DAY EIGHTEEN

It is 8 am and we are on our way to the  Sirua Aulo Academy.    With the help of a missionary Emanuel bought land on the top of a hill with a majestic view of the surrounding countryside and built a school for primary children of the poorest villages.  He believed every child should have an education, even special needs children.    Children in the Kenya Public system must be tested before they can enter public schools and if they can’t pass, they won’t be allowed to go to school, while special needs kids are ignored completely and often hidden from public view by their families.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel of the jeep as we slide and tip going up the hill.  His son Larousi bounces along happily in the back seat.

“I think it will be very hot today, ” Emanuel tells me.  “Then, suddenly, it will rain.”

I peer up at the sky awash in varying shades of pink, rust and gold.   “When will it rain?”

“Around…let’s say 5 pm.”

“Why then?”

“It’s just what happens this time of year.  The rainy season will be starting soon.”  He frowns.  “We need a well so the children will be safe if there is a drought and girls will be able to go to school if they don’t have to spend all day lugging water home for their families.”  I watch him as he glances out the window.  His eyes light up and he smiles as if he is transformed from the inside out with happiness.

His mood is catchy for when I spot a orange headed lizard scampering over a mud hole, my heart seems to soar.  Birds of orange and black, their eyes rimmed with yellow dart among the trees.  I know I am feeling better, for  everything around me is somehow better,  more, every sensation more extreme, every color more brilliant this morning.  The school wasn’t far from Emanuel’s compound, but it took almost an hour to traverse the roads.

Emanuel glances at me.    I try to appear relaxed, but I must hang on to the seat to keep from slipping to the floor.  He is usually quiet, but today he relates a bit of history.  I think it is to ease my mind as we slip and slide along the muddy ruts as if we are on ice.  “The British weren’t really interested in Kenya but became involved because of Uganda and the source of the Nile.  The Government wanted to keep the Germans and French from having access to the Suez Canal as this was an important British trade route to India, the scared cow of the Imperial crown.”

As we drive up to the school we pass a group of children playing soccer.  The ragged balls falls into a muddy hole.  A boy reaches in and throws the ball in the air; mud scatters from above.  We pass more children sitting and reading while others are washing clothes and hanging them to dry.

I lick my dry lips.  “Where are the rest of the kid?”

“In the school rooms.”  Emanuel points to a long low building.  We stop in front of a large square building that is the office and library.

The children, as well as the teachers, all live at the school and right now there are 380 students to teach and feed and clothe and care for.  They are fed three times a day, the food cooked over a wood fire.  Every three months the children are sent back to their villages for three weeks in order to keep the bond of the children and family or their caretakers strong.

Today I will work with three and four year olds.   I knock on the outside wood for there is no door and pause at the doorway, calling out “Hodi.”

“Karibu,” the teacher welcomes me to come in.  The children are happy to see me.  They’re dressed in a variety of un-matched clothes and sit on chairs.

It takes two hours to read the book,  The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle for the children like to come up and touch the page, stare at me, pull on my hair.  The teacher works with each one of them as I tell the story and asks them questions.  Tomorrow they will each draw a picture of a butterfly, to illustrate the story.

I then went to the Nursery Children and read The Old Lady Who Wasn’t Afraid of Anything by Linda Williams.  We read the story and then sing the song.  The children delight in making all the sounds and movements of the shoes clopping, the pants shaking, the gloves clapping, the hat nodding, the shirt wiggling and the pumpkin crying “Boo Boo.”   It was difficult to find books for the children that spoke to them of their own experiences for the library was made up  of donated books from Western Countries.  We talked about a forest and a scarecrow and tomorrow when I visit I asked them to tell me about the things that might scare them when they took a walk in the bush.

I eat a light lunch with Lillian who came with us to the school to check on the food supply.  She is in charge of ordering what they need and seems very proud to have such an important job.  At home she is in charge of everything from getting food, cooking, cleaning, taking care of the cows, (they take a lot of work) milking them and then having to boil the milk twice before serving it.  Washing clothes in buckets of water carried from the rain barrels and heated over the wood.  The clothes are slung over fences and near by trees.  We eat beans, a great deal of beans and some greens.  I excuse myself to go to the latrine that is down the hill in a small wooden enclosure.

I stand over the hole in the ground and pee, happy, so happy that I have brought along a package of personal wipes.