Kolmer and Kenya

The past week has been a trip. So much has happened that, even with my incredible, compulsive powers of organization, I have a difficult time figuring out where to start, or how to prioritize my thoughts. I suppose we'll do it chronologically, to an extent...

On Monday, Danny and I began our work at Mama Tunza's Children's Center, an orphanage and school that provides a place to sleep and 2-3 meals a day, for some, and an education, for fewer. A student there is convinced that I am his ticket out of Kibera, but he shows little aptitude in his schoolwork and even less potential in his ability to speak English. Unfortunately, another case of someone looking for money that will only get them as far as the next month or two. I have grown accustom to being asked profusely for money, ranging from amounts as small as 10 KSh (10 Kenyan shillings; approximately $0.13 in the U.S.), all the way to 500 KSh (about $6.50). The natives are indiscriminate to the age of the person they are asking; the only important part is that you are Muzungu, or a person of non-African appearance. However, regardless of how used to I have become of being asked for "help", I find it especially frustrating to be asked by this 'student' who rarely comes to class, the class I am voluntarily teaching, to ask me to 'sponsor' him in going to college. I openly refuse his offer, politely of course, but he continues to ask daily.

I have begun teaching science and math classes which began last week and, considering that the students at the children's center are actually on holiday for the last and present weeks, I saw fit to reward those students that attended class with a folder containing a ruler, some loose-leaf paper, and a calculator, as well as novels that I left open for them to democratically decide who would get which. They were thrilled, and actually applauded after I had told them that everything that I distributed was there's to keep. I was so happy for them, and am thrilled about the amount of materials still tentatively on their way to help them further their education in any capacity possible. I told them "You are all good students; hopefully this will help to make you better students". I want so much for these kids, which makes it so difficult to see the staff at the center hindering their progress either by laziness, ignorance, or volition.

For example... yesterday, during the Easter party, I was signalled by a young boy of about 6 or 7 named Brian to come upstairs with him. He walked to the back of the classroom and held up his shoes, a cheaply-made version of Krocs that had been worn so thoroughly that the edge of the shoes had disintegrated and left his toes bare. As Brian has not yet begun to learn much English, or Swahili for that matter, I have no means to communicate with him other than physical gestures. Linguistics aside, Brian is a very smart little boy and takes well to these non-verbal directions. I motioned for him to follow me across the small walkway to a closet full of supplies that had previously been donated by other volunteers. This closet, as Danny and I found it, was a product of years of non-action as it is littered with items that would find much utility if distributed to the children. The long and short is that the items have never been organized by age, gender, etc. and therefore have never met the children to whom they were originally donated to. Needless to say, Danny and I were both ready to take the bull by the horns when we stumbled across this carelessly established shit-storm and began organizing the closet the first day we arrived at the project site so that we could start disseminating the supplies to the kids before we both leave. However, back to the present... Mama Tunza, an ignorant gate-keeper of a woman who keeps the kids from "ruining things", seemingly her excuse for haphazardly tossing donated items into a closet that never sees the light of day, was in her office talking to some friends directly adjacent to the closet I have been mentioning. Brian, knowing full well the ramifications of Mama Tunza seeing him enter said closet, looked at me with blatant anxiety from across the walkway, silently letting me know that he could not walk with me. I understood immediately and entered into the closet brazenly, inviting a confrontation with Mama Tunza by being as conspicuous as possible while procuring the shoes. I walked past her office with the shoes in plain sight, but she didn't budge. Brian and I went back to the original classroom and, being that the shoes were the only in Brian's size that were available and lacked shoe strings, I put them on his dirty feet and wrapped them tight with some medical tape that was in my pocket.

Being at the center is a delight and a frustration, all in the same. I try my best to remind myself as frequently as possible that I am there for the kids, not to confront the administration of the center as to the corrupt and volatile way they choose to operate their shitty little establishment. Therefore I make a conscious effort as soon as I step inside to surround myself with the children there and to keep my distance from Mama Tunza and the staff. While I cannot truthfully say that the non-volunteering adults are bad people, I can truthfully say that they think slightly more about themselves than they do about the children that they care for. It is a difficult situation, but an opportunity to instigate a serious and profound change all the same. The children are so appreciative of what they have because, without Mama Tunza and the staff, they would have nothing and something is always better than nothing in Kenya. But when you reflect upon the innocence and the potential of these children and the examples that are being set for them, I feel no degree of pride in saying that I can do better for them if given the same tools as Mama Tunza and her cronies. I believe I have found my life's plight here in Kenya and, while it may not stay here specifically, I know that I have seen the side of life that I can change, and help. I have had such a full and fortunate life and the staples of that life, the things that cost nothing and that anyone can own, being friendship, love, honesty, integrity, and wisdom are truly virtues. I did not know the real meaning of that word, virtue, until I came here. It's easy to bet big when you have a lot to bet, but if you can know that you are the same person when the chips are down as when they are up, you are virtuous. I don't expect to change Africa, or Kenya, or Nairobi, or probably even the children's center during my time here. During my lifetime is a different story. But, what I can do now is change the minds of the people around me, and that's exactly what I intend to do.

I began reading Echoes In Our Hearts this past weekend. For those of you not familiar with this book, it chronicles the lives and untimely deaths of five Sisters who worked in a mission together in Liberia, West Africa. Two of these Sisters were my great aunts, Sister Shirley Kolmer and Sister Mary Joel Kolmer. Reading about these incredible woman has inspired me with so much hope for my work here, as well as motivated me to want to return to Kenya in the near future to establish a children's center after I have graduated medical school. I have never felt so connected to my family in all of my life and could not be more convicted that I had to come here, to Kenya, now. Reading about Shirley, specifically, has been a treat. To hear about her commandeering a U.S. army vehicle with another Sister for a little joy ride, studying and teaching mathematics, becoming the Director of Scholastics at St. Louis University, and her impatience with administration, and others, that lacked her vision and ability to see many alternatives to a problem simultaneously put a smile on my face for 20 pages straight. I was enthralled when I came across Arthur, the father of Shirley, as I recognized immediately where my grandfather and I both get our middle names from, a fact that I have proudly had inscribed across both of my shoulder blades. My last name might be Graff, but I know that I am a Kolmer and always have been. As it turns out, being stubborn, smart, and honest has run in my family for a long time and doesn't have a damn thing to do with blood.

I hope you all enjoyed your Easter. We did not do anything special at my home stay, but we had a spectacular party at the center that the kids really enjoyed. Danny, Hannah, and I all brought snacks and drinks that the kids devoured ravenously, coming back for seconds and fifths in which they held their hands out in a familiar gesture resembling children that have asked me for money. You do not fully understand the meaning of 'take it while you can get it' until you see about 20 orphans jokingly fighting over 5-10 pieces of candy. They were happy, so I was happy.

Have a good week, and talk to you all soon. Thanks for all the posts.

Zachary