Present Plan to Director
August 31, 2015
"There is no greater disability in society than the inability to see a person as more." - Hensel
Though the children of Nairobi are on holiday, I was able to visit a local village school this morning. This particular school has been open for only one year and its formation was funded through a UK missionary group. It accommodates some 800 students - all girls, and costs 300 USD per semester (three semesters a year). It takes most families in this area at least two months to make that amount of money, so this reaffirms that the average family in Kenya cannot afford to send their child to school.
At this school, there were three buildings: one building was for the primary school, another for secondary (the outside painted with wild animals and children playing), and the third was dormitory and washrooms. The guard walked me from building to building across fields of tall grass being cut by roaming cows. He explained what each room was for and the types of programs they offer. Each room was minimal in what it contained: a few benches and tables and a chalkboard; the dormitories the same. Yet, as my guide explained, electricity, cement walls, and solid roofs (as opposed to mud walls and thatched roofs) were in fact a luxury for the area. As we made our way down a long hall of wooden bunk beds and teal trunks, we reached a metal door with a sign that read "we are all in the same race - the human race", which included figures of children and adults and one figure of someone in a wheelchair; I was impressed by the inclusion of such an image.
We then made our way to the washrooms. The school did not have plumbing because it would cost 5,000 USD, too much for the school to afford. In turn, the students of the school would need to collect water twice a day for drinking, bathing, and to water the garden.
He asked if I wanted to see where the river was. I said "sawa" (meaning "okay"), and he took my hand, placed a bright pink bucket in it and pointed across the field to a fence covered in barbed wire. We walked for several minutes, being followed by curious locals, and arrived at a stream, brown in color, with two women knees deep in the water washing their clothing. He pointed to the water and said "this is where the girls drink from and bathe in." And with that I took off my shoes climbed down the dirt hill and joined the two women in order to fill my pink bucket. Once full, I was told to place the bucket on my head as it would be easier to walk with. I then made my way back up the hill, through the fence, passing brown and white grazing cows towards the school where I would then water the plants. If the girls did not make this trip twice a day, they would be without water to drink, bathe, clean their clothes, and tend to their garden.
I asked the man giving me the tour about their students with special needs. I asked what would they do if they could not get to the river or carry water... he explained that he did not know of very many children like that, so he did not know how to answer the question. When I pointed to the sign with the wheelchair on it, he smiled and said that they help them if they need, but he was unfamiliar with any special classes or therapies or teachers for "those types of students." He himself had never heard of autism or any other developmental disabilities. This is very common here as well as in many other areas of the world. I flashed back to a conversation I had with the staff of the Global Autism Project, who told me that in many developing countries, if they know what autism is, it is often seen as a curse or a way that the family is being spiritually punished for some past sin. Even well-meaning families lock their children up in cages or tie them to trees in order to keep them from wandering off. While it isn't the norm anymore, there are still places in the world where a diagnosis of autism is like a death sentence.
Visiting this school helped to further shape my understanding of the hardships that the people of Kenya experience. The sheer tenacity and passion for growth is so incredibly evident, but the lack of resources truly interferes with any progress. This was yet another indication that Kaizora should put themselves in a position to collaborate with the community including local schools; something I would mention when I got back to the centre.
Following this visit, I made my way back to Kaizora to meet with the director. Though I was somewhat reluctant because of her views of the government, I was nonetheless very excited and optimistic about the plan. We met in her office and again shared Kenyan masala chai.
I presented the plan of action I developed based on the conversations we had and the resources I could find in Nairobi. Her response was welcoming and receptive! We discussed a timeline for implementation that she would feel comfortable with:
- Within the first year:
- Begin expanding the board
- Register with the National Council for Persons with Disabilities (NCPWD)
- Personalize the letter I created for employers, etc.
- Present letter and its purpose to local employers, schools, at events, etc.
- Within the second year:
- Begin the grant process (Economic Empowerment and Infrastructure)
- Identify training opportunities for staff members
- Three to five years:
- Hire manager to reduce duties of director
- Implement vocational and transition training for staff
- Expand services of Kairzora to include transition, vocational, etc.
I knew that my time in Kenya was coming to an end, and I was optimistic about the future. With a heavy but hopeful heart I said good bye to Kaizora and promised to keep in touch with the centre director through the Global Autism Project. The work she had already done was amazing, and I couldn't wait to work with her going forward.