Matatus'R'Us

Matatus are an essential component of the transportation grid in Kenya. By definition, a matatu is a 15-passenger van, with three bench seats and 2 rows of 3 seats each. The seats in rows 3 and 4 are very narrow, with a very narrow space between the folding seat next to the sliding door and the 2 seats. It's by far the cheapest - and least comfortable - way to get from point A to point B

A moving matatu with 15 or fewer passengers is a rare sight, however. I don't know if I've ever seen a matatu tout turn any potential passenger away. There's always room for one (or two or three) more.; after all, the tout's cut for each trip is based on the number of passengers he can cram in.  25 adults is not uncommon. Adults who are sometimes accompanied by children, live chickens, goats, potted trees, sacks of potatoes, and baskets of greens.

Here's how they do it. 

 a) at least 4 people (sometimes 5) are expected to fit on each bench seat;
 b) children are expected to sit on laps or stand;
 c) rows 3 and 4, the ones with 3 seats, including the folding one - are expected to hold 4 passengers each;
 d) the narrow space between the folding seats and the rest of the seats in those rows is sometimes considered a seat as well.

It's essential to have small money on you for a matatu trip. That's because the tout often "forgets" to give you change, or the correct change, and, particularly with westerners, will hope that you won't remember the rate you were promised or will be too well-bred to keep pestering them.

It's also essential to keep your wits about you and keep your hands and eyes on your belongings, particularly in the city. Enough said.

While the ride in an inter-city matatu may be uncomfortable, it's much less frightening than riding in an urban matatu. Urban drivers have no fear, and urban matatu drivers take pride in their recklessness, their willingness to . They speed, they create lanes where none exist, they race to get their vehicles into awkward spots first, then become enraged with their competitors when "someone" has to back up to avoid losing a mirror. Drivers are often egged on by their passengers, and particularly egregious maneuvers are loudly cheered.

Trainings in Mumias

The highlight of my week in Mumias was the series of communication trainings I did with Rachel and David. The first was set aside for teachers from surrounding communities, and focused on the use of pictures and picture boards for children with communication difficulties to use.

Two days later came a session aimed at parents of special needs children. We covered all different types of communication and shared strategies for incorporating language into their children's daily routines.

The third training, for community health workers, was the most satisfying - and not just because of the rapport David and I were able to establish with the participants - who, by the way, are all volunteers. The focus was on techniques for teaching parents how to infuse language enrichment into multiple daily activities with their children.  Group members spoke at length about the poverty in their districts, and we were able to adapt the discussions to take that into account. Most of them really "got" the message, appreciated the information, and seemed confident that they would use it. Their enthusiasm was truly palpable.

The community health workers learned so much from each other
that it seemed only fitting that they recognize each other and
pass out their certificates for the day's training.

I hope to take part in more of this kind of training in the future. The information is relevant to all parents, not just parents of children with special needs; special materials, toys or books aren't necessary for family success; there is such a wealth of knowledge the outreach workers have to share; and, getting this information out through community members the families already trust has a much greater impact than having parents hear it from outside "experts."

Of Locks and lights

Our hotel room in Mumias had such a unique system of locks - I just have to share it.

Outside view	Inside view

The door is padlocked and bolted from the inside at night, but locking the door from the outside when we leave in the morning is a very tight, two-handed process. It goes something like this:

- left arm goes through the little, square "window" you see in the picture on the left, and reaches up toward the sliding bolt (top of the left and right pictures).

 - left hand pushes the sliding bolt to the right and through the latch, and places the locking arm squarely over the eye hook. 

- right arm squeezes through the remaining space in the window, holding the padlock.

 - left hand slides the padlock through the eye hook (and thus also over the locking arm).

 - right hand clamps the lock shut.  

 - both arms withdraw and right hand tries to pull the little door closed (that door doesn't lock from the outside).  

Unlocking the door from the outside reverses the procedure, but adds the necessity of reaching up to the padlock and blindly unlocking it, removing the padlock, and trying to slide the bolt far enough to the left to open the door.

We just used the one lock to lock the door when we left for the day. There were 3 sliding bolts on the door to close when we were ready to shut down for the night, including one on the back of the little square door.

Because of  frequent power outages - and infrequent use of the hotel's generator - there was often a ghostly glow emanating from our room. Alicia and I would hunker down with our electronics under our mosquito nets (malaria is a serious problem in Western Kenya) for an hour or two of computer time, phone time, reading and conversing, booklights ever by our sides. Those booklights were lifesavers. We used them to help us see our computer/iPad keyboards, take our cold showers by, and even do our laundry.

My Week in Mumias - Parental Expectations

Parents everywhere want the best for their children. Above all, they want to know that their kids are "OK," that they're developing on schedule physically and mentally. That their bodies, minds and speech are all developing on schedule.

Parents in Kenya are no different. Inability to communicate through speech is one huge concern for most parents there. If their child could just speak, everything else would fall into place. Serious educational challenges, severe behavior problems -- these are not things they ask anyone for help with. But speaking? Now that is a problem! And of course the "solution" is to find an "expert" who will "fix" the problem.

In the week I spent in Mumias we saw numerous children whose primary parental complaint was "he (she) doesn't speak." Even parents of toddlers had such concerns. We saw two adorable little boys - one 14 months old, the other 17 months old - whose mothers were worried because they were not yet speaking. Both boys showed normal development in non-speech areas - locomotion, fine motor skills, attention, turn-taking, appropriate manipulation and play with toys - and both vocalized an assortment of sounds. Rachael assured both mothers their sons were functioning within normal limits, and showing all of the precursors to the development of speech. We gave each mother strategies for creating a language-rich environment during play and daily activities.

Other cases in point:
 - 6 year old Delores - hyperactive, distractible, screams when she can't have what she wants or when someone attempts to take something away. Her mother accepted her behavior with a shrug, but wanted to know why she didn't talk.
 - 10 year old Alfred - mild hearing loss, enrolled in a primary class (5-6 year olds) this year but lagging far behind the younger children, follows instructions when accompanied by gestures, can't group items by categories. Here again, his father was happy he was in school, but wanted him to "talk more."

My Week in Mumias - Meet and Greet

I had wanted to come to Western Kenya because of the Mumias Educational Assessment Resource Center, which has the reputation of  being the best EARC in the country. Two Mumias EARC staff members - Martin (occupational therapist) and Simon (assessment teacher) - had attended the 4-day AAC/Assistive Technology workshop I had presented in Mombasa last year. I was so impressed with the questions and perceptive comments Martin asked, the obvious concern and affection both men had for the people they served, and their sense of dedication to their work; I knew I wanted to work with them if I returned to Kenya.

My roommate (more about her later) and I took a tuk-tuk to the EARC Monday morning with 3 heavy suitcases of donations we had brought. Everyone ooh-ed and ah-ed when the stacks of shoes, pants, shirts, splinting materials, OT, AAC and school supplies were spread across their conference table. Martin and Lillian, the orthopedic technician, were particularly appreciative of the 6" x 9" samples of splinting materials. I understood why when Martin showed me the bits and pieces of material they were currently relying on - many in the 3 to 5 inch range. A big thank you to Bill Schuhle of Patterson Medical, who donated the set of samples.

As I was introduced to the rest of the EARC staff, the reason for their exceptional reputation became clear. There is a culture of dedication and commitment that is supported and nurtured by director Martha Odhiambo. Team members are proactive in finding and serving children with disabilities and their families. They are supportive of each other and seamlessly filled in when one or more of their co-workers was out of the building. And all willingly step in to translate when needed.

I also finally got to meet speech and language therapists Rachael Gibson and David Rochus, who were going to be spending a few days with me in Mumias. Rachael is a volunteer therapist through VSO, which helps place and coordinate therapists in developing countries. She has been working at the EARC in Vihiga since last summer and coming to Mumias a few days a month (about 65 km away, but a 3-5 hour matatu ride). She's nearly done with her 1-year term and is planning a return to Kenya after a few months of travel in southern Africa and a 4-month return to the UK to raise funds for her second tour.

Also at the Vihiga EARC this past year has been David Rochus, a member of the first graduating class of the Speech and Language Therapy program at Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda. Growing up in neighboring Uganda has provided David with invaluable insights into cultural norms and expectations in East Africa. David has applied to graduate programs in Speech-Language Pathology in the UK and is waiting to hear about financial aid.

Photos Not Included

(sigh) I had been waiting and waiting to borrow a laptop so I could get web access and so I could insert photos in these blog posts, since it's not possible to use pictures when blogging on an iPad.

Alas, this Windows 7 laptop the EARC is letting me borrow can't read my camera card ( wrong type - SDHC; wrong size 4G). So, no gorgeous shots of the Indian Ocean; no photo guide to baking a cake in an outdoor cookstove, and no intriguing pictures of our medieval door lock. Those will have to wait until I return to my trusty Mac at home.
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And yes, I do intend to fill in the nearly two weeks of missing posts.

The Road to Mumias

No water since last night. Not from the shower or sink. I had to use my drinking water to wash up in the morning.

Nairobi is in the midst of a water shortage. In the best of times the municipal water authority has never been particularly reliable. With the recent bursting of several large water mains, nightly news reports show long lines of people waiting their turns to fill large jugs with water to use for cleaning, bathing, washing clothes, and, after boiling, for drinking.

Mumias is a small town in Western Kenya, north of Lake Victoria. The scenery en route is beautiful. Most of the road is lined with trees. Part of the "highway" (one lane each way) overlooks Kenya's famous Rift Valley, and the vistas are breathtaking - gently rolling hills, small farms, a patchwork of lush green fields - thanks to recent rains - as far as the eye can see.

The condition of the highway varies. The first 150 kilometers or so is smoothly paved, with each lane clearly marked. Kenyans drive on the left side of the road, so passing is on the right. While our driver was by no means reckless, it's always a bit unnerving watching your vehicle heading straight toward an oncoming van or truck. One of the "perks" of sitting close enough to have a nearly unobstructed view of oncoming traffic.

The next stretch of road is . . . challenging. Potholes of every size, shape and depth cover the road, many courtesy of recent heavy rains. Our driver was determined to avoid these at a ll cost - more out of concern for his vehicle's suspension than for our comfort, I'm sure. It took every ounce of skill he had to manuever the bus around these obstacles, as well as to avoid the cows goats and sheep grazing along the berm who decided to cross the road to visit friends on the other side, AND the occasional large boulders that had not yet been removed following a recent landslide.