There are too few words to use to describe the beauty of our home. Yes it was ridiculously hot. Yes it was dry. Yes people were poor. Yes it was remote. No there was no electricity, running water or paved roads. But everything it was missing was what made it beautiful. Simple beauty. No city skylines. No constant flow of traffic. No hussle and bussle. No rich to make the poor look poor. No crowded living. Just simplicity.
My home was nestled 15km west of Kajiado, Kenya. It is not a town, rather just one of many maasai homes placed sporadically across the countryside. The traditional Maasai live in Manyattas (clay hutts), but our father was not so traditional. He is more of a modern Maasai. Educated, fluent in English, well travelled and a popular man in the community. We lived in a rustic stone house, with very basic facilities. A small solar panel to light the one light (night time use only), a couple coal fire pots to cook food in, 3 small but cosy bedrooms, some very hard, but welcoming couch chairs and an amazing father.
Sammy Rampei. Remember that name. If you ever visit Kenya, Sammy is one man you need to meet. His hospitality, generosity and kindness is overwhelming. So overwhelming that at first i thought it was fake. His wife Janet (Nashumu) is an amazing cook, with a love for practical jokes. Their 16 year old son Saitoti is the hardest worker, and the sweetest boy i have ever met.
I would love to say that the month went smoothly with no hiccups, and no culture shock. The first week, Kirsty, Ellie (the 2 other volunteers) and I were ready to leave. Culture shock hit us hard, and we weren't ready for the Maasai lifestyle. But we adjusted, and before too long felt more than comfortable in our new environment. We just needed something to focus on, and a daily routine.
After a few discussions with Sammy's local NGO, we decided that working at Paranae Primary School would be our focus for the month. We wanted to achieve big things, and change peoples lives. We were full of ambition after seeing the efforts of other volunteers in Nairobi. They were inspiring, motivated, creative and most of all, effective. They weren't there just to paint a class room and pretend like that really makes a difference. They were improving the quality of life for the children in the orphanages. They were ensuring the kitchen staff at kibera olympic school no longer had to work in a kitchen so smokey you could not last any longer than 5 minutes in. They were role models. They were teachers. They were effective. But they also had financial backing, one thing i did not.
Our daily schedule was very flexible, and very disorganised. Nothing was ever set in concrete. But roughly, here is how it went.
8am rise (if the calves mooing outside your window hadn't already got you up earlier), cup of chai (first of many for the day), light breakfast (usually mandazi, chipati or local pancakes), head to school for the day, come home, quick nap, cup of chai, another cup of chai, dinner, cup of chai, conversation, bed. Evenings were often filled with dancing, jokes, card tricks, listening to music, helping to bring in the goats & cattle, helping Saitoti with his homework and so on. The solar light usually only lasted 4-5 hours so once it went out we would hit the hay.
The lifestyle of the maasai is very hard, but also very simple. The more goats you own, the richer you are (even though they may not have any money). They walk with the animals every day, taking them to the water bore (3km walk from our house, but up to 10km for others). We were there during a bad drought. Animals had no food. Some were so weak they could not stand. Some were dying. Families were hungry, poor and desperate. Some would go days without food. The drought had refused them the ability to grow their own crops and achieve self-sustainability. How is a Maasai man, who has neevr had a use for money, supposed to now go and buy food for his family? Where is he supposed to get the money from? A desperate situation becoming more and more desperate. Global warming has struck Maasailand. These people have bought no trouble to the world. They keep to themselves. They are peaceful, kind, and of no threat to anybody in the world. But thanks to current times, we, yes WE are destroying their quality of life. We are killing their livestock. We are denying them water. We are starving them. You, me, everyone.
Despite this, they remain the happiest people. Strangers, friends, everyone you see is more than happy to smile, shake your hand and laugh at our feeble attempts to stutter out a Maasai greeting. They may barely have enough food to feed their family, but they are more than happy to invite you into their home and give you a cup of chai. You almost feel as though you are a part of everybody's family, not just one.
In saying that, there are still some messed up Maasai traditions, which are slowly being abolished. The worst, female genital mutilation (FGM). Although illegal in Kenya, it is still practiced in many Maasai communities. There are huge efforts in place to put an end to this. One lady in Kajiado has started a school for girls she has saved from FGM. Her school is amazing, but an absolutle tear jerker. Child marriages is also another, and sickens me to think about.
So, what did i achieve volunteering? Did i change the world as i expected? No, not even close. That was the hardest part. I had huge ambitions. I thought i would leave kajiado and look back thinking i improved the quality of life for so many. After meeting with the head teacher at Paranae school, i knew this wouldnt be the case. Changing lives not always, but more than often has a very big dollar sign in front of it. We all realised there was nothing we could do but accept this but still give it our all.
The school is extremely basic. Roughly 150 students, 10 teachers (one of which is only 16 years old), run down classroms and very used text books. Thats it. No sporting equipment, no extra curricular activities. We decided to change that, especially with a zonal sporting competition just around the corner. Putting together the little money we could afford to donate, we whipped into Kajiado and stocked up on supplies. Then, back at school we rolled up our sleeves and managed to build a volleyball court and a netball court. The kids loved it. And even though to us it seemed a small improvement, for the children it was huge. Sport is a of their lives. But unfortunately, they have never had the facilities to actually play and practice sport. They were out there every day practicing hard for the zonals. We tried to coach, but with a language barrier it was hard. After time though, i noticed that just being there and watching and clapping was more than enough. They love to impress the Mzungu (white person). So with us around they were giveing 110%. They played hard at zonals and managed to win about 80% of the sports, which apparantly never happens. The school morale noticeably lifted after zonals, and we actually started to believe that what we were doing was worthwhile.
One of the sad things about Paranae is the quality of education. I would love to say the teachers work hard and do everything they can to ensure the children get the highest grades possible, but that would be a lie. But I cant. They are lazy. They sleep in the staff room. They show up to classes late. Sometimes they dont come to school for days which leaves a class unattended for days. But it would be unfair to pass judgement so easily. They are doing a job i could not, for a wage i would laugh at. They are unmotivated and for fair reason. But unfortunately, their lack of motivationr eflects the childrens grades. I spent days marking work. the average mark was about 30%. It was absolutely shocking. But apparantly, these marks are echoed throughout rural schools. The teachers blame the students. The students blame the teachers. The community shrugs its shoulders and ignores the fact that their children are being denied a decent education. Why does a Maasai child need an education when his life will consist of herding goats? This is the frame of mind shared by traditional Maasai people.
The last week at school, we stumbled around the school doing anything we could before leaving. We put windows on classrooms so they no longer had to pick up their books off the ground when the wind picked up. We paid the whopping school fees ($32) for a girl who's mother could not afford to keep her in nursery.
We did not change the world, but we did bring happiness to the few people we met. I'm content with that.
