Jump Rope in Kibera

Saturday, Wednesday and Thursday were jump rope days at Kibera. Cantar, the Carolina for Kibera Youth Sports Director, picked me up to attend a practice and performance in Kibera on Saturday. A slow-moving group of UN visitors and security vehicles through the largely unpaved roads of Kibera added an additional 40 minutes to the typical 5-minute ride to the Undugu Center.

Undugu technically is not a school - more of an activities/vocational training/educational center in Silanga, at the southeast corner of Kibera. Dennis, the Undugu administrator, is very proud of his part in offering outdoor space for the jump rope program, and hopes jump rope will spread throughout the center and the country.

The Kibera jump rope program is one of several Mike set up in 2009 and 2010 in Kenya and Tanzania with the help of a Leadership and Creativity Fellowship from Oberlin College. His hope has been that CFK would adopt the program and make it their own, and that's exactly what has been happening. CFK has made the jump rope program the second strand of their Youth Sports program (soccer was the first). Several of the original trainers have deepened their level of commitment and established practice formats that are decidedly their own. CFK is making sure the program grows steadily as space and staff become available, and the program is now up to more than 180 jumpers.

Saturday's performance was held after the first round elimination for the players who will represent Kenya at the 2011 Norway Cup soccer tournament this summer. As with all performances, this one started with the mandatory clearing of the largest stones from the field.

The jumpers were reserved at first but opened up once they learned I was "Mama Mike." (Nothing changes - I was "Mike Fry's Mom" for years in the USA Jump Rope World.) Everyone wanted me to tape their freestyle routines for Mike; the more gregarious asked me to record messages for him. And Thursday, more than a dozen jumpers  - some who had not even met Mike - brought in hand written notes, letters and small gifts for me to take back for him.

The practices, held at different sites in Kibera, are impressive for the obvious dedication of the trainers (you can often hear them in the background, exhorting the kids to push themselves), and the commitment and love for jump rope of the jumpers - no complaining, no slacking off, just multiple repetitions of each skill.

Taking the Slow Train . . .

Spent a lazy Thursday morning trying to get my suitcases organized. Everything fit into two, so I wanted to leave the third one with Dorothy and avoid paying $55 to bring it back into the US.  The morning went into hyperdrive when I found out that my bags had to be out of the room by 10:00. The outside temperature was back to blistering.

I had wanted to do a bit more looking around - and possibly some shopping - in Old Town, and Stephanie agreed to come along. Her bargaining skills were invaluable in securing some interesting gifts for Bill, as well as a large bag woven of baobab fiber. This bag has turned out to be my very own Mary Poppins bag - no matter how much I put in it, there's always room for more.

One tuk-tuk, one matatu and a short walk brought us back to Stephanie's house to visit the flip-flop burial ground and for one last walk on beach. The pit Coco had dug was more than two feet across, and had yielded not only my flip-flop but four of Mr. Rooke's socks as well. More socks had been discovered in other holes, as well as childhood toys that had been missing for years.

The beach was missing, completely covered by the rising tide, so we sat on the rocks above and watched the waves climbing the rocks.

Back to the Poly to pay for my stay there, then a tuk-tuk to Dorothy's to meet up with my security force, then on to the train station. The guys helped get my heavy suitcases onto the train and into my compartment, and insisted on watching over me until just before the train left at 7PM.

The compartments in First Class are tiny, even for one person, let alone the two they're designed for. In addition to the bunk beds, there's a small closet, tiny sink, trash compartment and a ladder for reaching the top bunk.

The Camera makes the cabin look larger than it is.

The corridor is so narrow you have to move into your compartment
when someone needs to pass by.

The fans in our compartments weren't working, so it was a relief to be called to the dining car for dinner, where the fans were plentiful and operational. The meal was surprisingly good - I had read that the dinner meal was generally the more disappointing of the two - but the conversation sparkled.

At my table:

• Rupert - a businessman from Malindi (several hours north of Mombasa), and a veteran of Kenyan train travel
• Barnaby - a young independent film maker who makes short promotional films for businesses
• Lucy - a young make-up artist/costumer/special effects genius with a small British TV production company.

Rupert kept us in stitches the entire evening, and somehow managed to turn the rest of us - all quiet by nature - into clever and witty conversationalists.

Back in my room for the night, I joined in the collective cheers when the fans began working. Periodic power fluctuations would dim the lights and slow the fans. I tried to blog, but wasn't able to get a reliable Internet connection, and the motion and sound of the engine finally lulled me to sleep.

The train stopped just before 7:00 AM for what we thought was a short stop. We later learned that a train ahead of us had broken down and was awaiting assistance. My breakfast companions included a quiet Indian mother with limited English, and her son (maybe 9 or 10 years old?), who said nothing. He left the table while we were being served and his mother followed after having a few bites.

The fourth person at the table was Noemie, a young Belgian woman with Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders), who was returning from a week in Lamu. She had spent the week before that in Nairobi, interviewing local MSF medical personnel who were applying for international (traveling) MSF positions.

We talked for several hours, and tried to get train staff to give us some idea of when we might be arriving in Nairobi (responses ranged from one to three hours late – not sure how the one hour figure was arrived at as the train had been stopped for more than two hours by that time). Passengers who had planned morning or midday meetings were stressed, and nearly everyone had someone to call to change pickup arrangements. "Don't come to the station - I'll call when I get in" was the phrase of the day.

An isolated two-bungalow compound along the tracks.

After an additional few hours of conversation and several large animal sightings (unfortunately the camera operator wasn't quick enough), we finally arrived in Nairobi - just 5 hours past the scheduled 9 AM arrival time.

School and Spice Shopping

Last night's rain gave Mombasa the first pleasantly warm day in the week and a half I've been here. The rain stopped about 7, and the power went on shortly thereafter. It was so breezy I left the fan off, then turned it back on just before I left to dry the rest of the laundry.

I called Peter, my "regular" tuk-tuk driver for an early morning trip to the railway station. He showed up 45 minutes later in the back seat of someone else's tuk-tuk. His was out of commission for the day and he had found someone else, come with him to pick me up and then sent us to the station. I had no trouble getting a ticket for the Thursday night train.

After an early morning trip to the railway station to get my ticket for the Thursday night train, I went to Mombasa Academy to observe in Stephanie's Mom's class. Diane runs a special needs class of about 20 students with the help of four assistants, a great ratio for successful learning and the molding of positive behavior patterns . She is calm, firm and creative. The walls are filled with bright posters and drawings, and books, toys and games her own children have outgrown are everywhere.

Stephanie, who helps out a couple hours each day, was particularly excited because the little boy who was her "case study" for the workshop had just learned to request "toilet" that morning using a small single-message device. He pealed with delight at her voice coming from inside the little talker, at the big deal she was making, and at being immediately rushed to the bathroom. The day before he had been taught to request water in a similar fashion. This is a child who had not used any sort of AAC until last week when Stephanie introduced the picture display she had created during one of the workshop sessions.

I spent a bit of time with a bright 7-year old who was using tongue depressors to help with subtraction, but was nearly ready to handle the problems without them. I asked about doing one of the "easier" ones (10-9) in his head. "I already have the 10 in my head," he explained. "Where shall I put the 9?"

Nuala, another of the local speech-language therapists dropped by the Academy to pick me up for an afternoon of shopping, along with her friend Judy, a former OT volunteer in Mombasa. We stopped for Indian buffet  - spicy food and lassi, a refreshing yogurt drink.

Just inside the market area, we came upon a spice shop with good prices. Most were 50 KES - about 60 cents - for sealed 30 gram bags. I left with an assortment of seasonings and spices, genuine saffron (not "Indian saffron," which is actually turmeric), and blocks of jaggery, an unrefined cane sugar (sometimes palm tree sugar), all for other people. Now I'm hoping I can find a good spice shop in Nairobi and buy for myself.

The spice shop haul - my suitcase smells heavenly.

Back to the Poly, then off to Dorothy's to take Brian shopping for school shoes - it's hard keeping size 8 feet in size 7 shoes. Once back at Dorothy's - my last dinner in Mombasa - I watched dozens of chapatis being made for the evening meal and the next day's lunch. I hope the video clip gives you an appreciation for how time intensive the process is - remember, it doesn't include making the dough and forming it into balls.

Then dinner, gifts and goodbyes - not final goodbyes, though, because Dorothy insisted that I be properly accompanied to the train station tomorrow afternoon by Brian and an older cousin. She was appalled that I had made the trip alone this morning.

School and Fun - Part Two

Tuesday was Sapling Trust day. One of the Sapling Trust teachers had asked me to come and observe her class of three young children with autism. I spent quite a bit of time with her, gave her a few basic suggestions for encouraging communication, but concluded that what would be the most beneficial would be to have an assistant to help manage the wide variety of behaviors.

I then spent nearly an hour with a deaf 21-year-old artist/computer geek who was having a bit of a problem finding the drawing program that wold allow him to open a file he had created. I offered a few suggestions and from then on he was always 3-4 steps ahead of me. Using his flash drive, he was able to transfer the program to the appropriate user area, complete the required registration, re-install it, and open his file to show me a his rendering of an apartment complex. He also enjoys drawing cars and copying and designing commercial logos.

In Eunice's class, the morning's focus was on singing about action words - washing and wiping in particular. Each child got a chance to "wash" a towel in a basin of soapy water. The lesson became even more functional after a large amount of water was spilled on the floor, and we began singing about the teacher washing and wiping the floor.

I walked a couple of long blocks to a busier intersection where I could hail a tuk-tuk to take me to the Nakumatt Nyali , where I exchanged about $40 in Tanzanian currency into Kenyan shillings and met Stephanie. We walked to her house, had a lunch of rice and curry, and caught a matatu to Haller Park.

Haller Park is a green urban sanctuary. There are trails, snake exhibits, a 3:00 PM giraffe feeding one can participate in, crocodile and hippo feedings to watch (check out the monkeys sneaking in for their share) and a huge whale made entirely from discarded flip-flops.

Back at the house, Stephanie's mother shared home remedies that have been passed down in her family - I'm looking forward to trying the the one for sleep.

Another calming walk on the beach. The views were even more breathtaking today. We were able to walk way out because of the neap tide. Neap tides are particularly weak tides that occur twice a month - during the first and 3rd quarter moons - when the sun and moon are at right angles to each other. The sun cancels out much of the moon's gravitational pull, resulting in smaller differences between high and low tides (Thank you wiki answers!).

Looking back toward land

Jack, the neighbor's dog, accompanied us on all
our beach ramblings.





Back at the house, we washed the sand off our feet and left our flip-flops outside to dry.

Big Mistake.

When it was time to leave for town, only one flip-flop could be found. The usual canine suspects were rounded up and the sand pits were surveyed, but no flip-flop could be found.

I did several small buckets of laundry at the Poly. Everything dried quickly with the help of the powerful ceiling fan, except for the final load of three items (2 needed the next day), which I had pinned up just before storm - and power outage - hit at 2:15 AM. 

Have I mentioned that Mombasa is hot? The kind of hot where sweat pours down your face after just a minute or two outside? The kind of hot where being inside without a fan almost constitutes abuse? Luckily the rain brought an immediate drop in temperature, so the absence of the fan was tolerable.

School and Fun

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were all days of school visits in the morning and enjoying Mombasa with friends in the afternoons.

Dorothy and I walked to her office at the Mombasa EARC (Educational Assessment and Resource Center), where she gave me some background on training for assessment teachers and the assessment process itself. The Mombasa EARC has staff offices and workshops, including one that builds wheelchairs from the ground up.

A custom-welded wheelchair from the Mombasa EARC
(click to enlarge)

EARCs fall under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Education, Science and Technology. Their duties include:

* Assessing and identifying children with special needs 

* Providing guidance, counseling and courses for parents of children with special needs

* Establishing special needs units in regular schools

* Referring children with special needs to special schools or programs or for medical examination and treatment

* Offering seminars for teachers and other professionals working with children with special needs

* Providing hearing aids

* Collecting data for research and planning

The local agency coordinator told us that Starkey Labs, a Minnesota firm that produces hearing aids and diagnostic equipment, is donating 1000 sets of binaural (right and left ear) hearing aids to the Coast EARC (basically southeastern Kenya) in March, and a European company (sorry - can't remember which) will be coming to build a soundproof booth for hearing assessments soon as well.

Next door to the Mombasa EARC is the Tom Mboya School for Cerebral Palsy. One of the teachers who had attended the training last week had asked me to visit. I spent a couple hours there observing, participating in classroom and feeding activities and offering suggestions when asked. As in most programs for the developmentally disabled, there are so many bright children whose bodies won't let them communicate very efficiently. I saw so many who could benefit from some type of augmentative communication.

Poverty shows itself in some unexpected ways. I saw children wearing one shoe and carrying the other. Their shoes were so tight that even the slightest difference in foot size meant that one foot could not be forced into their shoe. I tried.

I had lunch with Stephanie and her mother. Stephanie is hoping to train to be a Speech Therapy Assistant and had wowed everyone at last week's training with her trash-to-treasure AAC adaptations. We spent several hours talking at their house, walked on the gorgeous beach just a short distance behind their house, fed the monkeys that inhabit their trees and tried to avoid the holes their dogs have dug burying shoes and other family treasures.

One of the many caves on the beach

Weekend Update

I got a taste - actually many tastes - of Mombasa over the weekend. Rehana, one of the local Speech-Language Therapists, had offered to show me around.

(click to enlarge)

We started in Old Town –  a small section of Mombasa with narrow streets and alleys, interesting shops(most with the standard tourist goods, but some with very temping and unusual items), and beautifully carved wooden doors.

After a couple of mango smoothies in a local coffee shop, we headed to Fort Jesus, a massive compound still showing some of the original coral walls. Fort Jesus was built by the Portuguese in 1593 and was the site of many skirmishes as different nations sought to control Mombasa. The museum there had fascinating artifacts.



View from Fort Jesus



Hamisi, our personal tour guide rattled off names and dates much faster than we could process them. Rehana - born and raised in Mombasa, and therefore in possession of the elusive bargaining gene most Westerners are missing - had firmly negotiated the fee at the beginning. He kept asking if we were happy, expecting that our satisfaction would justify a higher fee. He was no match for Rehana. 

The heat finally drove us to leave. We drove to waterfront parking area with lots of food vendors. Everything Rehana mentioned was something I had never had and wanted to try. We started with juice from green coconuts, drunk out of the shell. Rehana asked for a bit of pulp; the vendor quickly added some and cut little spoons out of the tops of the shells. This was followed by some seasoned roasted cassava spears - absolutely delicious. I also bought some cassava chips to take home.
On the way to Rehana's house (to replace a broken sandal), we passed a massive pair of crossed elephant tusks that had been erected in honor of Queen Elizabeth.

Rehana's parents' house has a gorgeous view of "the creek", a section of waterway surrounding the island of Mombasa. Her mom served a delicious lunch of Masala fries and steak, accompanied by Indian tea with milk. Her older sister gave us some just-cut yellow coconuts from one of their trees - how could I refuse? The juice was much sweeter tasting than the green we had had earlier.

No visit to Mombasa is complete without some beach time, so we drove to what is known as Yul's Beach, walked, watched the camels giving rides on beach, carefully avoided the camel dung, and all the beach vendors. And apparently no walk on Yul's Beach is complete without some of Yul's famous ice cream - my scoop of lime was delicious.

Sunday I had to pay for the gastronomic excess of the day before. I spent most of the morning in bed, with no appetite at all. After a short visit to Dorothy's  - was forced to eat a piece of bread - Dorothy's friend Eunice came to pick me up, and we took a long matatu ride (accompanied by trusty Brian) to Bamburi for me to spend some time with her absolutely adorable one-year-old son Raymond. Raymond was diagnosed with cerebral palsy just a few months ago, and has made tremendous progress with daily therapy - he now extends his arms, tried to grab for things and is able to stand for short periods while holding on to a table.
We spent nearly two hours talking about adapting common materials to encourage arm and hand use (great ideas from Tots-N-Tech - http://tnt.asu.edu/ideas, and from Let's Play http://letsplay.buffalo.edu/toys/adapting-toys.pdf

Brian, who is only 13, was so good with Ray, trying foot exercises and massage techniques Dorothy had shown him, talking gently all the while. He would make such a good OT or OT Assistant.

Workshop Week - Part Two



(Most of) Our Group

 February 8-11 - this is it - the 4-day training on Augmentative and Alternative Communication for people who don't speak, with little bit of assistive "technology" thrown in to boot. The training was held at APDK (Association for the Physically Disabled in Kenya) Bombolulu. The site is lovely - a cultural center, craft workshops, day care, classrooms, housing, open restaurant, large, very reasonably priced gift shop - really a small "village."

Dorothy and Wellington, an Assessment Teacher* from Vihiga district (a 15+hour bus ride west) picked me up in a tuk-tuk at 7:30 that first morning and after 8 for the rest of the week. Wellington and the OT from Vihiga Hospital couldn't claim the longest ride, though. That distinction belongs to Martin, OT, and Simeon, Assessment Teacher, from Mumias, often a 20 hour bus ride.

It was really a mixed group of people -  classroom teachers (the largest group), Assessment Teachers, Occupational Therapists, a Physical Therapist, some CBR (Community Based Rehab) workers, several Speech Therapists (2 are long-term volunteers) and a student who would like to train to become a Speech Therapy Assistant.

People were so eager to learn and it was wonderful watching the light bulbs go off for some of them - some by the first afternoon, others not till the third day - you could see and hear it happening. Some people had such perceptive observations, although because of the size of the group most of those had to be encouraged to share them. They were most animated when they were in groups planning and evaluating solutions for different scenarios, and or their particular child (they had been asked to have a case study in mind).  They would argue passionately for (and sometimes against) selecting certain messages or visuals, trying to balance their desire for quantity with picture size, space available and the needs and abilities of the child.


What could we do to make this picture display better?


Everyone created a communication visual or board using materials I had brought to take for their particular child. That seemed to be one of the favorite activities, although they were also very engaged when I gave each group a child with a specific disability, a prepared set of visuals and asked them to come up with reasons the visual display would not be good match for the child and what could be done to "fix" it, to make it work for that child.


Selecting images for their projects was a big hit.



Through the magic of pulling names out of an empty backpack (no hats were available), some people were fortunate enough to take home a low-tech voice output device (Thanks again to Central Coast Children's Foundation, Sydspeak, and Ablenet!). Everyone got an assortment of handouts; most were guidelines/checklists for when they are ready to plan their next visual display. Judging from the evaluation comments, people felt they had learned a great deal of helpful information and would like to see follow-up presentations on AAC. 



*Assessment teachers are first trained as teachers, then get training in special education, then go back for additional training in assessment of various types of disabilities. The country is divided into districts, with each district operating its own Educational Assessment Resource Center (EARC).