Chapter 3: The WASP's 3rd Commandment

Walking along the path past the large classroom block on campus, squinting in the sun that shines directly overhead, and I mean directly, being so near the equator, I slow down a bit to really absorb the sight of the Starehe Girls’ Centre in the full light. Everyone has been emailing me and posting on my wall to “soak in” everything, which I took to imply a certain passivity that I don’t think I possess anywhere except when lying on a beach, “soaking” in the sun. I don’t think you can soak in an experience. You have to dive into it and swim around, seeing and learning anything you can get your hands on.

Back to that moment, walking in the sun towards my apartment after a long morning of typing exams and lesson schemes in the administrative block, I found myself looking up and around, despite the bright sunshine, at the incredible trees, branches, and flowers that lace themselves around the school’s plain white and gray buildings. I laid eyes, then, on a large palm plant that I had not noticed before, and the moment was complete.

I think it must be rule written nowhere for all temperate-dwelling whiteys like me that goes something like: “Thou shalt swoon at the sight of a palm tree.” Instantly thou shalt feel like you are in Paradise, where erryting is aire. So, I’m not in Paradise or Jamaica, but there are a few perfect things about living at Starehe.

For one, I sleep like a baby every night. And yes, this may have something to do with the lack of meat in my current diet, but it’s not something I lament. The second perfect thing about this place is the feeling I get watching two pairs of Form Twos (sophomores) twirl around the small, darkening music room, waltzing to a sappy Hayley Westenra song. [Laura, I wish you were here to show them some expert moves :) ] After trying to teach about 10 pairs of Form Ones (freshmen!) the waltz in that same tiny room, I can really appreciate the quality of learning that comes from small class sizes. Third, but certainly not last, I’ve learned how to cook chapattis. Yes. Me, cooking! And let me tell you, I believe you can rightly use the word “cook” only when flour or raw meat is involved. Anything else is baking, boiling, frying, or nuking. Chapattis are made of sugar, salt, oil, water, and FLOUR! I am a cook!