Profile of Host Mum: Mama Hope

 

My name is Purity and I am a school teacher. I teach class 2. I’ve been living in Njoro for the last 22 years. I was born in Nyeri and then went to school in Nairobi, I joined the teacher training and was placed in Molo for 2 years. What motivated me to follow the profession of teaching was my own teachers. I loved the way they taught us and dealt with us and showed loved to us. To me they were role models. Even when I was a small girl I aspired to be a teacher. The first time I entered a classroom in Nairobi I was nervous but the moment I started interacting with children I enjoyed it as I instantly connected with them. That moment I knew I wanted to be doing teaching for the rest of my life. I still have the same passion for children even today after so many years of teaching. When I work with children I can sometimes put myself into trouble as I can forget that I am a teacher and see my pupils as my own children. People complain that I am too close to them so I somehow have to distance myself and get back into my profession.

 

Apart from young children, I feel a strong connection with the youth, young adults. Initially, I found it hard working with teenagers but once you understand them, adjust yourself and lower yourself to their level they can really appreciate you and open up and express anything that disturbs them. Not all teenagers have people they can interact with and understand them. I have discovered that I am able to come down to their level and discuss their issues between us. I have children of my own who are currently teenagers and I find it easy to cope with them because I see them as my friends. Once you present yourself as a friend to them they can tell you about anything that disturbs them, their likes and dislikes.  My children and I interact like people in the same age and as a result, themselves and their friends come to me and tell me stories about them and their parents. It’s not hard to work with teenagers as long as you understand them, be there for them and never judge them.

 

My passion for working with the youth led to my decision to sign up to the Balloon programme and become a host parent to volunteers in Njoro. I thought I’d give it a try as I was interested in the idea of living with a person from a completely different culture. I have previously interacted with people from different Kenyan tribes and found myself interested in getting to know their way of life, their behaviours, their eating habits.

 

I am currently hosting 2 female volunteers in my home, a Kenyan and UK volunteer. Once somebody comes into our household I have to make them feel comfortable, feel at home and not stressed.  I love the word of God that talks about how to love one another; I try to apply this way of thinking with my guests.  I am very excited to be hosting someone from a different country. Initially, I was nervous about the person’s habits and especially their diet. How could I make sure they were happy with the food I offered them? Would they eat ugali, sweet potatoes or githeri? I had to ask my colleagues or previous host parents for their advice. What if the white people don’t even cook? However, things turned out better than I thought. I am getting along very well with the current volunteers so far. It could be the case that I was very lucky to have volunteers who adjust so well.

 

My advice to future host parents is to love the young people as they become part of your home.  The first day they enter your house let them know who you are, what you want and what you don’t want done so you set the ground rules. It is vital to adjust to their needs because they come in as your own children. Once you understand their needs then you can assist them the way you should. By hosting them they will learn from you. It is not a big deal if you have children of your own. Accept them the way they are and you’ll be able to share a home together.

Another Cheesy Lovesong

The theme for one of our 'Peer Support and Learning' sessions was music and we got the opportunity to make our own songs...

 

Fredrick's Journey

Fredrick was not our favourite entrepreneur. Far from it. He runs a 'mali mali shop', which sell electrical items. This type of shop is common locally and didn't seem particularly innovative to us. Nevertheless, when we suggested creative ways of distinguishing himself from the competition Fredrick didn't seem interested. Indeed, it was very hard to engage him at all. The first problem was that he doesn't speak English and so the Swahili speakers in the team have to work twice as hard by fulfilling the role of translators. Actually, translating was something they would have liked to have done more of, since Fredrick didn't say much at all, even when asked direct questions. For instance, when asked broadly about his skills, he swiftly shut the conversation down by claiming not to have any. With such a lack of cooperation, we knew it would be hard to get his business off the ground and felt like visiting him was becoming an increasingly poor use of our time. It was after one such frustrating session, in which we felt that little progress had been made, we were getting ready to leave, gathering papers and swinging bags onto our backs when Fredrick stopped us. "Before you go, can I tell you my story?" We were hardly going to refuse such as request, so we settled down, made ourselves comfortable and vainly hoped that there would still be enough time for lunch before our next meeting. Fredrick explained that his childhood hadn't been an altogether happy one. After marrying and establishing a family of 8 children, Fredrick's father had taken a second wife and forced the first wife (Fredrick's mother) to leave along with his eldest sister. Fredrick was now the oldest child in the household. The new wife, a witch doctor, was not popular with any of the children and before long there were disagreements in the household. Fredrick's father blamed Fredrick for this and demanded that Fredrick too should leave the home. Furthermore, the condemned child was to give back everything that his father had ever given him. Fredrick therefore set out into the world owning not even any items of clothing. It was necessary to drop out of school at this stage in order to earn money and so Fredrick started working as an Agrovet. At the tender age of 16 his formal education had come to an untimely conclusion and suddenly his uncommonly low level of English fluency didn't seem so unreasonable to us. Despite the animosity shown to him, Fredrick kept in touch with his family. If at all possible, he wanted to repair the damaged family relationship. As a young adult his father remained an important role model to him and like most children he respected his dad's parental guidance, advice and opinion. Fredrick was ambitious. He worked hard to impress his employer, rent a house and save up some money on the side. His real dream was to learn to drive. Although he didn't know much about how to go about achieving this, his father did and had offered to help. When enough money was saved up, Fredrick left his job, took the money to his father and was promised help in arranging the lessons. However, this help never came. Fredrick waited patiently at first, but after 2 months he realised that he had been duped. His dad and stepmother had taken the fund and spent it on themselves. Fredrick was now back where he had started: no savings, no job and, given that he could no longer pay rent, no house. Nevertheless he had been such a good employee and reliable tenant in the past that both employer and landlord were willing to welcome him back. He returned to the Agrovet and after some time undertook a new job at a mali mali shop. This is when he got the idea to open his own. As before, Fredrick diligently started saving his wages. When he had a respectable fund, he went to a Savings and Credit Co-Operative (SACCO) to ask for a loan. At first they wouldn't take him seriously and told him they couldn't consider him without a shop. A few days later Fredrick returned, he had bought a shop, but needed a loan to help fully stock it. Again the SACCO sent him away, he was a shop owner but how could they trust him with an investment, he had no knowledge of handling money. A few days later Fredrick was back and presented an impeccable set of detailed financial records. The SACCO were impressed, they couldn't fault the resources, the capability, or the dedication of this man and on that basis, felt confident to invest in him. Fredrick was granted a loan at an extremely low rate of interest. Furthermore, during his visits to the SACCO Fredrick had come to the attention of a man named John, a Program Coordinator at a certain company named Balloon Ventures... We shifted our weight uncomfortably. Hearing this story made us feel like we had been too quick to write Fredrick off as an uncooperative and unimaginative entrepreneur. Sure he may not have the Balloon mindset, but that's because we haven't taught it to him yet. It may also be true that he doesn't have any formal skills, just as he initially told us, but it's clear that he has the determination and motivation required to make his business a success - and that's something no one can teach. Leaving the shop, we turned back to look at it. Although it's just one of many mali mali stores, we noticed for the first time that it's the neatest and best maintained shop on the street. It's amazing what you can miss when you're in the wrong frame of mind. If this experience has taught us anything it's not to judge a book by its cover. Going forwards I'll try to read a few chapters first, or in plain English, I'll consciously take more time to form an opinion. After all, people may surprise you and it's important to persevere until they get the opportunity to do so.

Patrick's Birthday

We always hang out at the same restaurant, 'Flying G'. So this video was taken when we discovered that one of the waiters was celebrating a birthday and we wanted to surprise him.

 

A Kenyan's guide to London and the UK

This article is a story of Felix Owino and his first trip to London to attend the Youth Summit 2015. He was selected by VSO to represent Kenya amongst a great number of people thanks to the numerous youth, health and educational projects he had taken part in.

 

The first time I heard his story, I found fascinating the culture shock he went though whilst integrating with British culture and the big city of London.  I decided to interview him and find out more of what he found shocking or surprising during his stay there – little things that the Brits might take for granted but Kenyans see it in a whole different way. Let this be Felix’s guide to London:

 

Heathrow is a place where the whole world meets – Also, expect to be stopped at border control

 

 “When I first landed to Heathrow Airport I was flabbergasted by the diversity of passengers and commuters. People from all over the world were gathered in one space – astonishing.

 

It took me about 2 hours to go through the borders, where my details were being checked and I got asked a lot of questions. A lot of things went through my mind when going through that process but in the end I was let go.

 

Someone was meant to pick me up at the Arrivals section but with no working phone to call – I panicked. I looked around me to ask for help but was hesitant to ask in case I was being judged, as a completely new person to this country.  Amongst the crowd I spotted someone holding a Kenyan passport! I felt instant joy that I could speak in Swahili with him and not be misunderstood by my accent.

 

To my relief, I found my guide called Lucy and we made our way out of the airport”

 

The UK is green; much greener than I expected

 

“I felt the cold instantly as soon as I stepped out of the airport, even if that time of the year was considered warm for the British public.

 

The car journey was an eye- opening experience to me. There was so much green everywhere! The green land was filled with sheep and other animals enjoying the fresh grass. I really felt good for them compared to the dry grass the animals have to feed on back in Kenya. I asked Lucy what was the purpose of these animals. She explained to me the sheep were left in the field to feed on the grass and that the wool was being used for clothing. From a Kenyan’s perspective, an animal serves a purpose and that is to be slaughtered and eaten.

 

These animals called deer also captured my attention. I couldn’t understand why people wouldn’t touch them. They looked so nice!”

 

The road systems and people minding their own business

 

“My journey to the VSO Offices in London was a 45 minute drive from Heathrow airport.

 

As we approached London, I was looking forward to seeing big buildings. That was the vision I had in mind. I saw people riding bicycles, getting in and out of their bungalow houses. What struck was how quiet the environment was; very calm. People were almost not talking to each other and minding their own business. That was almost opposite to what a Kenyan community is like.

 

We finally approached the more urban area of London and I could see people being quite busy and driving.

 

As we were walking with Lucy noticed how strict the road systems were. She was crossing the road very carefully, only when the traffic light system allowed her to. I found the rules quite supressing.”

 

How to shower in the UK

 

“As we made our way into the hotel, I was asked if I wanted to shower after my long journey. I immediately replied yes.

 

The thing that concerned me was that I am used to using a scrubber when I shower. All I was given was a towel and some sort of liquid soap. I was about to ask her for a scrubber but then I realised I was not in Kenya!

 

 ‘Is that all I am getting?’ I asked her. She said ‘Yes, that’s all you need. Go ahead and use the shower.’ I went ahead and entered the office showers. It was weird for me not using anything to scrub my body with. I felt like I wasn’t getting any cleaner. Instead, I used lotion and oil.”

 

Accent is a huge challenge

 

“The VSO office was huge and a lot of people were there. I was expected there as I arrived late.

 

I was surprised to see my biography all over the wall with all my experience and photos of me documented. People were interested in my background and experience so they came up to me asking questions. The accent was intense and they spoke too fast. I could hardly understand them! The good thing was that the context involved myself so I would just respond to what I’ve done without even understanding the questions fully. I tried to avoid them asking me more questions but trying to think of what they would ask me at the same time.  Moreover, all white people looked the same to me!

 

I was offered coffee, which tasted disgusting. It came in some sort of powder form. I moved on to the snacks for something sweeter. Strawberries were the lifesaver.”

 

Weird food everywhere!

 

“Once the first day was over I was told to have some time to rest and then meet downstairs for dinner at 6 pm. 6 pm? That was so early.

 

As I was very tired from the trip, I accidently overslept so someone came upstairs looking for me. I changed clothes very fast and made my way downstairs to go to Zizzi’s for dinner.

 

When we got into the restaurant I was asked to choose what I wanted. I was too confused with the weird menu. There was nothing on the menu that I could recognise. I decided to wait for people to order their food first and choose from what I could see being served. The food looked very unfamiliar to me. I was concerned of ordering something in case I didn’t like it and it went to waste. I asked my fellow Africans for advice who kind of understood the menu and decide to order something safe. Chicken sounded like the safest of option at that time.”

 

Exploring London

 

“Amongst my busy schedule with VSO I had the opportunity to explore London and get to live the London way for a couple of days.

 

The underground (or tube how Londoners call it) was a very confusing experience. We were given Oyster cards and were told to take good care of them, as they were our form of paying for transport. It was surprising to me how there was no other way in or out of the station but the doors with the barriers. It was scary how swiftly they’d close behind you as soon as you walk through them.

 

We had the opportunity to visit museums; one of them was the Natural History Museum. Seeing the size of dinosaurs through their skeletons was very exciting. Even the building itself was an artwork.

 

Buckingham Palace was one of the historical landmarks that was on our list to visit. What raised my eyebrows was, how could such a guarded building with the royalties staying inside be so open to the public? There were tons of tourists around taking pictures with selfie sticks of the guards with the tall hats and red suits. In Kenya, buildings like that are completely closed from the public.

 

We later visited a pub to unwind from our busy schedule. But to my surprise the doors were closed. My friends pushed the doors to get through. Why would someone have to struggle to get into a pub?

 

We sat down and then had to walk to the bar to order our drinks. How come didn’t anyone come up to us to take orders? As the bartender was preparing the drinks he poured the beer through a pump, which was connected to a tank. I have never seen beer coming from a tank and then being served into a huge glass. It was called a pint as my fellow Londoners called it. The beer was very cold and fresh. The glass was covered in droplets, which gives you an idea of how cold it was. I very much enjoyed drinking ice-cold beer.”

 

A trip to remember

 

“My trip to London was one to remember. I am very happy I had this unique experience that I even dreamt of having. This was a Kenyan’s experience in London. What will yours be?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hot Cross Buns

I got the idea to make hot cross buns for my host family at Easter. Unfortunately, I was too busy at the time and so it’s taken me until today to make this happen.

 

My host family were initially very impressed at the idea. They particularly liked the fact that a ‘Muzungu’ (white person) would acknowledge the significance of Jesus on the cross.  I didn’t like to correct this view and say that nearly EVERYONE in the UK enjoys the excuse to eat hot cross buns at Easter, regardless of faith.

There were 3 of us who had taken on the challenge of baking today; 2 were suffering debilitating hangovers and 1 had an oven in her host home. Perfect.

The day started easily enough when I went round the supermarket to stock up on ingredients. It’s a bit hard to know how many grams of sugar ‘3/4 cup’ is, but I managed. Luckily for me none of the Kenyans have had hot cross buns before and so they won’t know if I mess up!

                                                                                                                                                            

The more I cook in Kenya the more I learn. The egg shells here are tough, for instance, and so in order to crack an egg, you should tap it against the wall rather than the plastic mixing bowl. It feels quite counter intuitive, and I’m sure my UK-mother would be alarmed, but it’s much more effective. The recipe also required a lot of kneading. It’s not something I’ve ever had to do much of before and I would have been very unconfident if it were not for the fact that two of my entrepreneurs have patiently taught me to knead dough within the past month (one was a baker and I was learning his trade, the other wanted to find an activity I could do with his mother), both believed themselves to be my first teacher (clearly I was a slow learner!). It was nice to be able to put these skills to good use and soon our dough was looking nice and smooth 

After 2 rounds of kneading and leaving the current filled dough to prove while naps were taken, we were ready to put the 19 spiced balls of dough in the oven on gas mark 3 (although I can’t be 100% sure about this as I know very little about gas marks, it may be that 3 was a poor guess). Lighting the oven was a bit of a faff because it made us so nervous to put our hands inside a flammable gas chamber while holding a lit match. Worse still, the oven kept going out once we turned the gas all the way down to gas mark 3 and cockroaches continued running out which was quite off-putting. Presumably they weren’t enjoying the gas chamber either (although I’m glad they were running away from the baking tray – it seems like the most hygienic direction).

Very little cooking time had elapsed when the oven ran out of gas and everything came to an abrupt halt. My host by now was fast asleep on her sofa and we didn’t like to disturb her more than necessary so we decided to take a couple of still squishy buns to a nearby house with a microwave. We were welcomed there by the friendly resident volunteer-host-mother (Elizabeth) and given a cheerful lesson in how to operate the necessary appliance. She appeared to have a great deal of faith in our ability to bake bread in her microwave; which was good, at least someone did.

3 minutes later the microwave pinged and we took out a piping hot bun. I know that microwaves tend to cook from the inside out and so although the outside didn’t look cooked (the cross was barely visible – it was white against beige) we felt that it might taste good inside. We burnt our fingers investigating this and were surprised to find that the inside was actually like toast. (There’s a reason we don’t microwave sandwiches back home and this is it). We were just about to put a second one in for a shorter amount of time (alternative options were few!) when the power cut out. This is not uncommon in Kenyan households but it’s not unannoying either. Now we really were challenged.

The first thing to do was make a list of people we knew nearby with ovens. The list was quite long, but when we made a few enquiries we found that not a single one of these ovens were operative! There was one family we knew with a functioning oven that lived a good distance away and eventually we resorted to asking them if we could visit (it was that or try and cook the buns in a borrowed toaster and I wanted to keep that as a very last resort). However, when I got in touch I was dismayed to find that their oven was electric and, while this meant there would be no more trouble with gas marks, it was also the case that we still couldn’t be helped until the power came back. I decided to sit it out and waited for the power. It came on at my side of town at about 5pm, dusk was at 6:30pm and I didn’t get news that light was back at the oven side of town until 7pm. I was beginning to lose my sense of humor at this point. Hot cross buns were more trouble than they were worth. Walking around after dark here is not advisable, particularly if you are a lone female with pasty white arms glowing like a beacon advertising your presence. I stomped off to my various friend’s houses to find the trays of buns I had stranded in everyone’s kitchens. Firstly to my friend with the exhausted gas oven (no luck, her house was locked) and then to Elizabeth’s house with the tray of buns in her microwave…if only I could identify her gate. I did eventually find a house that looked like hers. I would have been more confident if it were not for the rawkus female voices I could hear inside as I knocked hesitantly on the door – I’m sure that the homeowner I’d come to meet was quite a quiet lady. I felt such relief as Elizabeth opened the door and invited me in. As I was ushered into the kitchen I saw Jane, another host-mum and owner of the kitchen I had occupied earlier in the day. The ladies were having a wonderful time. Theirs were the clamorous voices I had heard on the doorstep. They were very pleased to see me and amazed me by opening the oven door to ask me if the buns were ready yet. I didn’t even know Elizabeth had a functioning oven! Actually, as it transpired, nor did she until Jane had come over and decided to use it, thereby turning it on for the first time since it had been purchased. It turned out that they had been trying to get hold of me for some time in order to ask me to help them know when the buns were done.

 

Two very happy ladies

It seemed to me that I’d arrived at the perfect time, just as everything was looking nicely browned. I was wrong again (of course – why change a winning theme). As I ignorantly offered to prepare these two wonderful ladies the first taste, I picked up a bun, knife in hand, ready to cut it in half, and realized that only the top half was cooked. The bottom was still cold and doughy. That was unexpected.

 

What I hadn’t appreciated is that what we had was not an oven so much as a grill, so it was necessary to turn every bun upside-down in order to cook the bottoms too. Unorthodox but effective.

As we waited for the buns to finish, volunteers began to fill the house, joining the host mums and me. By the time the batch was ready there were 9 mouths to feed, 5 of which had never tasted this Eastertime classic before. It pleased me so much to slather my UK traditions in melted butter and share them with my Kenyan friends that I very nearly forgot the stress I’d gone through to produce it.

My host sister wants me to cook her pizza next week. I’m not sure I can cope.

 

 

Our School Visit

When we first met James up in the beautiful hills of Ngongongeli, he showed us his little roadside shop, his family home, his aunt's house, the adjoining village and primary school. This might sound like an excessive tour, but this is the kind of in-depth introduction that we understand forms the bonds of trust between people here. It allows us to go on to be good business partners. My team consists of two UK and one Kenyan volunteers. White people are rarely seen in these parts and so the presence of both UK volunteers therefore caused some excitement. In the school this excitement reached a crescendo as we reached a human roadblock of some 300 children all eager to greet us and jostling to shake our pasty hands. This isn't Britain, there is no queuing culture, just a great many exceptionally friendly school children crowding to touch us. I have never formally greeted so many people in such a short space of time, and I probably never will again. Suddenly the lively crowd quietened and melted away as fast as it had formed, respectfully signalling the approach of a teacher. He greeted us cordially (which I thought was generous considering the disruption we were causing in his playground) and took us to the deputy head teacher's office. I reflected that it had been a very long time since I'd sat waiting in such a room. It's nice not to be in trouble for once. When the deputy arrived I received yet another hand shake, we were all seated, and got down to business. "Now let's discuss what you can do for the school...we are very short of text books" I'm not sure what I expected, but this certainly wasn't it. I'd love to help the school, to teach, to entertain, or to fundraise, but I've already got my hands rather full with 5 equally deserving entrepreneurs and a very different cause. Incidentally, as a volunteer who let my job in the UK in order to be here I'm also broke. Luckily for the school, my companions weren't equally daunted. We discussed the possibilities and committed ourselves to tree planting and classroom visit from all the Balloon volunteers based in Njoro. This was the kind of arrangement that suited everyone (none more so than the local sapling seller), so the following week we bought 60 young trees and trouped back to the school with the rest of the Balloon team. We didn't get quite the same reception as the previous week (which is probably just as well) but on seeing us arrive the older children keenly dug holes in which to plant the seedlings. It was at precisely this point I realised I didn't know much about tree planting and wasn't in a position to entertain an audience while doing so (I wonder if the Queen had this problem the first time she was required to initiate digging of foundations). Fortunately we discovered that we had some as yet under-utilised agricultural expertise on the Balloon team, and these volunteers were able to teach the rest of us by demonstrating with the first tree. Then children and volunteers scattered alike to plant the rest of the saplings. We lined the path to the school with the plants and hope that they'll have a driveway shaded by healthy boughs in the future. As I write this story I'm currently sat on a stool in James' tiny wooden shop sheltering from the rain. If nothing else I'm glad the seedlings are getting watered. Next was a classroom visit. We went in mixed groups so that the children all got to meet a range of volunteers: males and females from both the UK and around Kenya. To my immense relief they were well behaved and sat at their desks ready to listen to what we wanted to tell them. Precisely what we did tell them was mixed, depending on the interests of the volunteers in each classroom. Some encouraged them to work hard, some told them not to be distracted by relationships, but my class were told that they could be anything they wanted to be. They heard stories of the Balloon entrepreneurs and the ways in which these business people had overcome challenges to achieve the unexpected. Who knows, maybe we will have some entrepreneurs of the future here.