15squarestreet for the Shine Academy

On Friday, 30th September 2011, more than a hundred of the most awesome people in Hong Kong gathered at 15 Square Street to have a drink and support the kids of the Shine Academy. The venue was the Swedish design shop 15squarestreet, located on (funnily enough) 15 Square Street in the old neighbourhood of Sheung Wan. 

Despite the deluge left by Typhoon Nesat the previous day and the intermittent rain throughout the night, we had a fantastic turnout. 

The total amount raised was HKD 11,096. What an amazing result!

The event was made possible by the generous support of Alexis Holm and David Ericsson of 15squarestreet. A special thanks to Diana Wang for helping with the logistics. 

Last but not least, a huge thank you to all those that turned up to support the event. Thank you for giving generously so that a new class of 25 kids can start school at the Shine Academy next year.

Exhibit of photos taken during my time with the Shine Academy

The children of the Shine Academy appreciate your thirst.

Please feel free to return the favour! 

Our first donor, with Diana (right)

We had a great turnout, with the party spilling on to the street

Having a drink for a good cause against the Hong Kong nightscape

***

Check out the following radio interview with Catherine Whiting of Impoverished Children, where she provides a great overview of her work in Kibera and what motivates her to dedicate her life to this cause.

Catherine is one of the most resolute, dedicated, passionate and fearless people I know, and I think this comes across within the first few minutes of the interview.

From Cessnock to Slums - ABC New South Wales

"Catherine, who's originally from Cessnock, has been working in the slum for three years and says she'll be there for life."

Food for thought

Everyday at Shine Academy, right before lunch time, the kids undergo a curious transformation. It goes something like this: a bunch of rowdy, noisy, high-spirited children become quiet, docile and manageable in a flash.  

As soon as Teacher Sheila or Teacher Winnie give the command "wash your hands and line up", the kids stop playing, diligently wash their hands in a large plastic basin in the school yard, and form a line in front of the classroom door. They then file quietly into the classroom and sit down in three neat rows, usually without any pushing or jostling. They wait patiently and silently for the teachers to hand them their plate of food and a metal spoon, and then give thanks for their lunch.

Never in my life, have I seen three year olds eat with such careful precision. During the time I was there, there was never any food left uneaten on the plate. There were never any grains dropped on the floor. I never heard a child complain about the food. There were no such thing as picky eaters. 

Lunch was a solemn occasion. I later learned why. The Shine Academy provides the kids with two meals a day (breakfast and lunch) and two fruit snacks, and sometimes that was all they got to eat that day. Dinner was never guaranteed at home.

Now like with most people I know, I have never experienced what real hunger feels like. But these kids have. I don't mean the kind of hunger you feel when you skip a meal or two. I mean a powerless and hopeless kind of hunger, when you don't know when your next meal is going to be and you cannot do anything about it. When you grow up with real hunger, you learn to eat everything that's been offered to you. You learn not to waste any morsels of precious food. And you learn that by the time you are three years old. 

The lunch menu at Shine Academy rotates through the basic Kenyan staples - beans and maize stew, rice, potato with carrots and cabbage, ugali (a bit like polenta) and sukuma wiki (a local preparation of bitter greens). Twice a week the kids would get minced beef. The kids loved beef days!  And Mondays were always the toughest days. Some of the kids wouldn't have eaten at all over the weekend. They would come to school ravenous and lethargic, and their concentration really suffered. It was heart wrenching to hear the kids complain of stomach pains, and not have the energy to play because they were hungry. Fridays were also hard. School finished early at 2pm, and the kids would linger at the school gates, delaying the inevitable walk home to face two days of potentially going without food (amongst other challenges in their home environments).

But in the grand scheme of things, these kids are still the lucky ones. The Shine Academy provides its students with two nutritionally balanced meals, clean water and fruit (check this out!) every day at school. I don't think it's far fetched to say that without the school's support, some of these kids might not be alive today.

Lunch time at the Shine Academy

***

There is a famine going on in East Africa, caused by the worst drought in 60 years, and 29,000 children in the region have already perished as a result of the crisis. 

The situation in Kibera is not as severe as that in the refugee camps of Eastern Kenya. However, due to the regional food shortage, prices of staple foods in Kibera have increased threefold in the last year. This has forced already poor and malnourished children (and their parents) to live on even more meagre rations. This is the main reason why our kids are starving at night and on weekends. 

To help out, over the school holidays Catherine and Javier organized a food handout for each student's family consisting of a dozen kilograms of rice, maize and beans to alleviate some of the burden. It costs only two thousand US dollars to feed fifty families for a month in Kibera. A little money goes a long way. 

Although one can engage in a long philosophical argument about the benefits and detriments of giving food handouts, the reality of the matter is that without it, the kids and their families risk severe malnourishment. And especially for our kids, receiving a regular meal and clean water supports their strong cognitive and physical development at a very critical point in their young lives.

How you can help. 

Twinkle Twinkle

By the end of the first day, I was exhausted. After pretending to be nearly every farm animal known in existence (I did confuse them a little with braying like a donkey) and running countless laps around the school yard, I collapsed onto a rough wooden plank that served as a bench next to the school gate.

The kids soon settled in a little semi-circle around me. Two curious girls climbed on to the bench on the either side of me to run their fingers through my hair. Two cheeky boys sat at my feet and tried to untie my shoe laces. A couple of kids tried to roll back my sleeves and the cuffs of cargo pants to touch my relatively light-coloured skin. The little ones were happy to hold on to my hand (I was holding about 3 little hands in each hand at this stage) or wrap their skinny little arms around my legs. This was accompanied by a chorus of "Teacher Kun, Teacher Kun", lots of screaming, giggles and various attempts at making farm animal noises.

To be honest, as endearing as it was, it was also a little overwhelming. I felt like I was going to be smothered under a pile of kids. And I couldn't exactly just stand up and shake them off me. So I did the only thing I could think of. I started to sing. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star was the first song that came into my head.

To my amazement, the kids became utterly still and silent. They were completely mesmerized by the song's melody. I realized that it was probably the first time they've heard this song. (How could this be? I wondered at the time). The school yard was silent except for the sound of my voice.  

Now, a confession: I'm a terrible singer. I'm completely tone deaf and tend to mangle lyrics. I’m the last person you would want to go to karaoke with. But the kids didn’t mind that one bit!

I followed with a second rendition, this time at a slower pace and with hand gestures of twinkling stars and diamonds in the sky. Dozens of dirty little hands with frayed sleeves followed with dancing fingers. By the third time, some kids started to join me in singing the first line of the song. After the fifth time, they got the second line and the last line. From that day on, they requested to sing "Twinkle Twinkle" at every recess. 

The kids loved to sing. 

The little stars of the Shine Academy... like them on facebook!

My First Day

My first visit to the Shine Academy was also the first time I visited Kibera. Kibera is known as the largest slum in Nairobi and one of the largest in Africa. As we drove along Kibera Drive, the road that led into the slum, we passed by a posh shopping mall, the French Embassy residence and rows of beautiful apartment buildings. As the road turned however, the apartments came to an abrupt stop. It felt as if someone had suddenly changed the TV Channel, from a daytime soap opera to a World Vision ad. The difference in atmosphere was that jarring. The smooth asphalt of the road gave way to dirt, pebbles and potholes. We bumped past a dusty field with a few clumps of trees, littered with vendors selling vegetables. Then, before my eyes, a brown sea of ramshackle shacks spilled into a valley as far as the eye could see.

I learned on that day that the distance between affluent suburbia and desperate poverty was about 100 metres, separated by live electric fencing.

The Shine Academy was situated in an area in Kibera called Olympic. Olympic was described by Javier as “upper-class slum”, somewhat of an oxymoron, but an apt description nonetheless. I later saw other parts of Kibera in much more dire conditions. The road that led to Olympic could be accessed by car, and was lined with shops cobbled together from pieces of wood and iron sheeting. Most of the slum could only be accessed on foot, so this was a luxury. Furthermore, some shops even had electricity, and it was possible to buy a cold drink on a hot day. Unfortunately, the relative affluence of the street also made it the prime target for rioters in the slum. And when the riots did occur, which were several times a year, the only protection between the rioters smashing up shops down the road and the teachers and kids at the school was a set of nondescript gates made from flimsy corrugated iron sheeting.

The school was a modest brick building with 3 main rooms that served as classrooms. There was also a kitchen (with two large metal pots), a storage room (with a big bunch of unripened bananas from the school’s single banana tree), a lavatory and a small room that served as Catherine's office. The yard consisted of reddish-brown dirt strewn with small pebbles, and was the size of half a tennis court. 

It was only later that I realized what a spacious facility this was compared to the other schools in the slum. One high school I visited in another part of Kibera called Lindi managed to cram 400 students  in nine classrooms on two floors over an area of about a quarter-acre block (about the size of a standard suburban Melbourne allotment). The high school building was patched together by hand, using random bits of wood and iron sheeting. The floor boards had gaping holes (through which one could see the students in the classroom below) and creaked threateningly under every step. It was a marvel of DIY engineering and a potential death trap.

Catherine greeted me warmly as she opened the tall iron gates on the first day. I was particularly struck by her smiling eyes, hearty laugh and commanding presence in front of the children. It’s a funny thing about primary school teachers, the best ones always walk a fine line between being very much loved and a little bit feared by the kids (only when they've been naughty). I could tell right away that she was one of these, when the kids gave her their absolute attention as she introduced me as “Teacher Kun”.

And the kids, where do I even start? I fell in love with them from the very first recess when they proceeded to clamber over me like little monkeys. A few of the older boys and girls were eager to introduce themselves in English. Some of the younger ones were simply happy to cling onto my arms or legs. I improvised with games of Simon Says, tag, and pretended to be a kangaroo to many squeals of glee. I soon had a small mob of little kangaroos hopping behind me in a large circle around the school yard. They were the easiest children to delight and please.

I only had one problem.

Much to my dismay, all the kids looked the same to me. Yes some were a little bit taller than others, but I couldn't even tell the boys apart from the girls, for they all had their little heads shaved.

“Don’t worry, they all look the same at the beginning” Javier joked.

It took me many more days to learn all their names.

View of Kibera, from the south

The Shine Academy school building and school yard

Such beautiful kids - but how to tell them apart?

Google map of Kibera

View Larger Map

A Serendipitous Beginning

I went to Kenya with very few expectations and quite a bit of trepidation with regards to safety. My Chinese mother was convinced that I would catch some terrible disease and never return. A scan of the Australian DFAT website revealed warnings about terrorism, muggings, robberies and the list went on. It also specifically warned to stay away from slums like Kibera. Okay I thought, I can be sensible and stay away from dangerous areas of Nairobi. Not too hard right?

My friend was doing a research project in Nairobi for the summer, and I had arranged to join him for a few weeks in Kenya. It would be my first time in Africa and I was glad for the break from my demanding job in banking. I had left Hong Kong with plans to go on safari to see some game animals and spend a few days on the coast. Between those two plans, I had hazy notions of volunteering, perhaps meeting some locals and leaving with some cool souvenirs. And then something serendipitous happened. I somehow ended up in Kibera.

It was one of the best experiences of my life. For 4 weeks I volunteered at the Shine Academy, a school set up right in the middle of Kibera by a couple from Melbourne – Catherine Whiting and Javier Martinez. The school supported 50 kids and their families, picked from the most desperate backgrounds. As I later found out, the word ‘desperate’ was an understatement in many of the cases.

It was at the school that I saw with my own eyes the huge amount of positive impact that two people could make in an impoverished community and using very few resources. I witnessed the power of love and compassion to create change, and that it was infectious. I saw what courage and sacrifice looked like in action and learned that they always went hand in hand. I was inspired. I was challenged. I was humbled. I never knew I could learn so much in such a short period of time. I left with a renewed belief in the goodness of people and a profound sense of hope for the future.

I am writing this blog with the aim of recording my experiences and the lessons that I learnt along the way. It is for my own benefit really, as memories tend to become fuzzy and important details are forgotten with time.

It is also my hope that this blog will help raise awareness for the Impoverished Children Project and the Shine Academy. It is incredible work that Catherine and Javier are doing in Kibera, and it is their story, much more poignant than my own, that needs to be told.  

Catherine, Javier, me, teachers Sheila and Winnie with the kids of the Shine Academy