Star Pupil

Last week I dealt out an assignment to my class 8, 7 and 6 students about Parenthood. We spent the lessons talking about what makes a good parent, what makes a parent bad, the different responsibilities of being a parent and how the younger someone is as a parent the more difficult it is for them to meet these responsibilities. I’m trying to deter teenage pregnancy here people.

The assignment was a list of 8 questions that I asked them to answer and tell my why they answered them.

1. Do you like children?
2. Do you have the patience to raise a child?
3. Would you beat your child if they misbehaved or you lost your temper?
4. Are you financially able to raise a child?
5. Would having a child interfere with your future goals?
6. Would you expect your child to take care of you in your old age?
7. Would you be willing to devote a large part of 18 years to be a devoted parent?
8. Could you accept and love a child who was physically or mentally disabled?

Well after piles of the same answer over and over. “Yes, because children are a gift from God.” “Yes, because you must teach your kids to stop bad behaviors.” “Yes, because I will have a career and be able to raise a family.” “Yes, because children are a blessing.”

Blah, blah, bah….Then I came across this little gem.

1. Do you like children? No, they are disturbing and making a person to have headache.
2. Do you have the patience to raise a child? No, because I don’t like them.
3. Would you beat your child if they misbehaved or you lost your temper? No, because I would not have a child.
4. Are you financially able to raise a child? No, because they are unbearable.
5. Would having a child interfere with your future goals? Yes, because when she/he is sick I wouldn’t go to work or school instead I will take her/him to the hospital and that is wastage of my time.
6. Would you expect your child to take care of you in your old age? No, because they would make me be stressed and I can finally die of ulcers.
7. Would you be willing to devote a large part of 18 years to be a devoted parent? No, they could be pretending in school and I can be called by the head teacher, and being asked silly questions.
8. Could you accept and love a child who was physically or mentally disabled? Yes, coz it is not their wish to be like that, it is also my dream that when I grow up I would like to be a charity woman who will take care of people with special needs. 

She is my new favorite student. Not because her answers are entertaining, but because it is so rare to see thinking like this, it deviates from the norm here. She is my new favorite because she is brave enough to think differently. Plus she funny as hell. I gave her TWO stickers.

My Mom Could Beat Up Your Mom

Dear Mom,
Thanks for keeping me warm in your uterus for the majority of 1986 and a bit of '85. 
Thanks for slinging me by my knees whenever we would go camping cause I couldn't quite master the art of peeing outside.
Thanks for taking us out of Polish school. That place was the worst.
Thanks for letting me draw on my walls in Middle Schol. It looked awful but I thought I was so cool. And you let me think it. 
Thanks for all the groceries during college.
Thanks for letting me be hysterical sometimes.
Thanks for giving me a weird name. Conversation starter for life.

For all the little and big things you have done for me in my life. Thanks. They haven't gone unnoticed and there is a bit of you in ever decision I make.

Love you for always and ever,
Iwona

Thanksgiving in NY

When we went 'hiking'. We need more pics of the two of us together.

B&B. Beverage and Baby.

Happy Day O' Birth

Happy Birthday to Meagan Panici. One of my oldest and dearest friends. Thanks for always explaining technology to me and making sure there was food in the house when I was to lazy to shop. 

19/20 and about to hit Chicago for our first night ever in our brand new apartment! We were babies!

A couple years older but still positioning ourselves the same. Mea on the left, me on the right. 

Post Election Reflection

So it's the 21st of April and I know you are all DYING to know more about my post election life.
As far as the Kenyan 2013 elections went from my perspective there was ofcourse some finger pointing, some ballots ditched on the side of the road, and to every Kenyan's surprise, but not our's, technology failed when turning in regional polling result. My point of view for the whole two week period from March 1-14th, was that it was sunny, the pool was a bit to cold, I ate to much garlic naan and my beverage supply never ran low. Peace Corps Kenya locked its itty bitty chickies away for a whole two weeks in a pretty posh hotel where we were encouraged to continue our language tutoring, offered courses on CPR, crafts and dancing. Just when we didn't think it was possible for Peace Corps to be any more like camp.

The Peace Corps prepared for a situation that probably looked like this: Election results posted, no matter what the outcome, one large group would be extremely unhappy. Tire burning would start, bar room brawls would escalate into the streets, rallies would be held uniting people under a banner of hate, roads would be blocked and Peace Corps Volunteers would be unable to return to their sites with a guarantee of safety. Next step? Let's get the hell outta here.

This is what actually happened: A winner was announced. Kenyans reacted mildly with joy and disapproval. Kenyans who had things to do, went about doing those things.

And far away in the safe belly of Lukenya 100 Peace Corps Volunteers all got to finally meet each other face to face and not just on Facebook. We got fat, we got sunburned and we got fun.

Meanwhile back at site....
My community was extremely excited at the results of the election. Their candidate won. Woo hoo? My feeble attempts to assure my co-workers and friends that "No I was NOT scared of the elections, my company was" fell on deaf ears and once again I got to be the source of a good hearty Kenyan chuckle. Work continues uninterrupted. Uhuru Kenyatta got sworn in on a Tues, I also received Mon and Wed off because Gikuyus know how to get down.

16 months till home! That give me 16 months to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Woo hoo?

Runin' Around

On my last day of teaching classes for this term before the break, my school of choice Githima Primary, hosted a track competition for itself and five other schools. I got to stick around, root on some of my students, meet teachers from the other schools and take some cool pictures. I had to leave early cause I had a meeting so I missed the high jump but there is always next season. 

Our score board.

All of the Githima Primary School athletes that were competing.

The Male Javelin Competition.

See what I was saying about malnutrition?

The starting line of the Men's 10,000 meter.

Not a shoe to be seen.

This one is my student in class 7. He is such a bro. He always participates in class and regulates when the kids swarm me.

 "Teacher? Do you want us to make these girls stop disturbing you?"

My female body guards. When the kids from the other schools started swarming me and grabbing my hair my Class 7 students came to my rescue. 

The girl in front in maroon winning the Female 100 Yard Sprint is in one of my Class 8s.

This one is running in jeggings!!! We shall call her Heat Rash.

One of the few girl athletes not wearing a modesty skirt.

This one is as skinny as the javelin.

The one in pink is my student. This picture was actually a false start on his part, but he looks cool in the lead.

Chateau de Kenya

Some of the windows don't close all the way. There are a few light bulbs missing. The tank to the latrine keeps leaking. The kitchen cabinets only shut when I slam them, and almost pull my arm out of the socket to open them. There is paint everywhere there shouldn't be. In the sinks, on the electrical sockets and on the floor. Some of the rooms have spaces where there should be electrical outlets, but instead they are just covered up. It's my new house and it's perfect.  
I can now blast music as loud as my little Dell computer will let me. I can smoke inside. I can light my jiko in one room and walk into another to watch a movie, or go lay down for a nap. I can do house hold activities in all the rooms that these actions were designated for.
This is paradise. 
After spending 9 months literally living on top of my things, the comfort of being able to spread out is almost intimidating. But only for a second, cause then I realize that I can dance over here in this corner, or not wear pants walking from this room to that room or wash ANYTHING inside. Most importantly though, it makes me finally want to be here. After a day of struggling with language, or multiple people commenting on my appearance in a not so polite manner I can walk inside close the door and know that I am completely alone to my own devices. I can say what I want to my friends on the phone and know that no one is listening. I can be my weird inappropriate and disgusting self in here. It feels like home. 

What Would've Been

The Kenyan Presidential elections are right around the corner. With my possible evacuation on the heels of this event I can only reflect on my past 9 months in Kenya as the time when I lived in a Hobbit Hole. Today I slinked into the house that has been dangling in front of my face since August to snap some snaps. If I have to leave here suddenly I at least want some of the world out there to know that I could have lived like an American in Kenya. I just didn't. 

Disclaimer: I had no control over how it was painted. It looks like a hospital because it was built by a hospital. 

View from the back door into the living room. Look at that cute little kitchen window.

Looking in the living room from the other side of the room.

My bathroom vanity in the hallway. Yes that is a mirror and a sink with running water. 

Closets. There is one of these in each of the two bedrooms. It would've meant me not storing things in suitcases like a hobo anymore. 

Cute picture from my cute little kitchen window. 

My kitchen where I could have cooked and cut things on counters. 

Yes you see that correctly.

And electricity.

The best part. A FLUSHABLE latrine. 

The salt to the wounds. A hot shower. 

I've spent most of my time these last 7 months forgetting this place existed because it made living in the Hobbit Hole bearable.  I have to walk past it everyday just to go anywhere. Now it will simply haunt my dreams.