Opportunity

Opportunity. It is a word we have often taken for granted in the U.S. as so many of our lives have been blessed with unbelievable opportunities: great job opportunities, amazing graduate school choices, travel options, where we want to live, what we want to be, how hard we want to work to get there. Students in Muhuru have never seen many of these opportunities come before them; they have taken what they can get, opting for lives as subsistence farmers, young wives, and young parents. When faced with new opportunities, however, the possibilities are endless.

I had the chance to visit every primary school this past week to provide the students with notebooks, textbooks, copies of tests, and certificates for the highest performing students. In my three years of teaching in Harlem and running around schools of the South Bronx, I have never seen children so overjoyed when given school supplies. I have never seen students get up on desks and yell for the chance to review for an exam. I have never seen teachers so elated when being given gradebooks. The students and teachers of Muhuru have been given a new opportunity through the very idea of increasing their KCPE scores, through the supplies they have been provided by WISERBridge, and most importantly, through the presence of WISER.

I cannot think of anyone that exemplifies this opportunistic spirit more than Carolyne Gorf, a student at the most isolated primary school, located on a large hill overlooking the Lake, Ibencho. Carolyne is 36 years old, a mother, a wife, speaks great English, and is a WISERBridge pupil. This means that at the ripe age of 36 she decided to return to Class 8 (the equivalent of 8th grade) so that she has another shot at high school, so that she has the opportunity of going to WISER. While Carolyne only received a 197 out of 500 on the WISERBridge Preliminary Exam, her determination and her discipline will no doubt make her a top student this year. Her son, 13 years old, is also a student in the same Grade 8 class. His mother and he even share an English review textbook. Their eyes have opened to new opportunities – he will improve his KCPE score and opt for a better school than Rabwao Secondary, she will work hard to enter the WISER compound come January.

What Carolyne teaches us and what she has demonstrated to everyone in he small community on top of a hill is that if an opportunity presents itself, no matter if it is the chance to run a business, the choice of studying with solar-paneled lights, or the opportunity to “receive an excellent education,” as we say in Teach For America, you take it. And as Mama Eunice says, “You just go.” You run with it. No matter how far, no matter how difficult, and no matter how many years you have let pass before it came. The people of Muhuru have seen the opportunities of WISER, and they are taking them to a new level.

Progress...

Progress(?).  That is the first word that comes to my mind and the first question I ask myself when I wake up under my mosquito net with the rain pattering on the tin roof of my hut in the morning. Are we progressing? And as I sat in front of a computer screen yesterday, in a cement hut, paraffin lanterns off, generator on, iHome plugged in, and a room full of children and adults entranced by the movie The Notebook on a 14-inch computer screen, I whispered to myself, “Yes, we are.”



A part of me felt that it was wrong to do that, to expose the people of Muhuru to the technology, to the distractions, to the complications we have in the U.S. I wanted them to stay so pure and untouched as I had created the schema of Africans to be in my head. I wanted life to remain simple.



Why do we try to fight progress? Why are we so fearful of its components? Maybe it is the same reason we choose to start something new, to end relationships before they become “too much,” to be weary of trans-Atlantic love affairs. And maybe it’s why entrepreneurs in developing countries focus on piecemeal projects, a little light here, a little building there, a little water here, a little bit of books there, instead of the whole the whole village, the whole problem, human being. If we keep progressing, we keep getting in too deep, we keep making things a bit more complicated…



And yet, after being in Kenya going on three months, I am still stuck on a seemingly contradictory question I consistently ask myself. It pops into my head every time we drive into town and Lake Victoria appears at the horizon, flashing her magnificent blue, large mountains looming in the distance, “Why is this placed NOT developed?” Perhaps I need to change my bias of what development even is, perhaps I need to think about the meaning of running water, of gridded electricity, of easy access, of convenience, of fast food, of “now.” Maybe there is more progress here than I can see. Maybe I see progress in absolute terms and outcomes instead of the growth I see all around me.



In fact, the progress I have seen in two months in Muhuru Bay, is more than I saw in a year in New York. Sometimes I feel as if this community gains decades in a single day. In a few days, hundreds of families received access to light for the very first time, using a small metal panel and the power of the sun. In just two days, the first preliminary exams were administered to 450 students hungry to know where they stood in terms of academic performance, and for the first time, the teachers of this community could actually sit down and analyze an exam. In just one day, poles for gridded electricity appeared in town with crowds of people mesmerized by workers connecting metal cables across a small dirt road. In one eventful bus trip, a copy machine, capable of distributing mass amounts of information was brought into a community that writes everything by hand. In a few hours, two students learned to input information into an excel file, using shortcut keys that took me years to figure out. (The power of Control C!) In just a half an hour, a community’s fate in running water was determined by an open-minded man at a UNICEF office. And in countless moments and numerous decisions and innovations made in the minds of hopeful officials, teachers, students, and family members, this community pushes forward, to progress and to move. We are progressing.



So. As I look out my wooden-shuttered window, writing furiously and racing the sun before it sets, I feel more certain than ever that the students in Class 8 will reach their goal. Imagine a community empowered to take action and improve the educational standard, to actually believe me when I say that their scores will increase by more than 50%, to actually teach through a nation-wide strike despite fears of looting and rioting, to actually organize a movement to buy solar-powered lights so that schools become havens of light in which to study, to actually become elated at the idea of breaking down test questions into standards in order to analyze their students’ results; imagine a community empowered to innovate, to create, to progress past the ideas of the past that have oppressed Africans, convincing themselves that they were corrupt, unethical, wild, barbaric, undeveloped, needy, uncivilized… imagine people coming to the realization that Africans, indeed, have the drive, motivation, innovation, ability, resources, collaboration, and high expectations to progress, that they are the same, if not, more advanced in their thinking about developing the educational standards, that Africans’ ideas and hopes are limitless.



My mama here, Mama Eunice, often tells me, “Mama knows best.” She knows when I am hungry, sad, happy, tired, need a wash; she is able to read when I am feeling anxious. Perhaps what she has taught me is a simple lesson in progress. While I may have been too busy, too distracted, or even too fearful to listen to and take care of my body’s needs, I needed a little voice to tell me to remember… She does not necessarily “know best,” but rather, she reminds me to listen to myself. While I do not know what is best for Kenyan school children and while I may read the situation wrong at times, maybe I am like Mama Eunice’s voice, whispering in the ears of the teachers that they know what is best for their children, and maybe I simply remind them that they know how and can keep moving forward. We can, and do, and will progress. Maybe we just need to open our eyes to how much is possible.

BlackBerrys Before Water

Many of my friends and family have realized something very strange about my situation in Muhuru.  While I shower out of a bucket with water provided by good ol’ Lake Victoria (heated using a wood fire and transported by donkey, of course), I can easily gchat with a friend in New York while walking three miles home on a rocky, dirt road.  Yes, I have a BlackBerry in Kenya.

Several months ago in Muhuru Bay, Safaricom, a huge cell service company, built a tower atop one of the hills over looking the lake.  “How is a cell tower possible if you don’t have electricity?” you ask.  Generators.  Big, loud generators powered by diesel fuel.  “And how do people charge their phones if they don’t have anywhere to plug them in?” you ask.  Easy – our hut is one place. There are a few other families with solar powered generators, and a few scattered petrol powered generators that charge Sh 20 per charge.

So, believe it or not, we have BlackBerry devices in this tiny fishing village before we have running water.  Isn’t it strange how development works?

I have a theory. Cell phones have begun to revolutionize Muhuru. People need to charge their phones… they purchase solar. People want computers so that they can browse the internet. They have begun to realize that they are CONNECTED to the world outside of Muhuru, and they want to be more connected. It is almost as if, in this tiny town without a paved road, without gridded electricity, we are skipping decades, even centuries of development, moving straight to the part that matters the most – our connection to the people around us – calling them, emailing them our precious thoughts, and gchatting with them when we wish to communicate.

I could go into a full analysis of how the past 150 years of development in the west has materialized us, has alienated us from each other, and has even hardened our abilities to love and unite with other human beings. (AKA “the Ipod Phenomenon. Leave me alone, I’m listening to my Ipod.”) But what I am seeing here in Africa is that our consciousness as human beings may, in fact, be moving to a new level, one of strength, one of understanding, one of unity. We are longing to connect.

Carol Calls

When I met Carol, she immediately came up to me and asked me if I could help her. Her story is all too common here in AIDS-affected Africa, and I felt so bad for her after hearing her story. She is an orphan, 19 years old, and never graduated from secondary school. She currently lives with a close friend that she calls a sister, with her 6-month year old child. Carol calls me every single day. Sometimes 5 times a day. Sometimes even more. She is DESPERATE to have her school fees paid for by anyone that will help her.

I promised myself I could not and would not help everyone. I came to help serve the community, not provide them with money, and had Carol been one of the girls that I interact with daily, I would have undoubtedly helped her right then and there. I do not know her very well, but I have gotten to know her persistence and relentless drive to finish secondary school through the endless phone calls that she insists on making to me.

She asked me to help her find someone in the states to sponsor her. So, this blog is an advertisement for Carol’s schooling. She told me that it costs her 8,000 Kenyan Shillings each year to continue with primary school, and this is equivalent to $100 US. If boarding is included, which she wants it to be, it will cost about 23,000 Sh or a little under $300. If you have ever wondered whether you could actually make a difference in one girl’s life, now is your chance… I have the capacity to meet with Carol, give her the money and connect you to her. I feel incredibly bad for her, and know that she would be so grateful for a year’s schooling contribution.

Please email me if you would like to sponsor her. tmaravig@gmail.com I will put you in touch with her immediately by phone, if you would like. I know she would be absolutely delighted.

Surprisingly Normal

Since many are interested, I will share the most shocking thing about being in Kenya. It is not the lack of running water or electricity, nor the unpaved roads, congas, or lack of stoves that is the most shocking. What I have found to be the most shocking thing about being here is how surprisingly normal things are and have become after adjusting.

I thought about it yesterday as I was gchatting with one of my friends from New York, telling her that I had to go because the sun was setting. Every night before bed, I scramble to get my things together where I know they will be so that I am not struggling to find things in the pitch black before I go to bed. I said that I also needed to go help bring the cows in. This statement made her type, “Haha,” and ask if we ate the cows. I explained that cows are a source of value here, and that it was very rare that will kill them, but use them mostly as a source of wealth and milk. It was as if this was completely normal in the U.S., that I shouldn’t have to explain the meaning of cows being kept as domestic animals.

Another way to explain it is like the feeling you get when things in your house or room become “part of the scenery.” When I moved into my last apartment in New York, I put off getting a bookshelf for so long that I forgot my books were just piled in the corner, waiting to be shelved. After some time, you no longer notice the books in the corner that once irked your mind causing dissonance, but rather, your mind accepts them and forgets that they are placed in your room improperly. I suppose living in a foreign country anywhere causes this to happen to your mind – it grows so accustomed to the things it sees and the day-to-day routines that they simply become “normal,” even if entirely different from the routines of a life you may have lived just one month prior.
Living here has proven to be surprisingly normal, so much so, that I could probably write ten things in this section already…

On the Dave Congalton Show

A few weeks ago, I was a guest on the Dave Congalton radio show in San Luis Obispo, CA.  I had the opportunity to speak with him for about an hour on my past experiences with Teach For America, as well as what I will be doing once I head off to Kenya.   A few people called in at the end of the show and said some really inspiring things about the work that I want to do there.  Strangely, enough both callers that he took were named Tony (men though).  Could it be that people feel compelled to call into radio stations when they hear their name on the radio?  It was a weird coincidence.  

Dave was a funny guy.   Most of his questions centered around "Why!?"  Most of my answers centered around, "This is an unbelievable opportunity for me to take the hard skills I learned with TFA and really try to effect change on a greater level," or something like that.  I have received phone calls from family members and thoughtful greeting cards from people I know asking the same thing.  WHY?  Why are you leaving for an impoverished country?  What will you accomplish there?  My natural reaction is to think to think to myself, "Why not?"  

I thought about it again today when I watched the Dow crumble 700 points with the S & P down something ridiculous like 39%.  I had thought about applying for consulting jobs last fall, intrigued by the McKinsey rubrics that I used when I was interviewing 21 and 22 years olds for Teach For America last year.  I'm quite happy I didn't.  And then I remembered a man from a StartingBloc conference at Columbia tell us why we should be interested in social entrepreneurship and helping to change people's lives for the better.  He said something along the lines of, "Humans are animals.  And like other animals, we have an intuition, an instinct if you will, that calls to us when others of our kind are in danger or suffering.  We know when something is wrong with the world, and we feel an unsettling feeling, a fear, a slight panic that things need to change.  We need to help each other to get there."  I'm sure I didn't do his words justice.  But as our American financial system took a beating today, as I watch record numbers of people apply to programs like Teach For America, and as I get another letter from someone offering support for my trip, I think I've begun to understand what he meant.  If there are problems, we will fix them.  

So, to answer Dave's question, I'm going to Kenya to offer my skills in education, because I can't help but ignore the problems that I see.  They are too painful to watch without trying to do something about them.  

If you're interested in hearing the podcast of me on Dave's show, please click the following link.  (It takes a while to load, so be patient.)  http://edbroadcasters.com/podcasts/congalton/09-24-08.mp3 

Memories From Harlem

Back in June, I watched my students from my second year of teaching graduate 6th grade. Clad in stunning white dresses and suits, they proudly held trophies in the air as their parents clapped for their elementary successes. Not only had my students grown in size since I had last seen them, they had grown in maturity and knowledge. They boasted of getting accepted to wonderful middle schools while still reminiscing from their 5th grade days. It was eventful and emotional, to say the least. Their hard work and ownership over their education paid off.

I had the opportunity of sitting down with the staff of the school to a delicious meal of fried chicken, mac and cheese and collared greens. My old colleagues asked me what I was thinking of doing this coming year, and I responded, "Well... I'm thinking about moving to Kenya."

Their eyes widened and many of them asked, "Really?"

"Really," I said, confident in my response.

They exchanged more confused glances, smiling, but bewildered. One teacher responded, "You better e-mail!" as she handed me a slip of paper with her e-mail address.

Closing one incredible chapter in my life, I finalized the beginnings of a new one... a chapter that takes me across an ocean to Kenya.