Jimzy In.......
Would it be fair if we, young energetic able bodied youth visited a new city and did not taste/tempt the party scene or did not write about it? I think not! So, what does Nairobi city look like when the shops close, bankers go home, and children are safely tucked in? A few members of the SE101 team (names witheld on request, and my writing this should/does not insinuate that I am the party animal of the team. It so happens that tonight the blogging duties fall to me) will take you on a tour of the Nairobi party scene.
TACOS: Location-CITY CENTRE. The music is great, some of the tracks were similar to those played in Canada and I clearly recall two memebers of the team singing along to some of the songs being played. This is where Alvina, Kevin and Steven took to the dance floor-details of which may be found in an earlier blog.
PAVEMENT: Location-WESTLANDS. An extremely great and a must go-to club in my opinion. Had what it takes to make a great club scene. Nice music, perfect ambience, crowd that seemed to be made up of passionate club goers and party people. I noticed the crowd was mixed (not unlike a Vancouver club scene) and was clearly a favorite for tourists/foreigners/expatriates or it was probably the theme night that seemed to attract everyone. It was a 2 in 1 club. With one section of the club playing main stream hip hop music and the other playing techno/garage sounds. The only hustle was getting into the club and the line up stretched about a block. Club cover was about 400Kes, beers 120Kes, a gin shot 300Kes.
QUEUES: Location-WESTLANDS. Also a 2 in 1 club establishment. Despite the flight of steps one has to climb to get to either, it is a fairly descent party place. Both clubs play similar genre of music but are manned by different D.J's. The top floor is an open air club/bar/pub allowing you to party alfresco. With the another club on the 2nd floor where you could relocate if you wished for warmer temperatures.
REZEROUS(not too sure of the spelling): Location-WESTLANDS. A 3 minute walk from QUEUES. Extremely jam packed on all occasions one of the team went there. A wide range of music, pocket friendly prices and great crowd. Other than the line up to get into the club, all is well at this location.
CARNIVORE: Location-CLOSE TO NAIROBI NATIONAL PARK. Yet to be tasted/tested.Though it is well known for its theme nights.
K1: Location- WESTLANDS. Excellent ambience and decor. Wood and grass thatch is the predominant architectural design theme. In essence there are close to three different pubs at this location. Fortunately, there is nyama choma and othe fast food should belly make demands for food. Beer and nyama choma is definitely big in Nairobi and a great combination too experience has proven. Highly recommended you carry along a sweater or jacket. Also a great spot on Tuesdays for Karoke lovers.
And that is it for now. Please note more venues may be added to this list in the near future. So incase you wish to stumble home at 5am the next time you are in Nairobi like........................ you know where the adventures lie.
.................Jimzy Out!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Doing Business in Kibera
Both Friday and today I had to journey through Kibera by foot in the hopes of helping to set up the business of one of our participants from last year. Part of this experience has been really fun. Today, while walking along one of the streets, I was stopped by three people, all of whom called me by name. Felix, who works at my hotel; Lawrence, who owns the matatu we used last year to get back and forth from Kibera; and Cartoon, one of last year's participants. On Friday, I ran into two of the other participants from last year. They all give huge smiles and loud, friendly greetings and handshakes. Kibera houses nearly a million people. I can't think of a time I encountered three people I knew on the same day while walking a street in Vancouver. There are not that many white people who pass through in the course of the day, so I'm easily recognized.
However, trying to set up a business here is not an easy task. In this situation, our team is trying to fund Patrick, who wants to start Nimitz Kerosene, which will sell small quantities of kerosene to individuals who can only afford to buy enough to cook one meal at a time. He is the only participant from last year who mostly completed a business plan, and one that showed that a profit was fairly easy to attain. We are committed to trying to set up a successful business so that we can show that our training can make a difference.
It is difficult to know how much of what feels like an almost impossible challenge is due to simple (!) cultural differences, and how much arises due to the unwillingness to just hand out money to a person starting a business. Our concern is that we really want Patrick's business to start--we don't want him to just take our money and use it for other purposes. The amount of money we're talking about is roughly $160 (10,000 Kenyan shillings.)
Trying to convince Patrick that he really does need to show us the receipt for the rent he paid (and trying to convince the purported landlord of the same) took about an hour. We didn't get a receipt at the end of that conversation. Henry, a Kenyan partner who is trying to help our team launch a successful business, interrogated them both, after I'd already done so before he arrived. I encouraged him to do it in Swahili, even though it would mean that I didn't understand the conversation. I figured he could assess honesty in "native" language better than I could do so in English. In the end, we agreed that the rent receipt must be produced at our next meeting.
Then we were off to buy 100 liters of kerosene, a tank to hold it, and small polyethelene bags (think baggies with twist ties!) Nothing is ever easy, though. The woman we'd met on Friday who is to sell us the kerosene wasn't around. One of her employees was. Should we buy from him or wait for her (because we need her to guarantee that if for some reason Patrick doesn't actually accept delivery of the kerosene, but wants the money instead, the money has to come back to us.) We'd also like to ask her to mentor him, so that each day, he deposits with her the cost of the kerosene he's sold that day (keeping the profits himself), so that by the time the first tank of kerosene is sold, he's put on deposit all the money needed to buy the next one.
Stymied on that front, we try to do something else--purchase the polyethelene bags that will hold the small quantities of kerosene. An old, rugged looking guy arrives at the kerosene depot after a five minute wait, carrying a very heavy bag filled with packets of baggies in a variety of sizes. Bargaining begins, all in Swahili. I can tell that the bargaining is not going well, at least for my side. The seller seems to think he has the edge. I whisper to Henry, "it's because I'm standing here," which he acknowledges. White people can afford to pay much higher prices, or at least that's what the seller is using as his bargaining strategy. He accurately assumes that I must be involved somehow, or I wouldn't be standing there. Henry tries to explain to him that the bags are not for me, but for Patrick. Somehow a price is arrived at that Henry deems fair, and then of course, I shell out the money ($3.87), living up to the stereotype: white people have the money.
We learn of a good price on the kerosene tank (1000 Kenyan shillings, or about $16), though it's sold at a shop near Bahati, our other teaching site. I decide that we can probably get our cab driver to pick it up for us during one of our daily trips. Then Patrick claims that he's already ordered the tank from elsewhere (meaning we're supposed to give him the money for it.) This was not in our plan (which was mainly to purchase his supplies, not give him any cash). So, we finally decide to give him the money for the tank, but not the money for his sign, and a few other things (all of these other things came to an amount equivalent to the cost of the tank). Instead, he'll have to produce the tank and the receipt before we go any further along in this business venture.
Before finishing for the day, we make Patrick sign a document acknowledging receipt of the money, and acknowledging that it's a loan which he must start paying off within a week, at $1.60 a week. At first he tries to beg that we give him a three-month grace period before he begins to repay the loan, but we do not budge. There is no interest charged. We tell him that if he misses any payments we will liquidate his assets to get our loan repaid. This is a high finance operation, afterall.
As I write this, I consider that maybe we should have just given the entire $160 away. Henry is a business consultant here in Nairobi, and I have a good salary in Canada. We have now spent 12 hours collectively trying to make sure we don't lose $160. And we're not even done. And, if I want to collect on the default, I may need to add on the cost of an airplane ticket to Nairobi. Or send Henry.
Mentoring entrepreneurs is hard work!
However, trying to set up a business here is not an easy task. In this situation, our team is trying to fund Patrick, who wants to start Nimitz Kerosene, which will sell small quantities of kerosene to individuals who can only afford to buy enough to cook one meal at a time. He is the only participant from last year who mostly completed a business plan, and one that showed that a profit was fairly easy to attain. We are committed to trying to set up a successful business so that we can show that our training can make a difference.
It is difficult to know how much of what feels like an almost impossible challenge is due to simple (!) cultural differences, and how much arises due to the unwillingness to just hand out money to a person starting a business. Our concern is that we really want Patrick's business to start--we don't want him to just take our money and use it for other purposes. The amount of money we're talking about is roughly $160 (10,000 Kenyan shillings.)
Trying to convince Patrick that he really does need to show us the receipt for the rent he paid (and trying to convince the purported landlord of the same) took about an hour. We didn't get a receipt at the end of that conversation. Henry, a Kenyan partner who is trying to help our team launch a successful business, interrogated them both, after I'd already done so before he arrived. I encouraged him to do it in Swahili, even though it would mean that I didn't understand the conversation. I figured he could assess honesty in "native" language better than I could do so in English. In the end, we agreed that the rent receipt must be produced at our next meeting.
Then we were off to buy 100 liters of kerosene, a tank to hold it, and small polyethelene bags (think baggies with twist ties!) Nothing is ever easy, though. The woman we'd met on Friday who is to sell us the kerosene wasn't around. One of her employees was. Should we buy from him or wait for her (because we need her to guarantee that if for some reason Patrick doesn't actually accept delivery of the kerosene, but wants the money instead, the money has to come back to us.) We'd also like to ask her to mentor him, so that each day, he deposits with her the cost of the kerosene he's sold that day (keeping the profits himself), so that by the time the first tank of kerosene is sold, he's put on deposit all the money needed to buy the next one.
Stymied on that front, we try to do something else--purchase the polyethelene bags that will hold the small quantities of kerosene. An old, rugged looking guy arrives at the kerosene depot after a five minute wait, carrying a very heavy bag filled with packets of baggies in a variety of sizes. Bargaining begins, all in Swahili. I can tell that the bargaining is not going well, at least for my side. The seller seems to think he has the edge. I whisper to Henry, "it's because I'm standing here," which he acknowledges. White people can afford to pay much higher prices, or at least that's what the seller is using as his bargaining strategy. He accurately assumes that I must be involved somehow, or I wouldn't be standing there. Henry tries to explain to him that the bags are not for me, but for Patrick. Somehow a price is arrived at that Henry deems fair, and then of course, I shell out the money ($3.87), living up to the stereotype: white people have the money.
We learn of a good price on the kerosene tank (1000 Kenyan shillings, or about $16), though it's sold at a shop near Bahati, our other teaching site. I decide that we can probably get our cab driver to pick it up for us during one of our daily trips. Then Patrick claims that he's already ordered the tank from elsewhere (meaning we're supposed to give him the money for it.) This was not in our plan (which was mainly to purchase his supplies, not give him any cash). So, we finally decide to give him the money for the tank, but not the money for his sign, and a few other things (all of these other things came to an amount equivalent to the cost of the tank). Instead, he'll have to produce the tank and the receipt before we go any further along in this business venture.
Before finishing for the day, we make Patrick sign a document acknowledging receipt of the money, and acknowledging that it's a loan which he must start paying off within a week, at $1.60 a week. At first he tries to beg that we give him a three-month grace period before he begins to repay the loan, but we do not budge. There is no interest charged. We tell him that if he misses any payments we will liquidate his assets to get our loan repaid. This is a high finance operation, afterall.
As I write this, I consider that maybe we should have just given the entire $160 away. Henry is a business consultant here in Nairobi, and I have a good salary in Canada. We have now spent 12 hours collectively trying to make sure we don't lose $160. And we're not even done. And, if I want to collect on the default, I may need to add on the cost of an airplane ticket to Nairobi. Or send Henry.
Mentoring entrepreneurs is hard work!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
We know Kung Fu
Two weeks of teaching has passed and I had a chance to teach a full day class - Financial Plan. Teaching is not as easy as I thought, it sure need lots of preparation and high level of concentration as students might as you many challenging questions. However, the hardest part is to teach basic accounting in only 1.5 hours. At the end of the class, they were supposed to know how to prepare the whole financial statement. Students in our class have different education background, some of them understand the concept right away, but some of them need more time to digest the information; it was not easy to make sure everyone understand within the tight timeframe. Another challenge for the students is to apply the financial plan to their own business. Preparing financial forecasts is one major component in our course. Our students are very hard working, they collected information from suppliers and competitors within few days. However, in Canada, market information is easily accessible by internet and databases. In Kenya, market information do not get centralized; therefore, it is very difficult for our students to estimate revenue. Also, almost everything is negotiable, and this makes revenue projection even harder as prices are different for each customers. Adding more time in lecturing financial plan would be necessary in the future.
Speaking of negotiation, I am becoming an expert through practice. We negotiate everyday. From cab fare to a bottle of water. I was shopping in Maasai Market - a market that only opens on Tuesdays and Saturdays and sells jewellery, crafts, arts, souveniors, etc.- for about 5 hours and almost 2 hours was spent on negotiating prices. I learned that if I am not sure to buy, I should not ask for the price. Once price is asked, the seller will follow and pursuade you until you make the purchase. Since I am obviously a tourist, they normally start the price ridiculously high. I was looking at a necklace and asked the price and the vendor listed 2750 shillings ( ~$45), i made an offer for 500 shillings ( ~$8) but he rejected. I left the kiosk and kept shopping. 15 minutes later, the vendor showed up again and I found out that he has been following us. We end up agreed the price at 700 shillings (~$12) after another 15 minutes negotiation. I learned the the trick to get lower price is to pretend walking away. When I was leaving the market, a local lady showed a Kung Fu pose to me. This remind me that Alvina was once asked in a local disco whether she knew Kung Fu and the kenyan wanted to learn from Alvina. Thanks to the movies, we individuals of Chinese descent were viewed as Kung Fu experts that can jump from wall to wall and roof to roof. One of my students in class even asked me if Kung Fu is in the curriculum in school as required subject to learn. Since it would be to my advantage, I did not deny that I don't know Kung Fu (in fact, I learned Tae Kwon Do).
I finally had a chance to visit Kibera on Friday. My first impression was that there were many people on the street. There is about 1 million people living in Kibera. We walked for about 30 minutes and were being stared by many people. I remembered that a website describe Kibera as a place a tourist should never go because you would be lucky if you come out in underwear. We were very cautious in Kibera, there was a local lady following us and asking for money, and many kids come up and ask for money as well. Kids were friendly, many would ask you "how are you?". Brent were approached by a little boy, he has some bottle caps in hand and we thought he was offering that to Brent as a gift. In fact, he was just pointing at Brent's camera and he wanted that. In Kibera, many people were struggling for money, even for kids. Kids can only see money in their eyes; they are like bamboon that live in Lake Nakuru, who look cute but have to be agressive in order to survive in this tough environment. Hopefully in the future life in Kibera can change and kids can get out from this poverty. SE101 would be a small step in helping this community to create more employment for better lives. When leaving Kibera, I saw one Asian lady walking by herself in Kibera, many of us was shocked but I guessed she will be fine since we Chinese know Kung Fu.
Speaking of negotiation, I am becoming an expert through practice. We negotiate everyday. From cab fare to a bottle of water. I was shopping in Maasai Market - a market that only opens on Tuesdays and Saturdays and sells jewellery, crafts, arts, souveniors, etc.- for about 5 hours and almost 2 hours was spent on negotiating prices. I learned that if I am not sure to buy, I should not ask for the price. Once price is asked, the seller will follow and pursuade you until you make the purchase. Since I am obviously a tourist, they normally start the price ridiculously high. I was looking at a necklace and asked the price and the vendor listed 2750 shillings ( ~$45), i made an offer for 500 shillings ( ~$8) but he rejected. I left the kiosk and kept shopping. 15 minutes later, the vendor showed up again and I found out that he has been following us. We end up agreed the price at 700 shillings (~$12) after another 15 minutes negotiation. I learned the the trick to get lower price is to pretend walking away. When I was leaving the market, a local lady showed a Kung Fu pose to me. This remind me that Alvina was once asked in a local disco whether she knew Kung Fu and the kenyan wanted to learn from Alvina. Thanks to the movies, we individuals of Chinese descent were viewed as Kung Fu experts that can jump from wall to wall and roof to roof. One of my students in class even asked me if Kung Fu is in the curriculum in school as required subject to learn. Since it would be to my advantage, I did not deny that I don't know Kung Fu (in fact, I learned Tae Kwon Do).
I finally had a chance to visit Kibera on Friday. My first impression was that there were many people on the street. There is about 1 million people living in Kibera. We walked for about 30 minutes and were being stared by many people. I remembered that a website describe Kibera as a place a tourist should never go because you would be lucky if you come out in underwear. We were very cautious in Kibera, there was a local lady following us and asking for money, and many kids come up and ask for money as well. Kids were friendly, many would ask you "how are you?". Brent were approached by a little boy, he has some bottle caps in hand and we thought he was offering that to Brent as a gift. In fact, he was just pointing at Brent's camera and he wanted that. In Kibera, many people were struggling for money, even for kids. Kids can only see money in their eyes; they are like bamboon that live in Lake Nakuru, who look cute but have to be agressive in order to survive in this tough environment. Hopefully in the future life in Kibera can change and kids can get out from this poverty. SE101 would be a small step in helping this community to create more employment for better lives. When leaving Kibera, I saw one Asian lady walking by herself in Kibera, many of us was shocked but I guessed she will be fine since we Chinese know Kung Fu.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Use only as directed by a physician
This week marked my inaugural visit to a hospital in Africa. I have had the misfortune of being sick in various locales, on a few continents. While such a statement may imply an inadequate immune system on my part, the fact of the matter is that I am rarely ill, and for that I am thankful.
I came down with what I self-diagnosed as a fever earlier in the week. While the team has occasionally wrestled with bouts of the sniffles, when I was in 4 blankets, a fleece, socks, and awake and freezing at 4:00 am, I decided I would get acquainted with the local medical facilities.
The first step in this process was deciding which clinic, hospital, or practitioner to visit. Luckily, a phone call to our gracious hosts from earlier in the visit (the Khan’s) reminded me that Qaisara’s father worked in administration at the Aga Khan University Hospital. It was suggested that I visit there. It turns out that the Aga Khan is the best (or second best, depending on whose views are sought) health care facility in Nairobi.
A short cab ride later, and I met Mickey (Qaisara's father), who led me through both the paperwork (surprisingly little) and the hospital (surprisingly large). I paid my consulting fee to see the physician (about $10), and about 20 minutes later I met Dr. Thorpe. She is an expat Brit who grew up with her time divided between Kenya and the UK, the latter of which was homebase for her medical education. No nurse, straight to the physician. This reminded me of my surgery in Mexico a number of years ago, where my surgery was performed by 3 physicians, no nurses, and I had outpatient care every second day after the surgery by, you guessed it, a physician. Try getting a doctor in North America to re-assess your wound after surgery every 48 hours for a week. But I digress.
Dr. Thorpe indicated that I did have a fever, red throat, and elevated heart rate, and prescribed me some basic painkillers, an anti-inflammatory, and some throat lozenges. She also ordered a blood test to rule out malaria, which is rare in urban areas. Total bill for all of the pills, about $4, for the blood test, about $9.
The blood test indicated that I had some bacteria or virus; I am sure it was more esoteric sounding, but the gist was that it wasn’t all that serious, and if I took my 17 pills a day (I am not exaggerating, but again I fear this makes it sound more serious than the situation warranted) I would be just fine. This total included an additional antibiotic that came in at a surprisingly high $18. Still not sure the deal there, but when all was said and done, I was $41 poorer for the best care (as defined by price), from a western-trained doctor (we’ll leave the debate as to how much this makes a difference, if any, for those more versed in public health than I) that Kenya had to offer. A side bar about the physician, though: if I paid $10 to the hospital to see her (and almost double for antibiotics), what was her cut? I am pretty sure it is clear that she is not in Kenya for the money…
There is also a medical facility near where I teach in Bahati. The building stands in sharp contrast to the Aga Khan. Its tin roof and benches give the impression that the building could house just about anything. I queried one of our students, who informed me that medical care there costs 20 shillings, or about 33 cents. I asked if he had ever visited, and he quickly said “no”. When pressed for a reason, he said (and I am paraphrasing) that medical care shouldn’t cost 20 shillings. He said he pays a figure close to what I paid to visit a doctor. However, every day when I pass, there is a small gathering in and around the clinic. Apparently there is sufficient demand. There is also a free public hospital in town, but the guidebook advises not to go there, as “you may leave with something worse than you came with”. When I think of the debate over two-tiered health care in Canada, the controversy seems so trivial when on the ground here, given that the resulting “tiers” would almost certainly never be as disparate as they are here. That being said, is a gap in quality or “levels” of public health ever acceptable when we are talking about human life? If you think that I am advocating or endorsing a particular ideology or trying to make a meaningful contribution to a philosophic debate (as I fear I am starting to sound like a bad op-ed piece), I assure you I am not and apologize for my miscommunication (or your misreading). It is just a blog.
Yesterday, I noticed that parts of my body were beginning to become quite itchy and red (I know, I am clearly the weak link on this trip). I consulted some of the other team members, who diagnosed the situation and recommended various remedies, one of which was a topical ointment that was great for these types of things. The only catch (well actually there were two): no one had any, and you needed a prescription. I embarked on a trip downtown in search of this elusive ointment. I did have a feeling that I could get some from a pharmacy, if I could find one stocking the goo. The first pharmacy had some, and like most medication here, it was over-the-counter. Same solution as Canada, but no prescription needed. As I applied the ointment to the affected area (which the pharmacist indicated was likely the result of an allergic reaction to one of the pills I was taking), I noticed the box: use only as directed by a physician….
I came down with what I self-diagnosed as a fever earlier in the week. While the team has occasionally wrestled with bouts of the sniffles, when I was in 4 blankets, a fleece, socks, and awake and freezing at 4:00 am, I decided I would get acquainted with the local medical facilities.
The first step in this process was deciding which clinic, hospital, or practitioner to visit. Luckily, a phone call to our gracious hosts from earlier in the visit (the Khan’s) reminded me that Qaisara’s father worked in administration at the Aga Khan University Hospital. It was suggested that I visit there. It turns out that the Aga Khan is the best (or second best, depending on whose views are sought) health care facility in Nairobi.
A short cab ride later, and I met Mickey (Qaisara's father), who led me through both the paperwork (surprisingly little) and the hospital (surprisingly large). I paid my consulting fee to see the physician (about $10), and about 20 minutes later I met Dr. Thorpe. She is an expat Brit who grew up with her time divided between Kenya and the UK, the latter of which was homebase for her medical education. No nurse, straight to the physician. This reminded me of my surgery in Mexico a number of years ago, where my surgery was performed by 3 physicians, no nurses, and I had outpatient care every second day after the surgery by, you guessed it, a physician. Try getting a doctor in North America to re-assess your wound after surgery every 48 hours for a week. But I digress.
Dr. Thorpe indicated that I did have a fever, red throat, and elevated heart rate, and prescribed me some basic painkillers, an anti-inflammatory, and some throat lozenges. She also ordered a blood test to rule out malaria, which is rare in urban areas. Total bill for all of the pills, about $4, for the blood test, about $9.
The blood test indicated that I had some bacteria or virus; I am sure it was more esoteric sounding, but the gist was that it wasn’t all that serious, and if I took my 17 pills a day (I am not exaggerating, but again I fear this makes it sound more serious than the situation warranted) I would be just fine. This total included an additional antibiotic that came in at a surprisingly high $18. Still not sure the deal there, but when all was said and done, I was $41 poorer for the best care (as defined by price), from a western-trained doctor (we’ll leave the debate as to how much this makes a difference, if any, for those more versed in public health than I) that Kenya had to offer. A side bar about the physician, though: if I paid $10 to the hospital to see her (and almost double for antibiotics), what was her cut? I am pretty sure it is clear that she is not in Kenya for the money…
There is also a medical facility near where I teach in Bahati. The building stands in sharp contrast to the Aga Khan. Its tin roof and benches give the impression that the building could house just about anything. I queried one of our students, who informed me that medical care there costs 20 shillings, or about 33 cents. I asked if he had ever visited, and he quickly said “no”. When pressed for a reason, he said (and I am paraphrasing) that medical care shouldn’t cost 20 shillings. He said he pays a figure close to what I paid to visit a doctor. However, every day when I pass, there is a small gathering in and around the clinic. Apparently there is sufficient demand. There is also a free public hospital in town, but the guidebook advises not to go there, as “you may leave with something worse than you came with”. When I think of the debate over two-tiered health care in Canada, the controversy seems so trivial when on the ground here, given that the resulting “tiers” would almost certainly never be as disparate as they are here. That being said, is a gap in quality or “levels” of public health ever acceptable when we are talking about human life? If you think that I am advocating or endorsing a particular ideology or trying to make a meaningful contribution to a philosophic debate (as I fear I am starting to sound like a bad op-ed piece), I assure you I am not and apologize for my miscommunication (or your misreading). It is just a blog.
Yesterday, I noticed that parts of my body were beginning to become quite itchy and red (I know, I am clearly the weak link on this trip). I consulted some of the other team members, who diagnosed the situation and recommended various remedies, one of which was a topical ointment that was great for these types of things. The only catch (well actually there were two): no one had any, and you needed a prescription. I embarked on a trip downtown in search of this elusive ointment. I did have a feeling that I could get some from a pharmacy, if I could find one stocking the goo. The first pharmacy had some, and like most medication here, it was over-the-counter. Same solution as Canada, but no prescription needed. As I applied the ointment to the affected area (which the pharmacist indicated was likely the result of an allergic reaction to one of the pills I was taking), I noticed the box: use only as directed by a physician….
Routines and Surprises
Like Nancy mentioned in the previous post, our team has really settled into a routine this week which probably does account for our lack of blog postings. Our second week of teaching ended with a bang as Art finally taught his first and final class! Despite his usually calm demeanor, Art did an energetic job of both entertaining the students and ensuring that they understood the fundamentals of Daily Operations. While it's sad that he's leaving our team today, we congratulate him as he embarks on a year-long opportunity to teach English in Japan!
At the Kibera site this week, our teaching team was really able to bond with the participants. On Wednesday of this week, instead of our usual afternoon mentoring session, Kevin and I were able to be part of an impromptu discussion on Kenyan politics, standard of living and current events with our students. By just listening to the discussion, I was able to learn so much about our students and their desire to effect change in their lives. I think that discussion really helped our teaching team understand a lot more about the background of our students and helped our class as a whole bond together. I found out that many of the students in our class did not know each other before the course. Yesterday, we had another opportunity to get to know our students better through the soccer/football game. One of our students is a soccer coach so he arranged a field and equipment for our class. It was an informal game but a great time of fun and bonding for all who participated.
Perhaps the most memorable this week was my conversation with one of the quietest students in our class during the walk back to the classroom from the soccer field. While we walked, she openly shared with me how her mother had passed away several years ago and that she was now living with a stepmother and taking care of her younger brothers and sisters. She was unable to finish school and had only completed up to Form 2. She told me how much she appreciated this course as it provided an opportunity for her to think differently and to be successful at business. Just knowing that we had made some difference in this young woman's life was enough to convince me that it was worth all the preparation and hours of hard work back home to come to Kenya.
I hope that the last week of teaching will be just as good as the last two. More updates soon!
At the Kibera site this week, our teaching team was really able to bond with the participants. On Wednesday of this week, instead of our usual afternoon mentoring session, Kevin and I were able to be part of an impromptu discussion on Kenyan politics, standard of living and current events with our students. By just listening to the discussion, I was able to learn so much about our students and their desire to effect change in their lives. I think that discussion really helped our teaching team understand a lot more about the background of our students and helped our class as a whole bond together. I found out that many of the students in our class did not know each other before the course. Yesterday, we had another opportunity to get to know our students better through the soccer/football game. One of our students is a soccer coach so he arranged a field and equipment for our class. It was an informal game but a great time of fun and bonding for all who participated.
Perhaps the most memorable this week was my conversation with one of the quietest students in our class during the walk back to the classroom from the soccer field. While we walked, she openly shared with me how her mother had passed away several years ago and that she was now living with a stepmother and taking care of her younger brothers and sisters. She was unable to finish school and had only completed up to Form 2. She told me how much she appreciated this course as it provided an opportunity for her to think differently and to be successful at business. Just knowing that we had made some difference in this young woman's life was enough to convince me that it was worth all the preparation and hours of hard work back home to come to Kenya.
I hope that the last week of teaching will be just as good as the last two. More updates soon!
Rules Apply
It has been a busy time in Nairobi, and I've noticed that the students haven't been as religious about filling in the blog as when they first arrived, and I too have not been writing as much as I might about our adventures. Some of it probably is accounted for by the fact that routine of sorts has set in, so there is an element of "same old, same old" for those of us on the ground, even if it might seem to our readers that we're in a highly unusual situation.
Perhaps the most amusing thing I can report on is yesterday's second annual UBC-Kenyan soccer matchup, a game held at each of our sites. It's not really UBC vs. Kenya, because there are not enough of us to make a team, so in fact it's two Kenya teams, each of which is handicapped by a few UBC participants. Last year I played team photographer. This year I arrived at the game to find I could not plead that role, as I'd left my "film" behind in my laptop when I was uploading pictures from my camera. Oops. That meant I had to play.
I'm sure that this next sentence will come as no surprise to many readers: I have never played soccer in my life. My general reaction to a ball of any size coming at me is to close my eyes and duck. Not the signs of a good soccer player. As the teams were dividing up, I could see everyone else anxiously awaiting my placement (we simply counted off 1, 2 to divide up). At least I didn't have to go through the humiliation of being chosen last. I might add that I'm about twice as old as the next oldest player.
Game started. I could not remember who was on which team (except I knew which team each of the UBC players was on). I didn't even know which end of the field was my team's, so I stopped one of the UBC students from the other team to get him to tell me. Which he kindly did.
My team, through no help of my own, got off to a quick 3-0 start. I managed to miss kicking the ball when it was stopped right at my feet, twice. (I could imagine doing the same thing in golf.) In the middle of the game I had to take a cell phone call (I don't even have a cell phone in Vancouver!). Yesterday was logistics day--trying to get myriad people from myriad places to a place where we would eventually converge later in the afternoon. While talking on the cellphone I actually managed to get my foot to connect with the ball, and gave it a good kick. I didn't even kick it in the wrong direction, though whether it was kicked in a helpful direction is less certain. Obviously I need the distraction of a cellphone to get me to connect with the ball.
Several minutes later, the ball comes toward me again, and I again give a faint kick. Seconds later, I see an intense argument going on nearby, in Swahili. Actually the entire game was conducted in Swahili, which didn't really help my ability to understand what was going on. I soon intuit that I've committed a foul. I can't tell if one of my teammates is more angry with me or the ref. The ref comes over to me and asks me which team I'm on. I have no idea (we didn't have team names, and we didn't have team shirts or anything). I tell him "not David's" because I know for sure I'm not on David's (one of the Kenyans) team. He tells me some rule about I can't kick the ball if my team has the ball. I have no idea why this might be true, and point out that I really don't know the rules of soccer, this being my first game. So, he looks at me very sweetly and says "no problem." Just when I think that the foul will be forgiven, he adds, with a pause, "Rules apply."
Shortly thereafter I exited the game of my own volition. Having become a liability to the team, and having a ref with no mercy meant that the only honorable thing I could do for my team (whoever they were) was to bow out. Shortly thereafter my team lost its lead, and the game ended 4-4, when we had to leave for our next appointment.
Maybe I was not such a handicap after all. And, though I don't know what they were told by the UBC students who were in the game with me, when I met up with our students from the other game later in the evening, the three of them greeted me with a sort of surprised "Nancy, we heard you played soccer today." I think they were a bit admiring in their tone. Or at least that's what I want to believe.
By the way, we have apparently agreed to end this tie next week, which means another opportunity for "clueless in soccer."
Perhaps the most amusing thing I can report on is yesterday's second annual UBC-Kenyan soccer matchup, a game held at each of our sites. It's not really UBC vs. Kenya, because there are not enough of us to make a team, so in fact it's two Kenya teams, each of which is handicapped by a few UBC participants. Last year I played team photographer. This year I arrived at the game to find I could not plead that role, as I'd left my "film" behind in my laptop when I was uploading pictures from my camera. Oops. That meant I had to play.
I'm sure that this next sentence will come as no surprise to many readers: I have never played soccer in my life. My general reaction to a ball of any size coming at me is to close my eyes and duck. Not the signs of a good soccer player. As the teams were dividing up, I could see everyone else anxiously awaiting my placement (we simply counted off 1, 2 to divide up). At least I didn't have to go through the humiliation of being chosen last. I might add that I'm about twice as old as the next oldest player.
Game started. I could not remember who was on which team (except I knew which team each of the UBC players was on). I didn't even know which end of the field was my team's, so I stopped one of the UBC students from the other team to get him to tell me. Which he kindly did.
My team, through no help of my own, got off to a quick 3-0 start. I managed to miss kicking the ball when it was stopped right at my feet, twice. (I could imagine doing the same thing in golf.) In the middle of the game I had to take a cell phone call (I don't even have a cell phone in Vancouver!). Yesterday was logistics day--trying to get myriad people from myriad places to a place where we would eventually converge later in the afternoon. While talking on the cellphone I actually managed to get my foot to connect with the ball, and gave it a good kick. I didn't even kick it in the wrong direction, though whether it was kicked in a helpful direction is less certain. Obviously I need the distraction of a cellphone to get me to connect with the ball.
Several minutes later, the ball comes toward me again, and I again give a faint kick. Seconds later, I see an intense argument going on nearby, in Swahili. Actually the entire game was conducted in Swahili, which didn't really help my ability to understand what was going on. I soon intuit that I've committed a foul. I can't tell if one of my teammates is more angry with me or the ref. The ref comes over to me and asks me which team I'm on. I have no idea (we didn't have team names, and we didn't have team shirts or anything). I tell him "not David's" because I know for sure I'm not on David's (one of the Kenyans) team. He tells me some rule about I can't kick the ball if my team has the ball. I have no idea why this might be true, and point out that I really don't know the rules of soccer, this being my first game. So, he looks at me very sweetly and says "no problem." Just when I think that the foul will be forgiven, he adds, with a pause, "Rules apply."
Shortly thereafter I exited the game of my own volition. Having become a liability to the team, and having a ref with no mercy meant that the only honorable thing I could do for my team (whoever they were) was to bow out. Shortly thereafter my team lost its lead, and the game ended 4-4, when we had to leave for our next appointment.
Maybe I was not such a handicap after all. And, though I don't know what they were told by the UBC students who were in the game with me, when I met up with our students from the other game later in the evening, the three of them greeted me with a sort of surprised "Nancy, we heard you played soccer today." I think they were a bit admiring in their tone. Or at least that's what I want to believe.
By the way, we have apparently agreed to end this tie next week, which means another opportunity for "clueless in soccer."
Monday, July 23, 2007
photoBLOG
Thank you all for your patience, we finally have the time to post some pictures from our busy days teaching! These pictures are from Kibera and we will soon upload photos from Kimathi and our weekend adventures.
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