Before I get lost in the flurry of bringing back memories of what’s transpired since the last time I’ve updated, I’m going to share my new address for the current site I’m at.
Joshua Josa, Peace Corps Volunteer (BE SURE you put this, otherwise hefty charges may be added)
PO Box 164
Kehancha – 40413
Now, onto the regular blogging experience.
I often notice myself starting a blog with something from earlier during the same day. The memory triggers another memory from earlier in the week, which is the direction I can see my thoughts drifting towards even as I type. It’s true what they say: “Peace Corps is the toughest job you’ll ever love” for many bizarre reasons even I would never have fathomed prior to coming here. At this very moment, for instance, I am feeling an insanely hightened sensation of glee simply because I am able to be typing on my netbook with Adele’s “Someone Like You” blasting in the middle of an electrically-lit room.
Alternatively, I feel a sense of bravery, heroism (although why heroism is one of the feelings, I’m not altogether sure), and a sense of mystery all wrapped up in a tight little ball of delight as I watch the candlelight dancing among the shadows with mosquitoes buzzing around the fringes of the shadows, forever attempting to evade my keen deaf eyes so they can proceed to plunge, suck, and buzz away, engorged.
Today, I love my job. The fact that it came immediately after sitting with what was nearly a full morning of dark annoyance. What happened is that someone whom I thought had literally walked out of my life for good had returned, spitting venomous words of blame at me through my innocent little Nokia. I quickly closed the deal but found myself unable to control my annoyance at things that normally bother me but I’m able to control my feelings with Kenyan Sign Language differences and theology being the chief annoyances. Y’see, with KSL there are hundreds of sign variations depending on what part of Kenya one hails from but the KSL section during the KCPE (The national Class 8 exams held at the end of every year. This is the very same exam that determines the fate of a student’s enrollance into secondary school.) is done in the dialect of KSL hailing from Nairobi and is rapidly spreading throughout the country. You can imagine my annoyance when a fellow schoolteacher challenges my logic of teaching in the KSL from Nairobi in the interest of doing well on the KCPEs with the logic that because the students are signing this particular form of dialect, the teachers should conform to the students so that the students are able to comprehend the lessons. Alas, the feeling subsided by lunch. The teachers filled their stomachs with a sort of watery bean dish with a chapati. (Sort of like a crepe, but thicker and not sweet. Or like Indian naan but cooked with more oil.) It was a welcome relief from the daily lunches consisting of ugali (corn meal + water cooked) and sukuma wiki (kale). It’s a bit disconcerting that if I go more than two days without ugali and sukuma, I experience sort of a withdrawal.
Here’s what made my day. I was teaching KSL to class 8 and during the lesson, I caught one of the students trying to conceal his signing to his neighbor. Here’s what he said: “He’s the best teacher I’ve ever seen! His signing is phenomenal and it just blows my mind away.” I couldn’t help but feel like a shining star right at that moment. There’s a constant that I notice during my service – when the light seems to fade, it’s nearly always the students that’ll bring me to see the light once more.
Last night, I watched Brokeback Mountain. I stand by my opinion that it should have won the Oscar in 2005 against Crash for its groundbreaking content and vision of its time. Crash was a great movie, yes, but I feel Brokeback Mountain deserved it’s place. Anyway, as I was sitting in the darkness with my laptop’s screen brightness set to the lowest possible setting to conserve battery, I felt as if I was living a sort of Brokeback life here. I’m looking forward to living in a place where I don’t have to be conscious about what I say around people.
Oooh – yesterday, I struck a deal with one of the teachers living in the bigger town of the area named Kehancha (as you saw on my address up there, its where I have to go for Posta. It’s about a 30 minute drive from here) to buy me things I can’t get at my local market such as MANGO! Today, she walked into the staff room with a mango in each hand. JOY!
Speaking of food, the bread in the market that I go to sucks. A distinct moldy flavour can be detected and it disgusts me. As a result, I’ve been baking breads of my own. I dub Sundays and Wednesdays as my bread baking days. Thus far, I’ve made a thyme-onion, jam (I know, right? It’s really good too), and chili breads.
Life is good these days. I’m looking forward to seeing progress with my students and for all the wonderful things to come such as a region-wide meet-up with volunteers in a nearby city in February and regional/national sports with the students in April!
There he goes, 