Kenya Reflections (2)

The second post in my reflections on what I learnt as a volunteer in Kenya for 18 months between January -December 2010 and April - October 2011.

My U14 football teams getting ready for training...

Kenyan people and culture taught me,,,
Never mind the differences between each of the 42 tribes; we'd be here forever trying to pin that down.

About hospitality...
I have never experienced such honest hospitality. To have a visitor is genuinely considered as a blessing and this meant that I was warmly welcomed everywhere I went, in my travels up and down the country. Whether we had met before, spoke a common language or on so many occasions neither of those.
As a visitor you're expected to drink at least two cups of tea so if visiting several families in a day it can really add up... (record of 21 cups in a day)

The fact that a family who expected nothing in return, took me in for a whole year, sheltered, fed and cared for me when I was sick. Accepting me as their daughter and welcoming me back after a 5 month absence with open arms and beaming smiles.
The hospitality of Kenyans has taught me a valuable lesson for life. Hospitality isn't just what tea and cake you can provide for a visitor to your home. It's what you can give that costs nothing and expecting nothing back. (of course there were occasions where something was expected back, money, status, help, food but on the whole...) Hospitality was given to me with both hands, not with one reaching out to me for what could be taken back. It's holding a space for someone to shelter in a storm (physically and emotionally) and just being there willing to offer whatever it is you have, however small.

About having something to say when you think you have nothing to say...
Complicated?
Picture the scene...you've had a long day and just as your walking home you discover that a local primary school is holding an event (sports day/prayer day/prize giving). While you do know some of the kids from your attempts at U14 football, you're tired and decide you'll just head home. As you attempt to pass by as inconspicuously as 'the only white girl in the village' can, of course someone calls you in. Having already learnt about hospitality/visitors can you say no?
Suddenly you find yourself stood in front of more than 800 pupils, their parents, grandparents, neighbours, the village elders, chief and if you're lucky some impressing looking soldier guys holding AK47s. Everyone's face turned towards you expectant that you're going to say something. Not just anything, but to give an inspiring, motivating and encouraging speech at an event you still don't know the reason for. A speech that can be easily translated in bitesize chunks because you still don't speak Kiswahili/Kalenjin (at least in the breaks for translation you can figure out your next sentence!)
You probably think I'm exaggerating... Really, I'm not... This exact scenario and many like it happened on a regular basis when I lived in Kiptere.
But again it taught me a lot.

If you had a captive audience, what would you say? 

I'm the shy retiring type, I never spoke up in class, don't go to loud parties and much prefer to be the one behind the stage rather than on it.
Being 'forced' into so many of these situations taught me that I do have something to say and it's something that people want to hear. That my voice does deserve to be heard just as loudly as any other
(okay, I'm still working on this but you see what I mean...)
Without those experiences there is no way that I would have been live on my local radio station talking about my own experience of bullying and how I'm helping others in the same situation through online mentoring...  and last week that's exactly what I was doing...

That it's okay to be on the way... 
Lateness is an accepted part of many African cultures and Kenya is certainly no exception. But really as well as a deep appreciation for British time keeping, the constant lateness did teach me something very important.
Transport, roads, fuel availability, traffic accidents are all variables that went from bad to worst several times on my journeys. Just to get from Kiptere to town (the nearest real supermarket) could take anything from 30mins to 2 1/2 hours. I spent a lot of time waiting for people to show up for meetings (even on a few occasions arriving more than a whole day late).
In that waiting and travelling I learnt that it's okay just to be on the way.
A constant panic of just how late you're going to be is not going to get you there any sooner. Nor is shouting at the donkey/small children/sleeping drunk man blocking the middle of the road. The best and most useful thing you can do is relax, buy a roasted maize cob from the seller at the side of the road and talk to your travelling companions. Who knows that you might find out?
I discovered one such gem when travelling back from a days conference alone, a drinks lorry had overturned in front of us causing a huge traffic jam and meaning I would be arriving home much later than expected. The matatu's conductor, working miles from Kiptere, actually came from the family 'next door' to mine. So when we arrived back 6 hours late at 11pm he arranged for a cousin to escort me home in the dark and even called to visit a week latter to check I had been okay.

Matatu Stage in Kiptere

Lateness as an attribute has taught me to just 'be', if that's on the way to somewhere or waiting for someone on the way themselves. In the moments of waiting you never know who you might come across but that will only happen if you take the chance to look around you rather than fixing your eyes on the road or your watch.

In my third reflection I have a few more insights into what I learnt from people/culture especially about what really matters and knowledge...