A day at the school for the deaf

Today I had the opportunity to join Susan, an American linguist doing research for several weeks here in Kenya, at the school for the deaf.  We took a taxi several miles outside of town on bumpy, BUMPY roads. We passed a secondary school and lots of cows and goats, then arrived at the school for the deaf.  The facility itself houses and sleeps up to 80 kids with hearing impairments, from grade 1-8.  There is a modest kitchen with several huge sufurias, cooking pots, where they make every meal in bulk.  There are four, maybe five? classrooms, each with a chalkboard, dirt floors, several desks, a handmade poster or two, and many, many students.  Interestingly enough, since there aren’t enough classrooms for the amount of kids, each classroom is divided in two, and there’s a chalkboard at each end. The students in one class sit facing one chalkboard, and the students in the other class sit facing the other chalkboard, but all in the same room.  I found this quite a clever way to make use of the space and divide the classroom.  However, just because these kids are deaf doesn’t mean they’re silent.  The teachers must go crazy trying to concentrate with not only another teacher in the same room, but also with the vocalizations from many students.

I was nervous as we approached-I don’t know sign language!  I was flustered and said to Susan as we walked up, “Uhhh I don’t know anything, how do I sign ‘hello’?!”  “Just wave.” Ohhh riiiiiight.

The kids were very warm and friendly, and started signing furiously to Susan to ask about her friend.  She told them where I’m from, what I do, and spelled my name in sign language. They asked if I knew any sign, and she answered no, so they immediately wanted to teach me how to sign my own name.  They also gave me a “nick-sign,” if you will: the letter K across your body to your shoulder. It was funny to talk to Susan about her experiences at the deaf school. She is fluent in ASL, American Sign Language, but unfortunately it’s slightly different than Kenyan Sign Language.  She has stories of funny mishaps. For example, the sign “nice” in ASL is the same as the sign “clean” in KSL. So, she would sign, “Nice to meet you,” but the kids often giggled because she was saying, “Clean to meet you.”

I had to remind myself not to get frustrated, but it was difficult. Talk about a language barrier. Now a days when I’m greeted by a group of (hearing) Kenyan children, I feel at ease. I’ve discovered my ways of connecting with them.  I understand the basics of how to greet and ask how their day is, how they’re feeling, what they had for lunch, etc etc.  And I know some goofy Swahili songs that gets me “in” right away. But with these kids, it felt like I was back at square one, I literally don’t know the first thing.  It was a good introduction to the school though, and the teachers were very friendly. We chatted and ate a lunch of githeri, a mixture of corn and beans, while the kids played outside.

I know that there are definitely ways a Music Therapist can work with the deaf population.  I remember observing an MT who worked with pre-school aged kids who had cochlear implants.  The connection between music and early language development in her work was so evident, and the role of music so important.  This population is different however, in that these kids will grow up using sign language as their first language and primary method of communication.  Susan explained to me that many individuals in the deaf community, in Kenya, the states, and elsewhere, do not view being deaf as an impairment. They may become frustrated when someone suggests something like a cochlear implant, because it implies that there is something, in fact, to corrected.  Hopefully I’ll be able to incorporate some drumming or other activities where the children can feel the vibrations.  It’s funny, just because kids can’t hear doesn’t mean they can’t benefit from music.

Also, a side note on safety: 

Some of you may know that there is a bit of turmoil between Kenya and Somalia right now.  Al Shabaab militants have been trying to overturn Somalia’s government for quite some time, and they’ve been linked to recent kidnappings of Kenyans and tourists along the coast.  Kenya has been forced to intervene and recently sent troops across the border into Somalia to pursue suspected Islamic militants.  BUT just know that I am safe and sound, and taking precautions. (You’ll be happy to know that I no longer plan on running a half marathon in Nairobi this weekend, as there have been some bombings there. You’re welcome, mamabear!) The Indiana University-Moi University partnership is a strong one, and we’ve been told that if there is even a slight chance we’re in danger, Joe Mamlin, head of the program and director of AMPATH, would send us home in a heartbeat. So, if you see shenanigans in the news, don’t worry, I’m A-OK. 

The male man...

There is this boy at the Sally Test Pediatric Center named Robert. When I first met him a couple of weeks ago, I thought he was 11 or maybe 12. I've learned it's really difficult to tell kids' ages around here. Often times they're so malnourished and undeveloped that I'll think they are maybe 18 months or so, then later learn that they're actually 3 or 4 years old. Robert definitely took a liking to me. During free time I've noticed he often snags me first before the other kids do so that I'll play chess with him. When we play he is so thoughtful; he always takes his time and thinks through each move. Sometimes I let him win, but other times, I'm a bit ashamed to admit, he truthfully beats me. I love that beaming smile when he says, "checkmate" and then wins in the next move...I think that smile is one of the most rewarding things thus far in my time here. Turns out Robert is actually 16, and he has a stomach tumor. When I learned that, my heart flip flopped. I can't believe this kid is 16, he looks so young. He is so innocent and vulnerable.  He works independently a lot of the time at Sally Test, probably because some of the toddler aged songs and activities don't really get him pumped up.  So he will find some kind of workbook, usually a math book, and work on questions by himself. Then he'll ask me or someone to check over his work. I just can't get over how self-motivated he is. Man, he really wants to learn so badly. I wonder if he was in school before he was hospitalized, or if he'll ever have the opportunity to go to school.  Sadly enough, there are a lot of abandoned kids at the hospital. There is a policy that if a patient is discharged but can't pay the hospital bill, they literally cannot leave the hospital. Parents sometimes abandon their kids because they are forced to go out and look for a way to make money and pay the bill, but unfortunately too many times they don't come back. So these children are literally abandoned and trapped in the hospital. Nurses and staff are forced to use their beds for other sick patients....so since the kids have been discharged and aren't technically "patients" anymore, they sleep in the grass outside the hospital. I can't even wrap my brain around the concept of a child being parentless, homeless, and trapped in the hospital because no one can pay their bill. I have a feeling Robert is one of those kids. I really just want to adopt him and take him to Indianapolis. Gosh I wish I could give this kid a chance.

Things are a bit unstable around the hospital these days. Since Monday, a large number of physicians and employees have been on strike. Apparently it's the worst strike since some time in the mid nineties. They are refusing to perform surgeries, provide patient care, and some aren't coming in to the hospital at all. I can't fully explain the situation, because there are a lot of different explanations going around, some political and some tribal.  From what I understand, there has been a shift in administration recently, and the hospital has a ton, ton, ton of debt.  There is no money for even the most basic of medical supplies.  One of the neurosurgeons that I workout with said that he hasn't done nearly the amount of surgeries that he would usually do because they don't have gloves or even oxygen for patients while they're under, so he simply can't perform some of the necessary surgeries.  As of yesterday they've stopped admitting patients, and unfortunately a lot of patients are choosing to go home. If they're not receiving care while admitted in the hospital, they'd rather go home to die than die here and leave family members with the burden of the hospital bill after their death. Hopefully things will turn around here in the next couple of weeks, and again, I definitely don't understand the nitty gritty of what's happening.

I had my first Kenyan church experience last Sunday, and I'm actually looking forward to going again this Sunday.  There was a lot of music...that was definitely my favorite part.  The sermon was about men in Kenya stepping up and taking responsibility for their actions, and taking steps to lead more productive lives.  The only problem was, the minister kept referring to a man as, "the male man." He would say things like, "The male man needs to take care of his children and make time for his family." And, "The male man needs to find work at all cost so that he can provide for his wife and children." All of these were valid points, sure, but I just kept giggling at the "male man," all I could think about was the mail man.  WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE POSTAL SERVICE?!? Lost in translation...I suppose.

Okie-dokie, folks, that's all for now. More adventures to come!

So there we were, stranded on the side of the road in Uganda at night....

This weekend I went with a group of med and pharmacy students on a rafting trip down the Nile in Uganda. I conveniently waited to tell the parental units about this one until AFTER we were back for the day. So we headed out mid-afternoon on Friday, I think there were 16 of us total in 2 vans. Crossing the border was a bit of an ordeal. There were a ton of people traveling to Uganda for a Kenya-Uganda soccer game, so we waited for an hour or so. It was getting dark by the time we got back on the road, which was a problem because the med and pharm students signed a form stating they wouldn't travel at night for safety reasons. We still had over two hours to drive before we got to the camp site in Uganda....oops. So we're riding along, it's pitch black because there are no street lights in Uganda, and all of the sudden we stop on the side of the road in a village. Kelvin, a Kenyan who was coordinating the majority of our weekend, came back to our van and told us they were having trouble with the first van. He said, "We're just going to change batteries and let it charge for a bit, then we'll leave soon, no problem." An hour later....

So there we were, stranded on the side of the road in Uganda at night.  We passed the time with many a joke about dying in Uganda, remarks about how this is exactly the situation that all of the supervisors want to avoid....16 mzungus chillin in parked, broken down vans at night in a foreign country....yes, yes, we were sitting ducks. (PS Med and pharm students, my apologies if any of your supervisors somehow read this...but it's too good not to share...) After letting the first van charge on the battery of the second van for an hour or so, the drivers realized that the battery wasn't in fact the problem. So now the first van wouldn't start at all. Sweet. So, all 16 of us piled in the second van for the remaining 45 minutes or so of the trip. It was truly mzungu matatu style, quite entertaining. We got to the camp site and found very nice, SAFE, camping accommodations awaiting us. Side note, I'm pretty sure doxycycl, the malaria prophylaxis I'm taking is giving me wicked dreams and making me do goofy things in my sleep. So far they've included being chased by unknown furry beasts, talking about small birds lined up on the perimeters of my bed, coming to in the middle of the night and realizing I'm eating peanut butter (that's happened before...) and waking up wandering aimlessly in my room with the lights on. Interesting.

On Saturday we ventured out on an all day rafting excursion. The company we went with was a pretty commercial one--definitely aimed at tourists. Rafting in Africa was very different than rafting in Colorado or West Virginia. In the states, the goal of the trip is to stay IN the raft. Here, we only stayed in our raft maybe 2 out of the 9 or 10 rapids? In fact, I'm pretty sure the three guides had a competition going for who could flip their raft the most times, or maybe a competition for who could eject their rafters the furthest or highest into the air?! It was crazy and awesome, but actually quite scary. I don't usually think things like that are scary, I'm usually pumped to do the most extreme things in these situations, but man. We're talking about some crazy class 5 rapids in the Nile. Mother nature done messed us up.  It's funny too, because everything that they tell you safety wise while you're on land makes complete sense at the time, but when you're being flung around by these massive waves, you don't think of ANY of that stuff.

Some words of advice from our crazy Zimbabwean guides:

1.) "Ball yourself up when you're pulled under, you'll pop up to the surface faster. The worst thing you could do is flail like a ragdoll."  Beaucoup de ragdoll flailing? Check.

2.) " If you haven't been rescued by one of the kayaks or the safety raft, swim away from the main current. Float on your back with your feet up, you'll use less energy than flailing and won't hit your feet on rocks or have them tickled by crocs." Again, major flailing in the middle of the current while waiting to be rescued? Check.

3.) The final one, our guide's reply when we gave him a hard time about the fact that we'd spent more time thrashing for our lives in the rapids than in the raft: "If you're in the raft you're just floating. We are RAFTING!" Yes sir, we are.

For one of the final, bigger rapids, our guide put Alana, one of the med students, and myself at the front of the boat and the other four bigger guys at the back. He reasoned that the weight distribution would ideally help us "surf the rapid" and not flip. But what he really wanted to do was have the raft launch 90 degrees upright, then flip from the front to back and LAUNCH Alana and I as far and high out of the raft as possible. It worked. We went flying and I swear I was 20 feet in the air before I hit the water. When we finally got back in the raft, our guide was having a good chuckle to himself and asked if we ladies had enjoyed ourselves. Ha. During all of these adventures it was funny to see locals who lived on the islands and mainlands standing as close to the water as possible to watch the action.  Crazy tourists willingly flying down water falls and through the air must have been their entertainment, and I guess I can't really blame them. One of the highlights was taking a break midday to have a snack.  Each person got half of a pineapple (literally) sliced into pieces, and some "glucose biscuits." It was absolutely delish!

Anyway, I don't have any pictures from the Nile rafting day, but here are several pictures from the last month or so:

 My Kenyan mama and me over looking Lake Baringo

 Out in the village on a hunt for a wise Kenyan prophet who apparently had all of the answers to life's burning questions...it was a really long day.

 Some great medical play at the Sally Test Pediatric Center, Moi Teaching and Referral Hospital. These are some of the cuties I get to spend my days with.

 Everyone's favorite kiddo.

 The view of the Nile in Uganda from our camp site.

Making crafts with Samuel.  He is really helping me with my Swahili, and I'm helping him with English. His favorite thing to say to me is, "Kathleen, kuuuu-ja!" (Kathleen, come!) Then he grabs my hand and pulls me while he hops on his good leg and uses me for balance.