Mzungu and you know it!!!

I realised yesterday that no matter how long I live and work here and try to get speech and language therapy recognised and understood in the different places I work in… To the majority of people I meet and work with, I will always just be ‘the mzungu’ (white person).

Kenyan friends and colleagues always say to me ‘it’s just the uneducated people who think of you like that’… well, a lot of the time it is people from low socio-economic backgrounds that think of me as just the mzungu – the matatu drivers and conductors, market sellers, motorbike taxi folk, people wandering the street… however, a lot of the time it is well educated people – doctors, nurses, teachers -  who think of me as just the mzungu too.

I was on the wards at Vihiga District Hospital yesterday, and as always, I’m greeted with the same blank expression from a lot of the staff members when I introduce myself (again), explain what I do (again) and ask if there’s anyone on the wards that need to see me. I was referred to see a patient on the male ward and his notes were missing after I’d seen him with David and Florence, so I returned an hour later to write in them. After updating them, I explained what I’d written to the interns, possibly doctors, and nurses (they all wear white coats to give them that instant ‘status’ that I never know who’s who) and a white coated man came up to me and said ‘hello mzungu’. I stopped, looked at him in absolute disbelief at his complete disrespect for me, not just as a professional, but as a human being, bit my tongue and replied ‘I am not a mzungu’ and walked off. I have a reel of things to say back to someone, but I was determined to remain as professional as possible, so I kept quiet. This is a man who is supposedly educated. This is when it dawned on me… no matter what I do as a professional here, to most people. I am just a mzungu…

It’s an automatic barrier and block to the work I am trying to do, and it definitely slows down the potential progress that could be made. I am however eternally grateful to those colleagues of mine who have never, ever treated me as anything but Rachael. These are the people who are going to make a difference in Kenya.

So actually, as tiring as it gets: I’m bloody proud to be a mzungu. Why? Because I get to work with the elite in Kenya – those open, friendly, passionate, ambitious, caring, inspiring Kenyans, who every day work tirelessly for their communities and people with disabilities. This makes each and every one of them 20 million, trillion times better then that man in the white coat.

"The present will help you go forward"

After a much needed break over Christmas and New Year, I’ve definitely come back to work with a bang. Exceedingly busy, some awesome moments, but as always mixed in with examples of inadequacies and corruption… everywhere.

We’re really lucky to have our new SLT, Rachel Bell, volunteering with us for the next 10 weeks. I keep saying it’ll give me some breathing space, but really, that’s wishful thinking! It just means I have a little bit more time to do the things that have been on my ‘to do’ list for months now…

I took Rachel to the school she’s going to be working at for the next couple of months Madegwa. It’s an inclusive primary school with a special needs unit attached.  The unit has been split into the littleys and the older children/teenagers. 5 teachers work here, all focusing on different areas, such as vocational skills, academic skills (for those who can access it), early language development and total communication using sign language. It’s definitely a real rarity to see a school like this, and everyone was genuinely welcoming and friendly… everyone that is until the county representative came to visit. I did my usual bit of professional schmoozing, he asked where we were from and what we were doing. After explaining he said “yes but, these children, how are they going to come up when they’re hungry and don’t have pens or books?” I explained that wasn’t a problem I was trying to tackle, that I was working to enable children with disabilities a right to an education and an acceptance within their society. He said “yes but aren’t you going to give us money”… I was shocked. Outraged. Here was a government official blatantly asking me for money. On the basis that I’m white. No other reason, but that. I told him it wasn’t my problem to fix and that the government were responsible for ensuring its children were fed and had resources in schools. Not me… He again said “so.. no money??” I said no, we were giving FREE knowledge to teachers and health professionals and offering a FREE health service. Not money…

Thankfully the conversation soon ended or else I don’t know what else I would say. My heart was literally pounding and my blood boiling. The audacity of the man…

This is why foreign aid has ruined countries like Kenya. It’s developed a reliance, an attitude that a ‘white’ person is rich and here to give money, an ignorance and a belief that they, in government, don’t need to accept responsibility for their people…

I also saw a similar attitude when I spoke to a clinical officer at Vihiga Hospital about the exciting opportunity I had for the staff from different medical teams to receive a free workshop addressing the importance of communicating with their patients by an expert doctor visiting from Sweden. I was asked what the incentive would be… I told them free knowledge, that in most countries in the world participants have to pay for THEMSELVES and not be paid to attend by the facilitators… that’s right, there’s an expectation of being paid transport costs (even if the training’s being held in their workplace), lunch as well as a sitting allowance. They are actually paid to sit in a training session. Again something that’s continuously reinforced by NGOs… it’s so infuriating. Needless to say, I didn’t try and fight it. Instead I’m running the workshop at the hospital in Kisumu, where (my hero) Wilson who’s an OT I work with each week, has worked tirelessly to get the workshop happening there, with no incentive. It’s happening on Thursday and I can’t wait to attend.

Think I’ll stop ranting there, and move on to the more positive stuff – and there’s been some corkers. This no doubt outweighs the crap stuff, but sometimes the horrible side of it all has to be shared too..

Thursday sees the 3^rd session for the Stroke Support Group in Kisumu. The 2^nd one was in January and it was incredible. I came away literally buzzing. It truly encompasses the whole concept of a ‘support group’. One of the ladies who attends had her stroke 6 months ago and is still struggling to accept and come to terms with what’s happened to her. She finds the support group an outlet for her frustrations, anxieties and sadness. The others in the group rally around her to help her start dealing with and accepting it. They offer the counselling that isn’t available to her here, and it’s wonderful to watch and be a part of. My favourite quote was from Josephine – “the present will help you go forward. Don’t look back, backwards is down, and down is the grave.” Meaning that looking back to how you were before your stroke is no way to overcome it and will only leave you feeling down and depressed. Instead, look at where and who you are now. This is how you’ll move forward. I loved it.

Parent support group – this is being run and organised by Florence, our newly employed Parent Liaison Support Officer… It’s going from strength to strength and they’ve just received registration as a community based organisation which means they can now start doing small businesses and applying for funding from the government. Rachel will also be working with them each week to offer much needed SLT to the children.

Florence will now be working 3 mornings a week with us supporting at our different clinics to help parents understand the difficulties their child has, provide advice on communication and interaction with their child, and empower the parents to ask people questions about their child. So they are no longer in the dark about what treatment their child is getting and can rightfully make informed decisions about their child’s well being.

I work with the most beautiful little girl called Faith. She’s got cerebral palsy and her committed father brings her to therapy each week in Kisumu. It’s been an absolute delight working with this family – they totally understand the importance of therapy and in working alongside the teachers to enable Faith to get the best possible opportunities. It’s been lovely working with her Dad in enabling him to accept his daughter and see that she has a future beyond her disability…

This is definitely my most favourite part of my job here – working with families in supporting them accepting their child. It’s frustrating, difficult, but 99% of the time the most fulfilling part of my role here, and it absolutely makes any therapy I do more successful..

New Year resolution – write more blogs!!!