old skool

you know you are old when you go back to school and your brain actually hurts.

i have been going to school for the past 2 weeks and have 2 more to go. i am taking a class called "training of facilitators" for people working in community based health care. it is jam packed with information and group work (we all know how fun that can be) and i am generally pretty tired by the end of the day. let me sum up what a typical day at school looks like. (i will combine details from different days for brevity).

I am staying with my friend Amanda in her townhouse not far from the training centre. I set my alarm for 6:30 so that i can get up and turn on the water heater for the bath. the heaters here are turned on manually so as to save money on gas. i crawl back into bed for another 30 minutes hoping for some good last minute dreams. after some cornflakes, i brew some coffee and put it in my spill proof starbucks coffee mug, throw it in my backpack, jump on my bike and start praying that i don't get killed. i have to fight my way through a throng of matatus all lining up outside the path from kibera (the slum) as thousands of people are heading to work. i head to the freeway and hope i don't make any permanent pitstops at the funeral home i pass each day. i whizz through the traffic circle and hope the cars think of me as one of them. as i pass the local airport a small private airplane takes off for its safari in maasai mara. i turn into the driveway of the training centre (African Medical and Research Foundation) oddly noting that on my right, not far away is an elementary school, straight ahead is a prison, and to my left is my school. on one particular fine morning they had the prisoners in their black and white striped outfits pruning the trees. one nearly fell out of the tree when he whipped around to loudly greet me. just another day in nairobi when you're "givin high fives" to the prisoners on the way to work...

i enter the classroom and start greeting in as many mother tongue languages i can remember. one of my classmates from kartoum, sudan, has taught everyone how to say good morning in arabic. when he sweeps in the room he shouts "saba alkier!" and you hear 25 people shout back "saba alnoor!" very enthusiastically. my classmates are from all over east africa, including kenya, sudan, and somalia. there are doctors, nurses, pharmacists, and clinical officers. they work for the red cross, cdc, goal, world vision among others. the experiences and stories are rich and varied.

it was decided as a group that every day be opened with prayer. this is such a change from a north american meeting. in what "secular" place would a meeting start with prayer? the interesting thing is, is that the class is not all protestant christians. there are muslims, christians, catholics (my neighbour is a nun), and total non-believers. we have prayed in english and arabic, to Jesus and to Allah. it is always an interesting start to the day.

we usually begin with a short lecture followed by group work. i usually start heated discussions in my group and sometimes we end up talking much more about other topics than our assignment (this should come as no surprise to people who know me). yet, we always seem to come up with some of the most comprehensive presentations. one of my group members likes to say that a group that bonds produces good work. so i guess we are bonding.

tea time and lunch break continue to be living classrooms for me. i learn more cultural lessons over a steaming cup or a plate of food than in the classroom. i have learned about "alternate uses" for coca cola and lemon juice, how the prostitutes in nairobi operate, that a woman in somalia garners a lot of respect and will rarely be shot in conflict, what a guy is really saying to me when he says "i love you so much, let's talk more" (i can be so naive) and so many other interesting things that are too numerous to list.

people are also fascinated with canada and often ask me what it would be like to study there, if people would stare at them on the street, if there are africans there, how cold it is... there is rarely a dull conversation. i get alot of comments that "you talk alot. but please don't stop. it's so interesting."

the day ends with me collecting all the evaluation forms and delegating the task to one of my co-students as I was elected to be the "evaluation form coordinator." a title i can put on my resume perhaps...

i retrieve my bike from behind the guards' building and ride beside my walking classmates. they express shock that i am riding a bicycle as opposed to a motorbike or car and think i am a bit crazy for riding in the same lanes as cars, but they heartily send me off with well wishes for safety.

i pass the herds of indingenous cows that are being herded by little maasai women or young men in leather jackets. no one, including myself, thinks it is odd to see 50 cows walking down a freeway in the middle of nairobi. i push myself up the hill desperately trying to stay ahead of the old man on a one speed bicycle who seems to have an effortless cadence. once in my friends large estate i ride by the drunk car minders who reach out their hands to give me five. i slap a few of their hands, figuring it is better to keep the throng of young, drunk men on my good side. but i change my pattern of coming and going everyday so as to avoid someone easily following me. sometimes i say a small prayer as i go by the boys and men who sniff glue and literally live in the garbage pile, eating our leftovers and finding treasures in our trash.

when i glide up to my friends front gate, i get out my giant key ring and start sorting out which key opens what lock. i undo the front gate and lock it from the inside. then i go through her laundry room, unlock another door where i store my bike. i unlock the two front doors and have to be sure to lock them again behind me (i NEVER locked my door in calgary). i dump my bag by the door, turn on the computer and check email and facebook. i watch a lame movie with my friend and crawl back into bed by 10. ready for another day of prisoner greeting, cultural learning, laughing over tea, and oh yeah, a little school too...