Open Door Policy

For the last couple weeks we've been keeping the door open to our apartment as we do our work. When I need wifi I have to stay in the apartment away from the kids. They're gone at school most of the day anyway but when they come home I can hear them in all of their joy. Now with our open door policy the kids have been coming in to our apartment for the first time. I like that they feel that comfortable with us, although there is still a need for boundaries.
I had a bunch of the little ones in my room this week and it was pure chaos. Their time in that space was short lived. Picture frames were dropped, sticky finger touched my computer, soccer balls were tossed around. I had to tell them to leave. Yesterday Kirk had a group of the little ones huddling around him as he worked on his computer. He looked up at me from in between the frail hands that surrounded his head and confessed "Rochelle, I think I need space to do my work". I laughed and quickly shuffled all of the youths outside.
With the kids being at school all day I do strive to maximize the time I have with them. That's pretty difficult when they have to bathe and shine their shoes and focus at devotions and then do homework and then go to sleep. But the open door policy helps a lot.
Amanda and I interviewed some of the staff on Bethshan for one of our final projects last semester. The head director made sure to tell us how he kept the door open to his office so the residents could freely stop in and say hello or sit for a time if they so desired. And they did. They felt as those every inch of Bethshan was their home, even the office of the head director. That's the atmosphere I wanted to cultivate by keeping the door open to my apartment. First Love is not the kid's orphanage, it's their home. And I'm a visitor. I'm a guest. I want them to feel...at home.
Last night Kirk, Anna, Eleanor, McKenzy and I watched the movie the Life of Pi. Ken, who serves at First Love sometimes was also present. Ken told 3 of the boys that they could come in and use his iPad if they were quiet an respectful. Indeed they were. I made popcorn for the group and also for the boys. It was very nice. Very communal.
Today the door is open and the kids have been flooding in and out, just as I like it.

The End

My favorite part about our groups and families class was when we would act out scenarios. I remember very clearly being a social worker for a family consisting of Mark, and Dorothy, and Amanda. It was a ton of fun and an excellent learning tool. I remember one of the first thing we were told to do with the our family of clients was to tell them how long our relationship would last. They needed to know the date of termination to make the transition easier.

I have just over a month left with these kids at First Love. Do they know that? I don’t remember telling them when I arrived. I know I told them I’d be here for 4 months but we haven’t talked about it recently. My departure is going to be a real heartbreaker no matter what. But I want to make it as easy as I can on these kids.

They’re orphans. They’ve experienced much pain and abandonment already. Four months is not a long time. It’s like I’m pouring into them and then leaving so soon. There’s one girl who refuses to talk to me. She’s not up for it. And I can’t blame her. I understand not opening up your heart and your life for someone who is only around for a hot minute. But I’m still here. And there’s still plenty of work to do. For instance, I can take intentional measures to prepare my kids for the end of our time together. I can remind them that it’s a month away and ask them what they think of it. The more discussion the better.

The Clinic

I have a regret.

Last week Anna and I helped to run the nurse's clinic at the orphanage. The children get a physical and dewormed every 6 months. I took temperatures and weight while Anna gave eye exams. There was a visiting nurse from Uganda, Eric who came to help our compound nurse, Kara. Both Eric and Kara would be in the room where they examined the kids one at a time. But then to save time Kara recommended that they split up and examine kids separately. This meant that Eric was examining orphans, both male and female children, in a room by himself.  I didn’t think this was a good idea. I thought that the kids’ safety was in danger as was Eric’s. If one of the kids claimed that Eric touched them inappropriately he would have no witnesses to defend him.

But I didn’t say anything. And I don’t know why.

I think maybe it was because it was the end of the day and we only had a few kids left. And I trusted Eric. I saw him as a good guy. I didn’t think he could do harm. But I know I should have said something. I have to protect the kids. And I didn’t do that. I feel kind of awful. Maybe if I talk to the compound nurse to let her know my concerns it will still help as preventative measures.

Bringing Home Work

As a social worker you should never want the change more than the client wants the change. That's a sign of unhealthy boundaries. One should also not enter romantic relationships with clients because that is just all sorts of messed up. I've heard tid bits here and there about all the rules and time periods that must past if indeed a social worker does want to pursue a client. I should read up on them more. It's a genuinely interesting process. All of these restrictions are in place in order to help the social worker retain professionalism and prevent burnout. It's wise to have such boundaries in place. Work is work. Play is play.

Considering that philosophy life can seem supremely enmeshed at First Love. I live at the place I work. I guess there are many jobs where that is the case. For the last four summers I’ve worked at a summer camp where I slept at the place I worked. I should be used to this. As I read my colleagues blogs and think about their social lives I realize how set apart my field placement really is. A few weeks ago we arranged for a driver to come pick me up on a Thursday night so I could go to a concert I was invited to. I felt kind of bad because we had to get the driver to come all the way out on an abnormal day and all. But then I think again about my colleagues in Chicago and how they work from 9-5 and then they’re free to live as they please. They can go out to eat or see a movie or walk around their neighborhood. Don’t mishear me. I am not complaining. Just acknowledging differences, stating facts.

I don’t feel burnt out but sometimes I would like to leave the compound and….do anything. I am a wanderer. An explorer. I just want to see different things. No matter where I am. But the life I’m living this semester is not so conducive to those desires. So we adapt. When I do leave the compound I go to places like elephant orphanages and beautiful white sand, clear water, tropical islands.  Unbelievable places. It’s a fair trade.

The Swing of Things

Many of my supporters back in the Land of the Free have only a partial understanding of what I'm doing here in Kenya. Most know I am serving at an orphanage, few know I am also serving at a school. And of those who know I am serving at an orphanage there is little knowledge as to what my responsibilities are here. I however would like to proudly announce that I know what I am doing here.

When I consider the progression of my knowledge of my purpose and my comfortability fulfilling that purpose I look to the four stages of group development.

Forming. This was the first couple weeks when I was still getting settled and moving furniture around in my room. This was when I was still figuring out the physical structures of First Love, and learning names of kids and staff. It wasn't too stressful, apart from the abroad aspect which is an extra touch. I think the most challenging part of the forming stage was figuring out how to live into the no-worry-no-hurry-hakuna-shida Kenyan culture while still being a diligent, degree seeking student.

Storming. This was a very distinct stage. I butted heads with too many people unintentionally. Overstepping boundaries, reeking of self-confidence. Anna and I decided that I am simply an offensive person. Haha. Can't help it. I think it's just how I do life and how I don't let things get to me. You gotta let em roll right of your back. Like a duck. That's a phrase.

Norming. I'd say the norming stage began once we started going to Karen C and I leaned how to best navigate that place. I tell you, if you're not determined and excellent at taking initiative, Karen C will be torturous. Luckily that self-confidence that brought much strife to the storming stage is a real gift for norming. I learned that if I want to teach classes at Karen C I have to take them. There's no waiting for teachers to ask you to assist them. There's no gently asking if you can help at all that day. No. If you want to teach a class at Karen C you have to go to the timetable, find what class you want and the respective teacher, then approach him or her with the text book and say "What was the last lesson you taught? I'll be teaching CRE today for class 7L." You just gotta jump in there. Get what's yours. It's a phrase.

This brings us to the exciting announcement on which this submission is centered. I am performing. I feel more than comfortable at First Love and like I previously said I have Karen C in the bag. I even know how to navigate driver James from Jeff's house to First Love IN THE DARK. #prostatus #notatourist #stillreekingofselfconfidence. There were a couple guests here last night and I was able to help prepare their rooms and offer natural hospitality because this is my home and I know what I'm doing here. It feels good.

As I continue to do work here I look forward to increasing even more my level of performance. It can only get better from here. Peace from the east baby. I just made that up. It's a phrase.

Spare the Rod

Last week I had a marvelous time serving at the VBS style kid's club. Although I didn't participate in any skits, I was responsible for leading the young students in an hour of field games. The field was a dusty plot of land. There was one puddle over which I marched my troops before I had them run to and from a not-so-near fence to burn off some immediate energy. It was fun. I would have liked to learn more names but our week stay with over 100 kids did not really permit us to commit too many names to heart.

In between lessons I would go and sit outside with the youths and allow them to look at me. I wish I could say there was more structure to our time together but there was not. As unconventional as I may be in the midwest United States, I am all the more queer here. Piercings, hair, complexion, accent, word choice, clothing. It's all entertainment for them. I take no offense. 

Once while I was sitting being examined I witnessed a teacher hurrying some young boys to class but hitting them repeatedly with a long, thick stick. The boys winced but didn't yell. This was simply protocol. They were not moving fast enough for the teachers liking so they get hit. Corporal punishment is the means of discipline at many schools in Kenya. Although a bit unsettled by the sight of it, I was able to accept this practice as a cultural difference. Until the next day.

While sitting in the office of the school I witnessed a boy in the cast and this boy's mother sitting and speaking with the head teacher. Some days earlier this boy's wrist was broken as he was being discipline by a teacher with a rod. The boy had to go to the hospital and everything. I asked if anything would be done to the teacher and I was told that he was being made to apologize but that was it.

As a social worker what should I think of this?

That is a question I am consistently asking myself this semester. How do I adhere to the core value of social justice in this situation? It is good that the teacher is being made to apologize but more must be done. Proactive measures should be taken. If I speak up will I just sound like a naive American uncomfortable with the differences in public education? Does it matter what I sound like? Well I can tell you this I didn't say anything. I just felt too green. I had no standing with anyone. Since then however I've taken intentional steps to learn to what extents the institutions at which I serve (First Love, Karen C Primary) exercise their right to utilize corporal punishment. I want to know more before I interrupt a system.

Ahh ethical dilemmas. I'm thankful I took a 2 hour class at 8am on Friday mornings so I can know how to approach you.

Relationships

This week another long-term volunteer arrived at First Love. This volunteer, Gail will be staying at First Love for an even longer time than Anna and I. She has been serving with the orphanage for many years prior as well. When people have arrived at the orphanage to serve who have a long history with First Love I have found myself being a bit intimidated by their apparent standing. I know that they know more than I do about how First Love runs and from where she comes. I want to come off as humble in their presence and not an over-confident-4-month intern. Gail seems sweet. She has already invited Anna and I to her apartment for supper. Perhaps she will become a mother-aged comrade.

Colleague relationships are a curious specimen around these parts. If there is not a language and or culture barrier separating us there is 30 or more years of life. In social work no matter what sector I will be serving I will always have colleagues. These relationships will be most enjoyable if they're at least civil, preferably fulfilling containing mutual interest. As social work colleagues we should be hold each other accountable to the standards we work under in the NASW Code of Ethics. We should be able to confront one another in love and expect to be confronted when we ourselves have fallen short.

I have built a solid rapport with most of the African staff here at First Love. Most of them speak english really well, a skill for which I am thankful. The young women with whom I have grown quite comfortable are all 20somethings and work in the kitchen. They know how to use a knife like nobody's business. In the mornings I make sure to walk over to the kitchen where they have been serving since 5am (at least) to say my hellos. Throughout the day when I have a free moment I feel welcomed to head over to the kitchen and share laughs with those women.

With others however there have been less laughs and more disagreements. This is to be expected as I know people do not always get along. And the Lord even gives us standards of noble, mature confrontation in Matthew chapter 18. As professionals it is important that we hold to noble and mature standards of confrontation whether referencing the Word of God or not. With some people whom I have unknowingly offended, their means of confrontation have been less direct than I desire and than I think is helpful for maintaining respectful team relationships. This, I've learned is a very Kenyan characteristic. Apparently Kenyans are very passive when it comes to conflict. Those who passive-aggressively approached me (or approached someone else about me) were not all Kenyan but they seem to have taken to this Kenyan way of life.

Now I know that I am in a new culture and I have to adjust to the way of life around me. But when certain habits of this culture prove more unhelpful than progressive to our common goal of serving well at First Love am I still expected to adjust? When the characteristics of this culture are borderline going against the Holy Scriptures should I adapt? Hmm.  Something to think about indeed.

I am eager to continue building relationships with the long and short-term servants who pass through First Love.