ethnic ethocentricism and agree to work together as one country towards common goals.
I suddenly felt sorry for the ladies at the salon. Racism is not only an ugly thing, but also a very unproductive way to go through life. These people weren't ignorant, as I had previously thought. It wasn't there lack of travel and diversity that had lead them to act in such a way. It was simply all they knew.
I thought back to the shop made of cow dung and how none of the ladies had been wearing shoes. I thought of the meager fifty-cent equivalent schillings I had payed the lady and suddenly it all seemed so clear. Their racism was simply a classic result of the conflict between the haves and the have-nots. If the have-nots gang up upon the haves and focus their attention on one of the stand-out features among the haves, such as my hair and skin, they finally feel a sense of triumph in having something the haves do not.
These ladies must have seen me walking in, and in their immediate desire to poses something that I did not, decided to gang up against me and single me out for the color of my body. What a sad way to go through life.
Luckily, as seen earlier today if you read my previous post, not all people in Kenya are like this, but I truly feel sorry for those who are. I saw both ends of the spectrum today and both were very surprising. I still chose to believe in the good in people and I can't help but imagine that those ladies from the salon, when they finally make their way home alone, will genuinely feel bad for the way they treated me... But maybe that's just me.
In unrelated news : no headway on the Kenyan bathroom mystery. Please email me your ideas. There are sixteen people in my house and no one has entered the latrine all day... Troubling.
Within hours of my triumphant egg toss competition where I finally felt accepted by the Kenyan people in spite of my exposed legs, blonde hair, and white skin, I felt as if I were a three-legged circus freak in the eyes of these people.
I had just taken a bucket shower (you get one bucket of boiling water and a bucket of freezing water and you mix them together in a third bucket until your desired temperature and then you are given a cup to use to pour the water over your body while standing on a floor with a drain) when my Mama Mary asked me what I usually do with my hair at home. I told her how I usually liked to dry my hair with a blow dryer at home and she quickly told me of a place near our home where they could blow my hair out for me. I was soooo excited. "I can get a blow-out in Kenya? What a day this is turning out to be!" I thought to myself.
Mama Mary had the house girl take me to the "salon" which was a room made out of cow dung with some mirrors, plastic chairs, and a poster depicting the different African weaves you could get. Tempting... I thought.
I sat down in the chair and complimented the lady about to do my hair on the work she had done on her last customer. She started laughing uncontrollably along with everyone else in the room including the house girl so I started laughing too. She started drying my hair and applying wax like products which terrified me but I tried to remain calm and not question the lady so as to be culturally sensitive and not offend anyone.
Soon people from the surrounding shops started to come in to watch the lady doing my hair. They were all talking in Swahili and laughing and pointing at me while I sat there having grease embedded into my scalp. I looked to the house girl for support but she was laughing with them. I finally asked why they were all laughing so hard and they laughed even more.
One lady in the chair next to me then controlled herself enough to ask, "don't you want them to dye your hair black so it is not so light and disgusting?" she then started pointing at my skin and laughing even more. The whole place was out of control with laughter including the house girl and the lady doing my hair had to put down her brush she was laughing so hard. Even the spectators who had come in to observe where all the raucous was coming from began pointing at me and doubling over. Nobody stopped even when I started tearing up.
Finally I could take no more. I stood up and placed the fee on the counter and in the sternest voice I could manage said, "Thanks. And just so you know, nobody appreciates being laughed at".
I stormed out as fast as I could looking like Rizzo from Greasr as they continued howling. No amount of baby powder could save my hair now. The house girl tried to keep up with me while chuckling, "they were just happy to see you!"
"I'm not stupid," I told her as I made a point of walking too fast for her and going directly to my room when I got home. She could explain what happened to Mama Mary.
When I got to my room I cried for the first time in Kenya. Here I was taking time out of my summer to work at an NGO benefiting their community and all these people could do was make fun of me when I'm sitting right there and point at my skin and hair as if they were the most atrocious thing on the planet. I was not prepared for this. After feeling on top of the world that morning I now felt like such an outsider and so unwelcomed. I had been so polite and nice to these people and this was how they treated me?
As someone who, naïve as it may seem, genuinely believes that human beings are naturally good, this act of outright cruelty shocked as much as it hurt me. As an American, I feel that the evil of racism is something that was naturally ingrained into me for as far back as I could remember. I have traveled to Europe, Asia, and South America and never once have I judged the people around me. Suddenly I realized, maybe that was it. These people have never even left Kenya let alone Africa. Most of them have never even seen a white person before. My own host father had never heard of New York City. These people had no idea what it felt to feel like an outsider and so that was why they had treated me as they had. Yes... This makes sense. I had finally learned the true value od traveling.
But wait, isn't tribalism a huge part of Kenyan culture? Isn't it the Kenyan government that is currently being ruled by a coalition government with the prime minister from one tribe and the president from another so as to not lead to an ethnic war? Hm... Racism is clearly something very familiar to these people. It is a huge part of the Kenyan identity and also what has lead to their inability to progress with the rest of the world. Their government will not be able to function until the people are able to overcome their ethnic ethocentricism and agree to work together as one country towards common goals.
I suddenly felt sorry for the ladies at the salon. Racism is not only an ugly thing, but also a very unproductive way to go through life. These people weren't ignorant, as I had previously thought. It wasn't there lack of travel and diversity that had lead them to act in such a way. It was simply all they knew.
I thought back to the shop made of cow dung and how none of the ladies had been wearing shoes. I thought of the meager fifty-cent equivalent schillings I had payed the lady and suddenly it all seemed so clear. Their racism was simply a classic result of the conflict between the haves and the have-nots. If the have-nots gang up upon the haves and focus their attention on one of the stand-out features among the haves, such as my hair and skin, they finally feel a sense of triumph in having something the haves do not.
These ladies must have seen me walking in, and in their immediate desire to poses something that I did not, decided to gang up against me and single me out for the color of my body. What a sad way to go through life.
Luckily, as seen earlier today if you read my previous post, not all people in Kenya are like this, but I truly feel sorry for those who are. I saw both ends of the spectrum today and both were very surprising. I still chose to believe in the good in people and I can't help but imagine that those ladies from the salon, when they finally make their way home alone, will genuinely feel bad for the way they treated me... But maybe that's just me.
In unrelated news : no headway on the Kenyan bathroom mystery. Please email me your ideas. There are sixteen people in my house and no one has entered the latrine all day... Troubling.
Victory
Sundays are my favorite days in Kakamega. The entire town shuts down so that everyone and I mean EVERYONE can go to church. The streets are full of entire families walking together and the bright colors of traditional African fabrics as everyone struts around in their Sunday bests.
This Sunday however I woke up feeling slightly depressed and homesick as I knew I was missing my little sister's graduation and my boyfriend's twenty-first birthday. Wishing I could be there and feeling sorry for myself that I couldn't, I decided it was time to do something "rebellious." Pulling out a pair of shorts that had yet to be touched during my trip, I slipped them on under my floor length traditional skirt. I grabbed my IPod and headed out of the house and onto about a five mile walk to a park I had heard about.
Once at the "park," which was really just a patch of grass in between two cornfields where only two herdsmen who grazing their cows, I removed my skirt and began to run along a narrow dirt path. After three weeks of being unable to show my legs, let alone go running (women in Africa DO NOT exercise), I felt AMAZING. I ran until I felt as if I could not move anymore and then I settled down on the grass to do an ab workout that my coach at Duke had given to all the swimmers for the summer. Soon a group of women who had clearly just gotten out of church began to congregate on the field with their children. I was aware of them all staring at my bare legs and my seemingly bizarre movements as I struggled with my workout. Finally one woman came up to me and just said "teach me."
Immediately I began to do squats and leg lifts with this lady, Nancy, until about fifteen or so of her friends shyly joined in, laughing when we all fell down during push ups. Eventually someone tapped me on the shoulder again. This time it was a man and he asked if I would like to join their field day. "Um... are you kidding? YES!" I saw this as the moment of cultural acceptance that I had been waiting for for the past three weeks. I joined the fifty or so men and we were soon divided into two teams. I tried to encourage some of the women to play but they all laughed and said it was only for men. People started gathering around the field to watch the events and I was placed on Team Obama. Great.
As much fun as I was having in the potato sack race, and 50 meter dash (I didn't dare touch the potato balancing contest... I mean these people can balance a sack of fifty ears of corn on their heads at the same time as carrying two children into to town... I couldn't touch them when it came to balance), my moment came during the egg toss. I was placed as the representative for Team Obama in the egg toss. I have never been so nervous in my life, but I was in my element. I could hardly believe it when the egg finally broke in my hands and I looked around and we were the last team standing. My team surrounded me and lifted me up on their shoulders screaming "Myzungu myzungu" (white person white person) and patting my back. I was finally living the dream. I looked around at the spectators and saw the women going "a girl? a girl!" They were so shocked and proud that the only girl in the competition had won and they shared equally in my victory. That was the best moment I have had yet in Africa; I was just so proud and happy to be accepted. A group of women gave me some leaves to wash the egg off my hands (there is a good chance I will getting Salmonella) which I quickly used not thinking twice about what kind of leaves they were. After a week of Poison Ivy on my face, I now have Poison Ivy all over my fingers... but it was worth it. I am meeting them again next Sunday for a soccer competition... should be interesting.
In addition to my success on the field I have also had a very interesting week. I completed my work plan for my time at ACCES and have begun a very exciting project. While I was sick and confined to my bed and malaria net, I read an article about re-usable pads for girls. I quickly thought back to the fact that many girls in Kenya were not attending school for one week every month during the time that they had their periods because they could not afford and sanitary products. The ACCES centers are currently spending half of our Health budget in providing each girls with 10 disposable pads a year which are hardly sufficient to last them through the whole year and so many girls are forced to miss school during their periods still. This puts girls at a huge disadvantage academically in an environment where your grade point average and testing abilities play a major role in your future and whether or not you can get a scholarship for high school. I remembered that ACCES also supported a group of students at a tailoring school and wondering if we could link our microfinance initiative with the students at that school and help them to produce re-usable pads for our students in a pilot run to see if it worked. Then, if the pilot run is successfully, we can produce more pads and advertise them to the multitude of NGO's based in Kakamega and surrounding towns who also work with schools for disadvantaged youth who are undoubtedly running into the same budget restraints as ACCES when it comes to supplying disposable sanitary pads to their girls. This could open a whole new market for Kakamega and at the same time give girls the opportunity to stay in school and keep their grades up in order to compete more with the boys for highschool scholarships. ACCES loves the idea and after a week of giving out surveys to the girls at some of our nine centers I have found that the girls are really excited about the idea. I am doing a presentation at the tailoring school tomorrow in order to find girls to work on the project and will be conducting interviews after that in order to assure that we have the most capable and diligent girls on board the project. Hopefully this will go well and then I will spend the rest of next week writing an extensive grant to the Foundation for Sustainable Development for the funds to make this project a reality. I will also be starting a private fundraising campaign shortly in order to assure the sustainability of this project. In addition to the teaching the girls from the tailoring school how to make the pads, we will also be offering them small-business start-up classes which will help them to expand their business and also keep the project sustainable. I am very excited to see how much I can accomplish in the next six weeks and leave my mark on Kakamega!
On top of the research I have been doing for my reusable pad project, I have also taken to heart another study. I have noticed in my time here that Kenyans do not go to the bathroom. While I realize that "bathrooms" are limited and even the "luxurious" pit latrines are hard to come by, I cannot understand how people literally NEVER go to the bathroom. At the ACCES office I sit across from the bathroom. In the past three days not one person in the office has used the bathroom. At my two bedroom home that on any given night can hold anywhere from 9 to 16 people, in the past three days NOT ONE PERSON HAS USED THE BATHROOM. My room is right next to the only bathroom in the house and I have been painstakingly listening and waiting to hear someone going into the bathroom for three days and NOTHING. What does this mean? Where are people going to the bathroom? Are they even going to the bathroom? Is that even healthy? On top of supplying reusable pads to the girls of Kakemega, I am determined to find the answer to this bathroom mystery in the next six weeks. If anyone has any ideas... please let me know.
This Sunday however I woke up feeling slightly depressed and homesick as I knew I was missing my little sister's graduation and my boyfriend's twenty-first birthday. Wishing I could be there and feeling sorry for myself that I couldn't, I decided it was time to do something "rebellious." Pulling out a pair of shorts that had yet to be touched during my trip, I slipped them on under my floor length traditional skirt. I grabbed my IPod and headed out of the house and onto about a five mile walk to a park I had heard about.
Once at the "park," which was really just a patch of grass in between two cornfields where only two herdsmen who grazing their cows, I removed my skirt and began to run along a narrow dirt path. After three weeks of being unable to show my legs, let alone go running (women in Africa DO NOT exercise), I felt AMAZING. I ran until I felt as if I could not move anymore and then I settled down on the grass to do an ab workout that my coach at Duke had given to all the swimmers for the summer. Soon a group of women who had clearly just gotten out of church began to congregate on the field with their children. I was aware of them all staring at my bare legs and my seemingly bizarre movements as I struggled with my workout. Finally one woman came up to me and just said "teach me."
Immediately I began to do squats and leg lifts with this lady, Nancy, until about fifteen or so of her friends shyly joined in, laughing when we all fell down during push ups. Eventually someone tapped me on the shoulder again. This time it was a man and he asked if I would like to join their field day. "Um... are you kidding? YES!" I saw this as the moment of cultural acceptance that I had been waiting for for the past three weeks. I joined the fifty or so men and we were soon divided into two teams. I tried to encourage some of the women to play but they all laughed and said it was only for men. People started gathering around the field to watch the events and I was placed on Team Obama. Great.
As much fun as I was having in the potato sack race, and 50 meter dash (I didn't dare touch the potato balancing contest... I mean these people can balance a sack of fifty ears of corn on their heads at the same time as carrying two children into to town... I couldn't touch them when it came to balance), my moment came during the egg toss. I was placed as the representative for Team Obama in the egg toss. I have never been so nervous in my life, but I was in my element. I could hardly believe it when the egg finally broke in my hands and I looked around and we were the last team standing. My team surrounded me and lifted me up on their shoulders screaming "Myzungu myzungu" (white person white person) and patting my back. I was finally living the dream. I looked around at the spectators and saw the women going "a girl? a girl!" They were so shocked and proud that the only girl in the competition had won and they shared equally in my victory. That was the best moment I have had yet in Africa; I was just so proud and happy to be accepted. A group of women gave me some leaves to wash the egg off my hands (there is a good chance I will getting Salmonella) which I quickly used not thinking twice about what kind of leaves they were. After a week of Poison Ivy on my face, I now have Poison Ivy all over my fingers... but it was worth it. I am meeting them again next Sunday for a soccer competition... should be interesting.
In addition to my success on the field I have also had a very interesting week. I completed my work plan for my time at ACCES and have begun a very exciting project. While I was sick and confined to my bed and malaria net, I read an article about re-usable pads for girls. I quickly thought back to the fact that many girls in Kenya were not attending school for one week every month during the time that they had their periods because they could not afford and sanitary products. The ACCES centers are currently spending half of our Health budget in providing each girls with 10 disposable pads a year which are hardly sufficient to last them through the whole year and so many girls are forced to miss school during their periods still. This puts girls at a huge disadvantage academically in an environment where your grade point average and testing abilities play a major role in your future and whether or not you can get a scholarship for high school. I remembered that ACCES also supported a group of students at a tailoring school and wondering if we could link our microfinance initiative with the students at that school and help them to produce re-usable pads for our students in a pilot run to see if it worked. Then, if the pilot run is successfully, we can produce more pads and advertise them to the multitude of NGO's based in Kakamega and surrounding towns who also work with schools for disadvantaged youth who are undoubtedly running into the same budget restraints as ACCES when it comes to supplying disposable sanitary pads to their girls. This could open a whole new market for Kakamega and at the same time give girls the opportunity to stay in school and keep their grades up in order to compete more with the boys for highschool scholarships. ACCES loves the idea and after a week of giving out surveys to the girls at some of our nine centers I have found that the girls are really excited about the idea. I am doing a presentation at the tailoring school tomorrow in order to find girls to work on the project and will be conducting interviews after that in order to assure that we have the most capable and diligent girls on board the project. Hopefully this will go well and then I will spend the rest of next week writing an extensive grant to the Foundation for Sustainable Development for the funds to make this project a reality. I will also be starting a private fundraising campaign shortly in order to assure the sustainability of this project. In addition to the teaching the girls from the tailoring school how to make the pads, we will also be offering them small-business start-up classes which will help them to expand their business and also keep the project sustainable. I am very excited to see how much I can accomplish in the next six weeks and leave my mark on Kakamega!
On top of the research I have been doing for my reusable pad project, I have also taken to heart another study. I have noticed in my time here that Kenyans do not go to the bathroom. While I realize that "bathrooms" are limited and even the "luxurious" pit latrines are hard to come by, I cannot understand how people literally NEVER go to the bathroom. At the ACCES office I sit across from the bathroom. In the past three days not one person in the office has used the bathroom. At my two bedroom home that on any given night can hold anywhere from 9 to 16 people, in the past three days NOT ONE PERSON HAS USED THE BATHROOM. My room is right next to the only bathroom in the house and I have been painstakingly listening and waiting to hear someone going into the bathroom for three days and NOTHING. What does this mean? Where are people going to the bathroom? Are they even going to the bathroom? Is that even healthy? On top of supplying reusable pads to the girls of Kakemega, I am determined to find the answer to this bathroom mystery in the next six weeks. If anyone has any ideas... please let me know.
Monday, June 1, 2009
ACCESS and Lessons in Kenyan Karma
Kenya Day 16:
After sixteen days of living in working in Kenya I have finally forced myself to begin blogging. The first sixteen days have been both eye-opening and inspiring in so many ways. I quickly learned the stark differences in Kenyan and American culture by pushing myself out into the community and trying to communicate with the villagers in my minimal Kiswahili.
I have been working at ACCESS which is a Canadian NGO in Kakamega that basically runs nine nonformal schools in Kenya for students who might not otherwise have been able to attend school due to the fact that they are either orphaned, homeless, sick, or simply destitute. ACCESS also provides secondary school scholarships to the top students on each of its centers along with healthcare and gender equality-based education. In addition to these services ACCESS also supports a microloan fund that supports its students in small business start-ups not only by means of the loan itself but also by running vocational education workshops and supporting the students in finding outside vocational training. This organization's approach to sustainable development by supporting education and small business plans in the hopes of creating a more competent and fulfilled generation is certainly a seemingly effective way to tackle the issues of poverty, health, gender discrimination, and education in Kenya and a model for the third world in general. However, as inspired as I have been by ACCESS, this organization has simultaneously pointed out both the positives and negatives of the Kenyan government.
While the Kenyan government supports its people by providing healthcare for everyone including free treatments for AIDS and malaria which seems great, a lot of their intentions seem ineffective and almost halfhearted. For example, Kenya has made all primary schooling free for all of their citizens in the past couple of years in order to help achieve the UN Millennium Goals. However, while upholding this goal and achieving global acclaim, it must be noted that the government is only providing free schooling; the parents must still pay for books, food, and the ever-pricey uniforms that many families simply cannot afford. Because of these costs, groups like ACCESS are forced to exist.
As interesting as witnessing the effects of Kenyan politics has been, what has been even more intriguing is realizing the culture that has promoted these politics. Kenyan culture is the direct product of extreme social divisions along tribal lines. Citizens will vote for members of their own tribes to hold public offices. Therefore each election is a competition between candidates to gain as many tribes as possible and turn them against the opposing tribes who often differ not only in geographic regions but also in specific ethnicity. What is even more interesting is that the older generations of Kenyans are the ones who are now more likely to vote for a candidate from an opposing tribe out of a frustration stemming from the lack of progress in Kenyan society and a lack of change in political power. However the youth generation, who one might expect to be more progressive and more accepting, are the ones most likely to only vote for members of their own tribe. Clearly the progress that Kenya needs to elect a new wave of government officials who will enact greatly needed social reforms is moving in the opposite generational direction.
Along with the cultural effects of tribalism, I have also borne first person witness to the societal effects of a culture based on honor. About four days ago I began to feel very sick. Obviously believing in my hypochondriac-prone mind that I was a victim of malaria, I set out to the local doctor who has been acclaimed "the best doctor in Kakamega." The last thing I remember is walking in the door to the office. The next thing I knew I was waking up with a throbbing headache in an African hospital bed with my pants pulled down and "the best doctor in Kakamega" about to insert what looked like a ten inch needle into my left butt cheek. Obviously I screamed bloody murder. Amidst my attempts to knock the doctor and quickly amassing nurses out, the doctor reluctantly reshielded hid weapon and tried to calm me down. He explained to me that I had fainted and hit my head and they had been unable to wake me up for ten minutes so he needed to inject me with a hydrocortizone shot. My mind immediately racing back to my ninth grade health and AIDS education, I told him that I would need to see him open a new needle and sterilize it in front of me first. Apparently this was a huge insult to "the best doctor in Kakamega" who abruptly let me know of "my mistake" by listing his medical credentials and family affiliations and bloodline along with reprimanding me for my "rude and typical American skepticism." Seeing that we had gotten off to a bad start, I decided to leave with the doctor still lecturing me and get my malaria test at a local hospital. I had put my own health above the honor the honor of the doctor, and in Kenya that is not how things are done. My natural skepticism of African medicine and inclination towards my own safety had greatly wounded the honor of the doctor.
Well it turns out I only had a stomach virus and not the dreaded malaria, but Kenya had its own punishment in store for my "rude American ways." Not only did I have to listen to the demeaning lecture and rants of "the best doctor in Kakamega" for basically twenty minutes while gathering the strength and courage to leave, the next morning I woke up with poison ivy all over my face. Little children literally shyed away from the natural disaster that was my face. Who knew that mangos in Kenya are grown next to poison ivy? Was this a lesson in Kenyan karma? There is no way to be sure.
* sorry for typos and formatting ; I am doing most of this blogging via blackberry due to lack of internet and computers and my obvious lack of desire to leave my house recently due to my facial condition
After sixteen days of living in working in Kenya I have finally forced myself to begin blogging. The first sixteen days have been both eye-opening and inspiring in so many ways. I quickly learned the stark differences in Kenyan and American culture by pushing myself out into the community and trying to communicate with the villagers in my minimal Kiswahili.
I have been working at ACCESS which is a Canadian NGO in Kakamega that basically runs nine nonformal schools in Kenya for students who might not otherwise have been able to attend school due to the fact that they are either orphaned, homeless, sick, or simply destitute. ACCESS also provides secondary school scholarships to the top students on each of its centers along with healthcare and gender equality-based education. In addition to these services ACCESS also supports a microloan fund that supports its students in small business start-ups not only by means of the loan itself but also by running vocational education workshops and supporting the students in finding outside vocational training. This organization's approach to sustainable development by supporting education and small business plans in the hopes of creating a more competent and fulfilled generation is certainly a seemingly effective way to tackle the issues of poverty, health, gender discrimination, and education in Kenya and a model for the third world in general. However, as inspired as I have been by ACCESS, this organization has simultaneously pointed out both the positives and negatives of the Kenyan government.
While the Kenyan government supports its people by providing healthcare for everyone including free treatments for AIDS and malaria which seems great, a lot of their intentions seem ineffective and almost halfhearted. For example, Kenya has made all primary schooling free for all of their citizens in the past couple of years in order to help achieve the UN Millennium Goals. However, while upholding this goal and achieving global acclaim, it must be noted that the government is only providing free schooling; the parents must still pay for books, food, and the ever-pricey uniforms that many families simply cannot afford. Because of these costs, groups like ACCESS are forced to exist.
As interesting as witnessing the effects of Kenyan politics has been, what has been even more intriguing is realizing the culture that has promoted these politics. Kenyan culture is the direct product of extreme social divisions along tribal lines. Citizens will vote for members of their own tribes to hold public offices. Therefore each election is a competition between candidates to gain as many tribes as possible and turn them against the opposing tribes who often differ not only in geographic regions but also in specific ethnicity. What is even more interesting is that the older generations of Kenyans are the ones who are now more likely to vote for a candidate from an opposing tribe out of a frustration stemming from the lack of progress in Kenyan society and a lack of change in political power. However the youth generation, who one might expect to be more progressive and more accepting, are the ones most likely to only vote for members of their own tribe. Clearly the progress that Kenya needs to elect a new wave of government officials who will enact greatly needed social reforms is moving in the opposite generational direction.
Along with the cultural effects of tribalism, I have also borne first person witness to the societal effects of a culture based on honor. About four days ago I began to feel very sick. Obviously believing in my hypochondriac-prone mind that I was a victim of malaria, I set out to the local doctor who has been acclaimed "the best doctor in Kakamega." The last thing I remember is walking in the door to the office. The next thing I knew I was waking up with a throbbing headache in an African hospital bed with my pants pulled down and "the best doctor in Kakamega" about to insert what looked like a ten inch needle into my left butt cheek. Obviously I screamed bloody murder. Amidst my attempts to knock the doctor and quickly amassing nurses out, the doctor reluctantly reshielded hid weapon and tried to calm me down. He explained to me that I had fainted and hit my head and they had been unable to wake me up for ten minutes so he needed to inject me with a hydrocortizone shot. My mind immediately racing back to my ninth grade health and AIDS education, I told him that I would need to see him open a new needle and sterilize it in front of me first. Apparently this was a huge insult to "the best doctor in Kakamega" who abruptly let me know of "my mistake" by listing his medical credentials and family affiliations and bloodline along with reprimanding me for my "rude and typical American skepticism." Seeing that we had gotten off to a bad start, I decided to leave with the doctor still lecturing me and get my malaria test at a local hospital. I had put my own health above the honor the honor of the doctor, and in Kenya that is not how things are done. My natural skepticism of African medicine and inclination towards my own safety had greatly wounded the honor of the doctor.
Well it turns out I only had a stomach virus and not the dreaded malaria, but Kenya had its own punishment in store for my "rude American ways." Not only did I have to listen to the demeaning lecture and rants of "the best doctor in Kakamega" for basically twenty minutes while gathering the strength and courage to leave, the next morning I woke up with poison ivy all over my face. Little children literally shyed away from the natural disaster that was my face. Who knew that mangos in Kenya are grown next to poison ivy? Was this a lesson in Kenyan karma? There is no way to be sure.
* sorry for typos and formatting ; I am doing most of this blogging via blackberry due to lack of internet and computers and my obvious lack of desire to leave my house recently due to my facial condition
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