A Caste Culture

Since I’ve been here, I can’t help but notice how all parts of Kenya are separated into classes- there are those who serve, and those who are served. Even those who serve have servants who they treat like dirt and pay nothing.
I saw it on the hike when the porters and cooks wouldn’t let us help them with anything- not even just carrying our own jackets or waterbottles or clearing our plates after meals. At that point, I couldn’t tell if it was just their professionalism and the fact that we were clients, but now I see that it was because we were seen as a higher class than they were because we were clients, white girls from America.
I see it at school- the kids see themselves as superior to the cooks and maintenance crew because they serve the kids. The kids laugh when Patricia and I go to weed in the shamba (field or garden), and when we ask them for help they just kindof giggle and ask why we’re doing it. They’re shocked that we even know how to pull weeds or dig, because as I’ve recently discovered, they think that everyone in America is rich and lives in a mansion. Yesterday, when I told a group of girls that no, I do not personally know Beyoncé, and that yes, there are a lot of Americans who are poor and who are homeless, they were shocked. They didn’t believe me at first, but then they got very quiet, and one just said, “I thought everyone in the states had a lot of money.” That misconception of Americans being wealthy automatically put Patricia and me above them in their minds, and I think that conversation might have put us on a more even playing field.
I saw it when Mary went to the hospital and Sister Mary so insisted that someone be with her to fight for her. She’s 16 and pregnant, arriving at the hospital from a boarding school notorious for not asking for school fees, and without a parent accompanying her. In Kenya, she’s far down on the list. She’d also be in a lot of pain and distress, unable to fight for herself. That’s why she needed someone with her- someone who would insist that she is just as valuable and worthy of care as a married woman who came in with her husband to have a child.
I see it every day as we walk down the street to go to school. Everyone smiles and waves at us, and when we say jambo, they respond with hello. The basic English that everyone knows is the word “fine.” They are taught to say “How are you?” and to answer “Fine, how are you?” in primary school, and most cannot remember much past that. The answer to pretty much anything and everything we say to people walking down the road is “fine, fine.” It could be an answer to the question “How are you?” and the answer is probably not fine, it could be an answer to just a simple hello or good morning.
I saw it yesterday when Patricia and I started the first of our many Saturday projects- reshaping the plant beds in the greenhouse to measure one meter across and 50 centimeters in between so that the irrigation system will work. We got in there bright and early and started raking, but when the casual laborers saw us (casual laborer=maintenance staff), they took the rakes and “spades” (shovels) out of our hands and took over. We tried to explain that while we’d love their help, we could do some work too, but they wouldn’t hear of it. Of course, they did a much better job than we ever could have, but it was interesting to see that they wouldn’t let us help. We went and got them water and did some weeding around the edges of the greenhouse, but still can take no credit for the work that was done.
I hope that our time here working with and hanging out with the students at the school will make them see it too- and see that it’s wrong. I want them to understand the value of each and every human person. I know it’s a big goal, but I’m going to do what I can to make as much of a difference as possible in the time I’m here.

I apologize for not posting for so long and then inundating you with posts- our internet hasn’t been working since we had a CRAZY rainstorm the other day. It thundered so much that our little house shook! We actually didn’t lose power, but the crash of the rain on the iron roof was overwhelming and a little scary. It is, however, a gorgeous day here today. I’m sitting in a little hut on the Dominican compound typing and listening to the cows and goats. The goats graze on the property, and there is currently one about 10 feet away from me. The wind is blowing and it’s not even hot, it’s really nice to be outside! Patricia and I moved into a new little house today, about 30 feet away from where our first house was. We now have hot water (hooray!), a little common room and kitchen, and we don’t have to go outside to go to the bathroom. I’ll post pictures when I can! I’ve been in Kenya for about 2 weeks, which is weird. It feels like longer, but it has gone by so fast. See you in 24 days! xox