Today begun the third week of school in the second term. I woke up earlier than usual in anticipation for the start of teaching classes and whatnot. I couldn’t help but laugh when I found out that the entire school would be migrating to the nearby Kaaga Primary School for a zonal athletics day. This’ll be carried onto tomorrow but with those students that performed well today. I entered the staff room where teachers were idly sitting, waiting for something to happen. (Be it known that I do not get very much information at this school, just the bare necessities so the teachers may have very well known what they were waiting for but I’d like to think they didn’t.) I joined a fellow teacher, Beatrice, and started talking about random things. The conversation somehow shifted to crying and my neighbor, Ruth, said that it is shameful for men to cry. Three other female teachers echoed Ruth’s statement, leaving me standing in awe. Yes, there is a stigma against men crying in the States but never had I seen such blatant comments about the wrongness of a man crying. I quickly said that we’ll agree to disagree and left the room.

A bit later in the morning, I walked with two of the new teachers in training, Samuel and Millicent, to the Primary school where the competitions would occur. On the walk there, Millicent asked me why I’m so reserved and alone a lot. I replied saying that it’s in my nature to be reserved and Americans value their social time just as much as they do their alone time. This clashes severely with Kenyan belief as mentioned in my previous blog, I believe. Millicent told me that I should change my behavior. I sarcastically said that I would change only if she would stop going to church. That made her jaw drop right in the middle of her steps. I nodded yes. She nodded no. I shrugged and continued walking.

When we entered the premises of the Kaaga Primary school, I was overwhelmed by the number of students that peppered the track sidelines. I eagerly sought out my own students and spotted them in the distance, under a flame tree. The flame tree is named so for its flame-red flowers that make the tree look like its burning when they’re in bloom. I hurriedly walked to join them but was deterred by the head teacher who motioned me to join the other teachers sitting on the raised platform. Having just finished reading Buddha, I felt an internal contempt for the teachers sitting on a raised platform, raising themselves from those they consider low. This feeling was just spillover from the morning debate regarding crying – they insisted that any grown person crying are babies. (I forgot to mention that when prompted whether the women cried during giving birth, they proudly shook their heads no. Whoa?) After 30 minutes or so, the competition began and I moved from one event to the next, like a father beaming on his children. Ayiyi – those children! I actually made a coconut-glazed carrot cake tonight to share with my Class 6 students (five of them had birthdays during April or the beginning of May) for some birthdays.

I recently found out that one current Peace Corps Volunteer is E.T.ing. (Early Termination) ET is used in the Peace Corps for anyone who ends their service before the agreed 27 months is up. Quite fitting too because who doesn’t remember ET and his famous ‘Phone Home.’ lines. ET’s feat is made entirely feasible in the Peace Corps where a volunteer only has to raise their phone and click send to the Peace Corps office in Nairobi as opposed to raising their fingers. The ETing volunteer is given a span of 48 hours to pack everything and vamoose back to the States. This ETing volunteer in particular was.. no.. is someone I admire and have come to look up to despite the short time I’ve had to know her. My heart twinged with pain upon reading the Facebook status stating her decision. At least there’s email. Just goes to show you that anything could happen, especially with her having only six months left in her service.

Here’s to hoping the same won’t happen to me.