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Post by title1parent on Jul 12, 2010 21:18:00 GMT -5
That is why I suggested some of the service organizations through the schools might be a better fit. They could run a service project to collect/ solicit donations [from families and businesses] to send to the school and they could also begin a relationship with the Kenyan students.
Just a thought in the direction you were suggesting.
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Post by title1parent on Jul 20, 2010 8:19:49 GMT -5
www.dailyherald.com/story/?id=394653&src=76Welcome wake-up call in Kabula, Kenya By Melissa Bachler | Special to the Daily Herald 7/20/10 The most common phrase spoken to us Myzungos (white people) in Kenya is, "How are you?" Well, after being here for over a week, I can answer that question honestly: I am uneasy. One U.S. dollar is equivalent to about 80 Kenyan shillings. The average Kenyan earns 100 Ksh a day. The average breakfast from a restaurant is about 200 Ksh - so a little over $3 for eggs, toast and sausage. Last weekend, we went to Kisumu to see another part of Kenya and experience more Kenyan culture. We treated ourselves to a 400 Ksh breakfast (a buffet of all-you-can-eat eggs, toast, sausage and tea) and after walking out of the restaurant, I've decided to change my attitude toward money. With our tummies full (and many of our wallets looking similar - at least by Kenyan standards), we left the restaurant to walk around and see some culture. I may have bitten off more than I could chew. It is hard to spend a Kenyan's weekly salary on one breakfast and walk out to see children in used U.S. clothing from the '90s with broken sandals and dirty feet. The immediate gut reaction is guilt. I'm guilty of gluttony; I am guilty of greed; I am guilty of gorging. It is hard to have the comfort of money and look forward, backward, left and right and see people with so little. So there is this part of me that feels ashamed. I walked out of the restaurant thinking, "Wow! All of that for only four dollars?!? What a steal!" Then you see these children with so little and you don't feel so lucky. You just feel ashamed for being so unaware. It's a harsh reality, a slap in the face, but at the same time, it is a welcome wake-up call. One reason I brought myself to Kenya was to help those less fortunate (although, we might be the only ones who feel Kenyans are less fortunate because they are honestly so happy and welcoming here that it is salt in my fresh "I-need-to-watch-my-money-spending" open wound). Because I come from a place with "so much more," I can't help but think that they don't know what they are missing, and I am not sure if it would be good if they did know what they were missing. In many ways, they are unaware of our position and we are unaware of theirs. I'm not sure which viewpoint is better.
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Post by asmodeus on Jul 20, 2010 18:21:26 GMT -5
Doesn't make sense...these restaurants should have very few customers if they are charging USA-type prices for breakfast when the locals earn about $1 per day.
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Post by title1parent on Jul 27, 2010 9:27:07 GMT -5
www.dailyherald.com/story/?id=396079&src=76Life in Kenya not difficult, but different By Melissa Bachler | Special to the Daily Herald 7/26/10 So, maybe I have become used to long drops (Kenyan toilets), maybe I have become used to not having running water for a shower, maybe I have become used to DEET saturating my skin 24/7, but I am finding that things here aren't that difficult - just different. The food, the language, the transportation, the culture - different, not extremely difficult, just different. And embracing the different - rather than going against - has proved invaluable. Embracing isn't just a lesson for Kenya or a lesson for traveling, it is a lesson for life. I've learned how to embrace what is locally referred to as "African Time." Meetings are to start at 9 a.m.? Don't get upset when they start at 11:30. People are visiting with their families, taking time to develop relationships and listen, rather than rushing through a morning routine and shouting, "Hurry up, we're late!" as they scramble out the door without pausing to hear a response. "African Time" has reminded me that when it is well spent, it doesn't matter what the clock says, just what your actions do. I've learned to embrace the children proclaiming, "Myzungo! (White person!)" and stopping to talk to you on your way to catch the bus to town. A piece of candy, a "How are you? I'm fine," verbal exchange, and a few dances and songs (along with them wanting to touch your skin and hair) remind me that embracing their curiosity is what childhood and life are all about. So often, when ideas are different or foreign to us, we reject them, run away from them or question their validity. I've come to realize that embracing is a universal language that is spoken and welcome anywhere. I plan on carrying it with me wherever I go. There are wants in life, comforts in life and necessities in life. Embracing is a necessity
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Post by title1parent on Aug 8, 2010 7:27:27 GMT -5
www.dailyherald.com/story/?id=398737&src=76 Lesson from Kenya: A smile's still worth $1 million I've been warned to be careful while (or, as I've learned from my new British friends, whilst) in Africa. I've been warned to watch for pickpockets, to watch for people trying to charge me more than necessary, to keep my passport safe, to not wear expensive jewelry, to not travel alone or at night. I've pretty much been cautioned, in a thousand different ways with a thousand different words, that the only safe place is my hut, with the door locked, under my mosquito net, with loads of DEET covering any exposed skin. The thousand words of warning have stuck with me, but what has struck me more has been the universal language that exists everywhere in the world - the universal language of a smile and a wave. After nearly every corner I turn here in Kenya, there has been a smiling face with a waving hand not too far off. When a bit of homesickness finds its way into my daily routine, and my heart seems fragile, there is such comfort in knowing that we all share the ability to connect and welcome someone who is completely different from us. While I have yet to get pick-pocketed or have any jewelry stolen from me, I have spoken to many people without using any words and have felt a little piece of home thousands of words and miles away. It's hard not to imitate the child whose eyes grow larger when they see me and a slow smile spreads across his face while a hand pops up to accompany the smile. I can't help but be the mirror image - that's the power of language. It's hard not to feel safer when someone I don't know smiles, waves, and lets me know that I'm OK here and I'm welcome here - despite the fact it's not my home. I can't help but feel comforted - again, that's the power of language. So, as I leave Kenya, I know I will always carry these things in my wallet, even if they are the only items in there. A smile makes you look like a million bucks anyway.
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Post by gatordog on Aug 9, 2010 12:29:29 GMT -5
www.dailyherald.com/story/?id=398737&src=76 .... I've been warned to be careful while (or, as I've learned from my new British friends, whilst) in Africa. I've been warned to watch for pickpockets, to watch for people trying to charge me more than necessary, to keep my passport safe, to not wear expensive jewelry, to not travel alone or at night. I've pretty much been cautioned, in a thousand different ways with a thousand different words, that the only safe place is my hut, with the door locked, under my mosquito net, with loads of DEET covering any exposed skin. The thousand words of warning have stuck with me, but what has struck me more has been the universal language that exists everywhere in the world - the universal language of a smile and a wave. .... Lets throw in another hazard: she was present when Kenya just conducted its historic vote for a new constitution. www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jJnz0LHWLQR0WE1dyou53bAnCcVQD9HDG6G08Thankfully, this turned out peacefully. But there was serious doubt that it would turn out that way, since Kenya's 2007 presidental election sparked ethnic violance that cost over a 1000 people their lives. I was surely thinking of Melissa, and all the people of Kenya, while last weeks vote was going on. Melissa's spirit is truly amazing and I greatly admire her for this.
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Post by title1parent on Aug 16, 2010 6:40:03 GMT -5
www.dailyherald.com/story/?id=400513&src=76Teaching in Kenya leaves a little welcome baggageBy Melissa Bachler | Special to the Daily Herald 8/16/10 Melissa Bachler, a language arts and history teacher at Crone Middle School in Naperville, recently spent a month in Kenya as a volunteer teacher helping girls with math and reading. This is her final dispatch about her experiences. I have been back from Africa for more than a few days now, and it is baffling how much baggage we all carry even after all of our luggage is unpacked. There are some items that no matter how often you put away and no matter how much you think they're out of your luggage, they're still right where you left them - in your heart and on your mind. You can't unpack a new perspective on life, but you can enjoy carrying it with you wherever you go. There are little things and there are big things, but one thing is for certain - there are tons of things (and of course, when I go back to teaching, I will teach my students to only use a word once in a sentence). Lights really did amaze me when I first got back. I was walking at a local festival and it hit me hard that in Kenya a lighted Ferris wheel and an ATM in the middle of a parking lot wouldn't happen. I stopped to wonder what the local families were doing without their Ferris wheels and ATMs. Were they sitting around their tables laughing and starting a candle for a little light in a dark hut? When I went to go buy groceries, it hit me doubly hard that any choice of fruit or vegetable was mine to be had (in Kabula, limited doesn't begin to describe fruit and vegetable choices) and the cool air coming out of open air refrigerators would've been a welcome whisper in a place where electricity was harder to find than Oreo cookies. I stopped again to wonder what the local families were doing without their cantaloupes and free "air conditioning." Were they eating their bananas and sitting outside with the stars? Throwing away paper has been, believe it or not, the most heartbreaking piece of carry-on luggage I tote around with myself. To even put a piece in the recycling bin slows my hand to such a speed that I almost think it will stop before it gets there. I stop to wonder what the kids are doing at school without copied work sheets. Are they copying down words from the board into their notebooks because there are no such machines to do the work for them? And then I realize that yes, they are lighting up dark rooms, eating beneath the stars, and manually copying. We are all going on with life in America with our lights and refrigerators and in Kenya with their candles and limited fruit choices. And even though we are all still "going on," one thing is for certain - that extra baggage I am carrying with me from Kenya? It's a welcome weight to carry.
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