In collaboration with PASSIONS, VOICE OF ASIA is proud to present timeless articles from the archives, reproduced digitally for your reading pleasure. Originally published in PASSIONS Volume 43 in 2013, we present this story on Ayne Zarof and how her experience volunteering in Kenya changed her worldview.
As the airplane slowly emerges out of the whispery, white clouds and steers towards land, views of tall acacia trees begin to appear in the cabin windows. Standing strong with their large trunks and wide spreading branches, these umbrella-shaped trees look like exact replicas from the famous Disney movie ‘The Lion King’. Then, without even reaching ground, can I feel that I have finally arrived in Africa.
PASSIONS very own, Ayne Zarof, writes on how it is certainly better to give than to receive. Sharing her experiences of taking 5 months off to volunteer in local schools and orphanages in Kenya before enrolling in university, she pens down the unique stories of the beautiful, inspiring and captivating people who have given her an unforgettable and life-changing Kenyan adventure.
Karibuni! (Welcome!)
As I walk into Baraka Primary School for my first visit as a volunteer, it is amazing how months of preparation of flight tickets, visas and vaccines has led up to this day. Karanja, my adopted Kenyan father was at the airport upon my arrival, holding a large sign with ‘AYNE’ on it with big, bold letters. “Jumbo! I am Karanja, your Kenyan dad for the next few months!” he said while smiling as he shook my hand. After a lengthy introduction to the culture of Kenya, we drove up to Nakuru where I visited my Kenyan home and was introduced to my ‘mother’, Helen.
Together with the other 6 volunteers who had flown from the United Kingdom, we visit the school’s classrooms which we are meant to teach in during our stay. Up till now, I have never noticed how having a different skin colour can ignite so much excitement as children in chequered uniforms are jumping up and down, running around, all while shouting, “Mzungu! Mzungu! (European! European!)” from the top of their little lungs. We move into one of the classrooms named 5 Mombasa to discover the condition inside. The classroom is dark as they can only rely on the natural light coming from the holes in the walls, the blackboard is dusty from the chalk and the children are cramped up with 4 students per table, all of them sharing pens and books.
But despite all that, as we are introduced to the class by their teacher, their faces light up with smiles while they wave frantically, each wanting to catch our attention. They are glad to hear that it is almost time for their Physical Education class and we are given the honour of becoming coaches for the day. As groups of little girls crowd around me, each trying their best to hold my hand, I am pulled to play games on the school’s bare and grass-less field. They take out a plastic bag filled with sand which is tied into a ball and they teach me the ropes to their traditional games which leave me winded as it involved a lot of running.
They teach me how to sing and dance like a Kenyan with ‘Waka Waka Eh Eh’ being the popular tune and I have as much fun trying to mimic their moves as they have fun laughing at my failing attempts. When I had a little bit of time off to sit and catch my breath, they circle around me, hugging me tightly as they explore my hair under my scarf. They look at me in confusion as they ask why my skin was of a different shade from theirs. When I tell them that I am from Malaysia, they look at me in utter confusion. “It is near China,” I explain. A resounding and long “Ooooohh” is heard and they laugh as they place their little fingers on my small eyes, completely fascinated from what is in front of them.
I notice that their uniforms are tattered and torn in places, and have slippers for shoes although most of them run barefoot. With their hair tied up in tight braids, they play creatively despite having no gym equipment or even a simple ball and yet they seem like they have no worries in the world. And as they smile widely as they jump up and down, it makes me wonder how they could be so happy with so little, causing me to be grateful with the luxuries that I experience back home. When it was time to leave, I hug each one of them goodbye with the promise that I will be back soon.
Asante Sana(Thank You Very Much)
Time passes ever so quickly and I eventually get into the groove of teaching. My first class was a shock to my system as I had no previous experience teaching children before. So suddenly being abandoned with 70 children in a class to take care of was very daunting. But thankfully, they didn’t sense my fear, as the students were very excited to receive the ‘Mzungu’ teacher and more often than not, the classes would consist of me asking questions or holding quizzes and the students enthusiastically putting their hands up to answer. They are really bright kids, these Kenyans, but some of them are left behind because of the sheer large size of the class and it saddens me to know that it is impossible to help every single one of them.
Between the English and Mathematics classes, I spend my time marking homework in the teacher’s lounge. Even then, the students would poke their heads through the door and say, “Habari Cha Ann? (How are you, Teacher Ann?) You teach my class today, please?” Although I cannot fulfil all their wishes, I try to use my time playing with the students at the field. They teach me a traditional game called ‘Sing Merry-o” where we stand in a circle holding hands and sing. These little but memorable experiences are what makes me love being here and love being a teacher.
I bring my art class outdoors so that they could draw a beautiful tree that is located outside the classroom. We sit in a circle and they excitedly carry their tables outside to really complete the task well. Even after they have drawn their miti (tree), each of them would come up to me numerous times to show me their drawings of cats, dogs, elephants, people and books that they drew with their shared pens on their stained paper that they have ripped out from their donated exercise books. The aim of drawing more pictures than asked is so that they could receive more stars on their work from me – something that they rarely receive from teachers on typical school days. “Asante cha! (Thank you, teacher!)” they chant as they smile widely, appreciating their well-earned stars.
Ninakupenda (I Love You)
After school, I would normally drag my newly bought but rickety bicycle out to cycle to the orphanage. Named ‘Jamii Children’s Home’, it is a 30 minute cycle away from my house through puddles and pot holes, but I seldom complain about the journey once I reach the children’s home as my friends whom I have come to love are always there to greet me. Although supposedly a home for 30 children, from toddlers to teens, the children’s home is in a really bad shape with the double-decker beds being brittle and unsafe while the mattresses are almost non-existent as they are torn up and thin.
The halls and rooms smell like urine as the compound has no lights to guide the little ones to use the toilet at night while the children are always wearing the same worn-out clothes as they feed on the common menu of ugali and vegetables every day. As devastating as that sounds, it is sadder still to think that these children are among the lucky ones as there are so many children out there without homes and without care.
One of my best friends here is a skinny 12-year old boy who goes by the name Kamau. He hasn’t any parents and although I have tried many times to dig up his story, Kamau rarely wants to open up as all he is interested in is spending time with me and my green bicycle as I let him and his good mate, Tibi, cycle around the compound on it. Another lovely face that I see often is Kevin. The baby of the group, he is three years old and together with his sister, Margaret, both of them had lost their parents through HIV. “ANN!!” he would scream as I come through the gates lifting his short hands up in the air as a sign that he wants me to carry him. All volunteers have a soft spot for Kevin as with his round tummy and contagious laugh, he is the best person to squeeze tight.
Little Mary is a loud mouth genius – always pointing out her Kenyan knowledge to us as she braids the volunteers’ hair. “Why can’t I see your hair, Ann? I want to braid it,” she would often ask me. I would always reply with a smile and say, “Next time, Mary.” and she would nod in approval. Although on our visits, we, volunteers do not do much other than play with the children, I believe it makes a huge difference to their day as they have the opportunity to indulge in the undivided attention that they receive from us causing them to smile more and certainly laugh more – and that is enough to make our days too.
Kumi na tisa (Nineteen)
Since they seldom have parties or celebrations, I made it a point to throw a big party at the children’s home during my birthday. I figured what better way to turn 19 than to treat the kids to a fun feast? So beforehand, biscuits, juice, cakes and spaghetti noodles and tomatoes were prepared so that we could all collectively cook for the feast. I strap the 19 bags of noodles on my bicycle and cycle down to the orphanage and after I arrive, I place the noodles in the big cooking pan to boil in the collected rain water.
While walking into the hall to prepare the music for the occasion, I am blown away to see the hall fully decorated in balloons, posters and ribbons. A massive sign saying ‘Happy Birthday Ayne!’ hangs on the wall and my eyes well up with tears. “Surprise!” the kids shouted and I begin to hug all of them, feeling so grateful for their effort. I initially thought that this day is especially for them, but now I learn that even if they have little to give, they will still make it a point to give whatever they have for the benefit of others.
I connect my iPod and as dance beats blast out from their in-house speakers, the children start to dance joyfully, each showing their own take on the Kenyan dance scene. And boy can they dance! With every one of them being naturally talented, all I can see are happy faces and wide grins as they pull me onto the dance floor to join them in the festivities.
Between dancing and receiving stack loads of handmade cards from the children, we prepare for the feast by handing out sweets and biscuits together with a plateful of soggy, yet edible spaghetti. Watching the children sitting on the grass, carefully picking up the pieces of noodles as they experiment with its texture and taste, is so humbling for me as for most of them, this is their first time indulging themselves with Italian food. “I like spaghetti!” Mary shouts happily as I catch Margaret licking her bowl clean while asking for more.
Later, they pull me into the hall for the secret ‘grand ceremony’. Oddly, the kids rush outside as the MC of the ceremony distracts me by asking me general questions over the microphone. After a few minutes, the kids re-enter the hall, this time with another surprise – their faces are covered with glitter as each of them holds a lighted candle tightly in their hands. There are 19 of them.
As I scream in delight, I feel overwhelmingly touched by what I am witnessing and weep tears of pure joy. The children surround the table and start to sing the birthday song while the whole hall erupted in claps and shouts as I am asked to run around the table, blowing each candle out. I complete this Kenyan ritual by adding a kiss on each child’s cheek whilst hugging them tightly, telling them how much they mean to me. Since the first time that I stepped foot in this country, this has been one thing that I have been afraid of – that I will learn and benefit more from them than they could ever benefit and learn from me. And to my dismay, I believe that my fear is slowly coming true.
Kwaheri Angu Rafiki(Farewell My Friend)
On my last day in Kenya, my heart was heavy with sadness. Saying goodbye to them is like saying goodbye to family for I have grown to know and love the children like they were my own flesh and blood. However, what I take from this experience is nothing but priceless lessons and memories, as I learnt that yes, helping people is hard – it requires commitment, time, money and also emotional strain, but at the end of the day, it is definitely worth the sacrifice. It is so easy to elicit a smile of pure happiness from these kids – just a hug or a plate of spaghetti can do so much. It brings you back to the reality of life; that the ability to give and find happiness is a lot easier than we believe it is.
Going to a foreign country and abandoning all familiar comforts of home is scary, but fear is what brings out the best in us. Thank God for fear, for without it, people will not challenge themselves to be better in this world. Everyone should see sights, experience different cultures and learn from ‘strangers’ because experience is by far, the best teacher.
The world has so much to offer and only when you meet and live awhile with different ethnicities, religions, cultures and environments, will you really understand that the social barriers we erect around us need not be there. Kindness becomes a norm. We learn to love unconditionally. We learn to accept all people as one. And this liberation of your mind, soul and emotions truly sets you free.
Those wishing to experience similar life-changing experiences abroad, visit www.changingworlds.co.uk and take a step closer to being part of a global village.
