Tala

Kenya, Teaching

I’ve been back in Tala for a little over a week now. School was supposed to open on January 5th, but I was still in Ethiopia. I don’t know why it took me so long to notice, but last semester I noticed that neither the students nor the teachers report on time for school. Last semester we started two weeks late, so this time I stayed away for an extra week; nobody cared that I was a week “late” because most of the students and teachers still weren’t even around. Nonetheless, we finally sorted out the class schedule and time table and started today.

I’ll be teaching four classes this semester. Four! Count ‘em:

  1. Two units of Introduction to Programming and Algorithms
  2. One unit of Network Essentials
  3. One unit of Object-oriented Programming

I’ve taught the first two for the past two semesters so it’s not really a big deal, but the last one is a bit new. The course content isn’t so different from the other programming class I teach, but the students are two semesters ahead, so I have to try to cover the topics deeper. I’ve had to create my own notes for these classes so far, which is a pain in the ass, but I guess I did a good job because my students always pass.

Each class is supposed to have four hours per week, but there’s no way I can talk that much. Today I had two classes and I talked for one hour in each class. Two of the classes are with students who I already know from past semesters, but for the new students I always start by telling them, “Hi, my name is Alan. Not ‘Mr. Orth’ or ‘Sir,’ just ‘Alan.’” They like to add titles, but it bugs me. Although I found a gray hair on my head the other day, I don’t have a Ph.D and I’m not fifty, so I’d actually rather they called me “dude” than “Sir” or “Mr!” Hell, most of the students are around twenty years old, and I’m pretty sure at least two or three are older than me.

In other news I bought some new sandals in Tala market the other day. They’re made from recycled tires and they cost me a little less than a dollar. Haha. I had also bought a mop so people were laughing when I was walking home; I was wearing the “new” sandals and carrying my old ones in my hand along with the mop. I guess it’s pretty funny for a couple of reasons, chiefly because the tire sandals are very “local.” I hear that they last forever, though, and they’re tough so no thorns can poke through them. Alright!

Kenya

Yesterday I was very sick. Today I went to the doctor and a blood test showed that I have plasmodium malariae. So now I am among the billions of malaria-infected people in the world. In retrospect it really wasn’t all that bad, just a lot of diarrhea. Other than the the obvious annoyance of having to run to the toilet every 20 minutes, the headaches, muscle pain, lack of appetite, and fatigue are pretty normal if you’ve ever had the flu or common cold.

I got a shot of quinine in my butt (ouch), and now I’m on anti-biotics for a few days. I feel better already; part of that was probably due to eating my first meal in twenty-four hours. I will go for more shots tomorrow and the next day and then I’ll be rid of this parasite forever. The good thing is that, according the Center for Disease Control, I am building up immunities to this parasite. Cool!
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Kenya, Rants

Lately a lot of people have been asking me for money, and it’s getting really annoying. Sometimes it’s, “give me twenty shillings” and other times it’s, “buy for me tea” or, “give me your bike.” I have so many experiences with this, nearly ten in the last two days, that I hardly even know where to start!

Today was a long day at work because my class wasn’t until after lunch, and then I talked for nearly two hours, waving my hands, writing on the board, breathing chalk dust, etc. After work I walked to the market to drink a cup of tea and eat a chapati. It’s only one and a half kilometers, but the hot African sun scorches my nose and neck and there’s a gauntlet of children yelling at me along the side of the road almost the whole way. Sometimes they yell, “Alan!” and other times it’s, “Mzungu!” or, “Wewe!” (Swahili for “you”). Even after you wave they keep yelling, and it’s really annoying when you’re walking with someone trying to have a conversation. The other day a rock/clod of dirt hit me in the face and I swear it was one of those kids (but I can’t prove it).

After arriving safely to the market I headed to the cafe I’ve been having tea at lately. It just so happens that the cafe is next door to the barber shop where I normally get a shave and hang out to kill time, so I went to greet people. The owner mentioned that they wanted me to buy them tea, to which I laughed, but he persisted. He said that he knew I was about to go drink tea and eat chapati. After that, how could I then go have tea next door without feeling guilty? So I proceeded to another of my usual cafes where I saw a certain mzee (respectful title for an old man) who was eager to greet me. He’s always really nice and I see him almost every day, but he doesn’t speak much English and my Swahili is better-suited for speaking with small children. I sat down at his table and made some small talk, inquiring whether he had already had tea; bado, “not yet.” I asked if he wanted chapati and he said something about it costing a lot of money, so I told him I’d buy for him.

As we were eating, a drunk (or crazy) guy started greeting me and asking for tea and chapati. I tried to tune him out but I still heard him telling me “God will punish you” and other crazy things like, “I am Kenyan.” He even came over to me to insult/beg to my face and I had visions of him throwing my tea at me. I tried to tell him to leave me alone and to go away (in Swahili), but this only made him more excited. Luckily a waiter saw him and shoed him away.

This stuff is entirely typical, though. Yesterday I was walking to a little restaurant to buy some fried fish and ugali and an annoying woman ran over and started following me. This woman is always nagging me. Every time I walk by she jumps up to come talk to me, dismissing whoever I’m talking to, pretending we have some pending business to attend to, “Alan, I want to talk to you about something.” She ended up following me several blocks to the restaurant, “Alan, I know you’re going to eat fish. Buy for me.” I’ve ceased to be courteous with this lady, so I just responded, “Linda, I will not buy you fish. I want to eat alone. Please leave me. You can walk that way now.” Another day she asked me to “just give me 100 shillings.” When I declined she made a big scene asking me over and over “why?”

Also typical: someone asks me to buy them food or tea and I see they’re chewing miraa (qat, a narcotic plant) in their pocket. I’ll joke with those guys and tell them that I can see they’re already eating some sukuma wiki. It’s probably rude, but how can I buy ten shillings of some leafy green vegetables when they’re spending 100 shillings on drugs? I’m not the morality police, but don’t ask me for ten shillings when you’ve blown 100 on drugs.

Just another day in Kenya I guess.