The previous entry was FINALLY published successfully.
We spent all day at the Centre today, and I was so looking forward to sharing some stories, but now my brain feels like mush. Eight hours of removing safety scissors form the hands of a four year old will do that to you. This must be why pre-school is only half a day, and they upgrade to a full day of Kindergarten when the children are five and can therefore wield sharp obects with more caution (or at least some caution). Seriously, Frankie is driving us bonkers. We'll be filming some incredibly poignant moment and Frankie will climb up behind us, lean heavily on our arms (shaking the camera), and then start waving his hand in front of the lense so he can see what it looks like. No amount of "Atcha Frankie, hapana!" will discourage him, so I've embraced the power of distraction and ask him to retreive an obscure object from outside. This buys five minutes of sanity.
Our farm yard mural idea was WAY more successful than the wishing basket. En route to the Centre we picked up four huge loaves of bread, 2kg of peanut butter (I'm not kidding), 30 oranges, and 30 bananas. We bought the bread and peanut butter in a supermarket, but we asked Juma to help us bargain for the fruit from an outdoor market. So in he drives, right into the street market, honking at various goats and people pushing wheelbarrows, and pulls up next to an orange stand. It was like a Tanzanian drive through. He got us a really good price - 100 shillings an orange, and 3 bananas for 100 shillings. When we arrived at the Centre I showed the boys how you could slice up a banana and add it to a peanut butter sandwhich (they'd never heard of the combination), and told them that they could help themselves. Within ten minutes, it was all gone. These boys inhale peanut butter! Then when the bread was gone, I showed them how to slice bananas in half and spread peanut butter down the middle. Lineka was so happy he was dancing and said "It's like Mr. Christmas" (aka Father Christmas aka Santa Clause). Another heart breaking moment. At 4,500 shillings a kilogram, peanut butter is too expensive to eat on a daily basis. But less than $9 can turn a regular day into a celebration for these boys.
We waited for the food to settle (and for Frankie to be hosed off) before we started our mural activity. I then explained that we were going to create a big farm on the wall, and everyone could draw something and clue it onto the big paper. I asked them what they found on a farm, and their ideas far surpassed my expectations, including "flowers, seeds, cows, man to feed the cows, bicycles, families, house, bucket for milk, trees, birds". I was a bit nervous that we'd end up with 19 pictures of goats. The final product was stunning. It took up an entire wall, and did not resemble any farm that I have yet encountered, but was filled with Spiderman (Spidermen?), pilots, trees, mice with sunglasses, radios...the list goes on. While they were drawing we gave each boy two pencils, a small pencil sharpener, an eraser, and a small shoulder bag in which to keep their things. I asked Raphael (one of the "uncles" who lives at the Centre) to explain that the bags were for them to keep their things safe so that when Sophie and I come to the Centre everyday they know where their art supplies are. At the mention of bag ("baggy" in Swahili), they all cheered. Hardly any of them have anything that remotely resembles a backpack. They were so happy I almost started to cry, and I received a stack of notes slipped into my pockets throughout the day that said "Miss Kyla, I love you, God bless you, I miss you when you go to Canada, but thank you sana for my bag", or a variation thereof. For the rest of the day "baggy langu", "my bag" was their mantra. "MY bag". I wish that I could have packed 20 Mountain Equipment Coop backpacks instead of nylon bags that might not last a year of wear and tear, but for right now they have something that can be theirs and only theirs.
They drew for more than four hours, sitting around the living room/dining room, porch, and under the tree outside. They shared their markers and glued their pictures up as soon as they were done, the tall ones helping the short ones reach empty space at the top of the mural. Kelvin started sweeping the paper scraps (of which there were many) without being asked, and the broom was about twice his height which was rather humorous. They packed up all the markers and put them in a pile on top of our bags when they were done. A few mysteriously kept appearing during their dancing lesson (more on this later) as kids ran by and emptied their pockets. They don't intentionally steal anything, I think most of them honestly forget what they have put in their pockets, and for others I can't blame their desire to have one "marker pen" (say that with an African accent) in the whole world that they can use to draw. Speaking of marker pens, Crayola makes "multicultural markers", which are basically a box of 8 different skin tones. The one that most closely resembles my translucent skin is called "beige", but to the boys is "mzungu colour". I am beige. They are "mahogany" or "siena" or "terra cotta" or "bronze". I am "beige" and after a bottle of self tanner may progress to "golden beige". Seriously Crayola, did you run out of ideas as you moved through the spectrum? Anway, these markers make for really cool drawings of people as well as really cool drawings of tree bark.
After the initial frenzy of drawing had calmed down (after two and a half hours), I went into my old classroom, which is now a bedroom, to help Hussein with his homework. His unit in Science right now is on HIV/AIDS and it was a fill in the blank exercise that had him confused. I read through his notes and then the questions, and I honestly don't know what the teacher's intention was. He had good notes on "You cannot transmit HIV by: playing with infected children, sharing spoons, holding hands...", etc., and "To protect yourself: don't share needles, nail clippers, or tooth extraction tools" (yeah, I found the last one a bit odd, too) but the fill in the blank questions were "AIDS stands for __________", and "the process by which blood is transferred from one patient to another in a hospital is __________". Hussein had answered "a dangerous disease" for the first question and left the second question blank (the answer they were going for was "blood transfusion"). But seriously, what's more important: having an eleven year old memorize "Acquired Immuno Deficiency Syndrome" and develop a fear of hospitals, or something useful about getting tested and not stigmatizing HIV positive people? Ah well, a step in the right direction, I am sure.
Once Hussein was finished I went into the adjacent bedroom, which has three sets of bunkbeds and sleeps seven kids (you do the math). Gilbert and Kelvin were playing a card game on Kelvin's bed with cards that looked like a McDonalds box of French fries. They were using the inside of soda tops (that rubbery round thing you can pull out) as chips. They were sitting so quietly and playing so nicely...and they are so little. They could also probably clean you out of soda tops in minutes. Hussein came in and began putting away his school things. He sleeps on the bunk above Kelvin and so I could inadvertantly watch him under the guise of observing the card game. He has a small cardboard box attached to the ceiling with green wool that hangs above his bed where he keeps small treasures. He had a really intricate system of hiding his school books under his mattress, putting his pencil and marbles into the hanging box, and stashing his other belongings along the side of his bed. He hung his new bag on the post of the bunkbed, covered it with his school uniform shirt, and then said "Time for rest" and settled down under a sheet to read his school book. All his belongings in the world fit into the space of one twin size bunkbed. Everything he does is so methodical, he is really a very intelligent boy. His skin is extremely dark (Sophie and I agree that he doesn't really look Chagga, he looks like he could be from Ethiopia) he is extremely tall and thin, and his teeth are extremely white. His voice is still quite high pitched and he speaks very quickly and adds "-y" to the ends of all his words. "You putty whatty here? I writey this wordy here?". His older brother also lives at the Centre, and in the year that I have been gone, has overtaken me in height. Same stunning dark skin and white teeth. There are multiple times daily when I consider sending photographs of these boys to modelling agencies. How do all these famous African models and athletes get discovered? I have at least 20 waiting! Maybe I should try e-mailing Iman...
They all cleaned up in time for dance lessons. The are learning the "new Tanzanian dancing" from a dance teacher in Moshi. They LOVE it, and practise constantly. It appears to be a mixture of MC Hammer and the Village People. If you have a moment, I suggest spending some time on YouTube to see what I am talking about. The dance teacher is also a singer, and sings in a piercing falsetto as the boys do a more rhythmic version of the Sprinkler and moderated karate kicks. It is really a sight to behold...especially their huge smiles.
Alright, I am about to pass out from exhaustion, and still have to make camera labels. Sophie and I were feeling really depressed that so many of the boys had "wished" for video cameras, until we realized that we have brought disposable cameras for each of them. It's not much, but none of them have ever had their own cameras, and they will be able to take 23 pictures each and we will get them developed. I brought small photo albums too, so they can keep their photos safe. We will have to explain carefully in Swahili that the cameras are disposable and will only work once, but I think they will be excited. Seeing their pictures will be really interesting.
Thanks for reading! If you're interested in sending anything to the Centre, send me an e-mail. Clothes, new bed sheets, and backpacks would all be hugely appreciated. Sophie and I are also wishing we had some antibacterial Febreeze because the boys sleep on foam mattresses (five inch thick pieces of foam...not the foam wrapped in some sort of covering and labelled as a mattress that we are accustomed to), and these mattresses have been used by many small boys over the years.
Asante sana, baadiye! (Thank you very much, see you later!)
