Oloolua 2 and NWHC
Our last day of classes was gruelling. We went back to Oloolua Primary school. The prior week, we taught class 8. This time we were working with class 7. There were a little over 200 girls. We again had two classes, in the same too-small, way too hot and airless room, with two concentric circles of girls. This time we had a recipe to pull it off. So it was smoother than the first class last time.
The same teacher was monitoring the sessions. She had been very interested all along. In the break between classes, she pulled me aside and asked if she could use the techniques and approaches on her husband. From what I’ve heard, this is a major issue. Given the culture of much of sub-Saharan Africa, a woman’s consent in an otherwise consensual relationship often isn’t sought. I told her that she could use them on her husband, and they’d work. But I couldn’t answer whether she should. Only she could decide that.
Every trip to teach these classes, I get some questions that burn into my soul. This one will very much remain with me forever. I can’t imagine what this poor woman is going through. And she is far from alone. When I do get these questions, it drives home why I keep going back.
By the end of the second class, I was exhausted, losing my voice, and badly dehydrated. We had 2 hours until the next class.
Our final stop was at the Nairobi Women’s Hospital College. It is primarily a nursing school, and also teaches other medical-related professional topics. We got into the school due to their relationship with the Kenya Red Cross. The women attending were expecting a classroom lecture. We quickly stood everyone up, moved the chairs and got started.
It was a very good class. The women were very engaged. They were also not shy about asking questions. Some of them were ones I get from lots of classes: What if the attacker has a weapon? What do I do if there is more than one attacker?
Others were less common, but ones I hear: What if the attacker has chemicals on a rag and holds it over my face?
After the class, we got a tour of the school grounds. It isn’t large, but is lush and pleasant.
In the shot below, the woman waving was in the class. The guy in the green sweater was one of several guys who came up to the room, drawn by the noise, to see what was happening. I kicked them all out.
The campus is terraced, as it is on a pretty good slope. A lively volleyball game was in progress.
As mentioned, this was my last day of classes. In 9 days, we had about 740 girls and women in the class. I was also thrilled to spend time with several of Ginger’s and my sponsored kids. I spent way more time with Sarah than I ever had before. We had a good time hanging out. Ronald came by the house a couple times with friends for Yahtzee. I saw Wangari J at St Chavara the day we left.
Virginia, Claudia, and I also took an all-too-short overnight safari trip to Amboseli National Park. We had a great time. I’ll post a few animal pix under separate cover.
Returning from these trips is always very difficult, psychologically, for Ginger, Claudia, and me. Comparatively, the US is a land of extreme abundance. Yet most people don’t realize it. The sense of entitlement is glaring, after spending a few weeks with people for whom the highlight of the day, if not week, is someone handing them a $1.50 bag of flour for free.
Many people are living in homes with no running water, no electricity, and cooking is done outside over charcoal. Corn flour and water is a good meal. And the people are wonderful. They are so great to be around.
It’s the people that make us want to come back.
