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My blog (www.annosafrica.org.uk) from teaching in Kenya in 2010:

I had been anticipating the arrival of 2010 for some time. Not only would it be the year of my graduation from university, but it would also be the year that I'd finally get to fly out to Nairobi as part of the ANNO'S AFRICA team. As a close friend of Ned's (Anno's younger brother), I had known Anno since I was 5 or 6 years old. I, like many others was devastated to hear the news of that fateful crash that took Anno, Lee and Alberto from us, and so 9 years later jumped at the chance to join the team and do my part in their honour. 

We arrived at Kenyatta International airport on Sunday the 10th of October at 8:00 am and were warmly greeted with the words “mambo bwana!” (hello mister) by our taxi driver, David. We stuffed the car with bags of materials, guitars and ourselves, and headed to the camp-site that would become our home for the next two months. The things I saw on the way were not exactly what I had been expecting; large busy highways, expensive cars, huge retail outlets and even high-rise buildings. I later learned that this was all part of Nairobi's multi-faceted society; the rich and the poor living very close to each other while (ironically) the financial gap between them is unbelievably massive. A Kenyan once told me quite poignantly that "in Nairobi, you either have it or you don't".

The camp-site was very comfortable. My tent had a bed and a small table with a lamp. There were toilets and plenty of cold showers, and even a kitchen that served hot food and cold beer. We had everything we needed and were quick to familiarise ourselves with the local rum; Kenya Cane. I remember not knowing what to feel amidst the barrage of emotions I was subject too on this first day, though one thought prevailed; “I am finally here!”

I'll never forget that first journey to school. The other mzungu (white stranger) trainers and I piled into our minibus matatu (main form of public transport) and headed East. As we left the wealthier part of town and said goodbye to the towering gates, askari's (guards) and banana trees, we navigated around the developed business district with its theatres, bars and fast cars and continued on passed Moi avenue; a road that cuts through the city centre like an artery. Our destination Mathare, is one of Nairobi's most dangerous slums and is home to Valley View Academy; a school which ANNO'S AFRICA has worked with for three years now. The journey was in a word; wild. Driving in Nairobi is like one big game of Chicken, but with tens of thousands of chickens, that is; brave chickens! With a distinct lack of regulation by the police, cars are often seen driving on pavements or on the wrong side of the road. Over-filled matatu's are always driving off-road in a vain attempt to avoid traffic. Far too often they end up on their sides in some ditch or an open sewer. As we travelled through Mathare, I saw for the first time what a slum was like. Just a few feet from the matatu window, the roads were paralleled by open sewers over which Robinson Crusoe style bridges had been built. On the other side of these bridges would be a seemingly endless sea of brightly coloured corrugated-iron shacks, selling everything from haircuts and imported western-style clothing to furniture and iron gates. The streets were often lined with piles of rubbish that during rain would spill over into the open sewers, causing blockages that were only ever cleared by local residents (though I have always tried to be mindful of my privileged life as a Westerner, I didn't even realise that I took basic services like refuse collection or Council maintenance teams for granted).

As soon as we arrived at the school, we were surrounded by a mass of curious children. "Why are your veins blue?" one observant child asked me, looking through my white skin. "Why are your eyes blue?" asked another while his friends stared, mesmerised at the bright colours on the guitar I have tattooed on my forearm. Music's classroom wasn't in the school building; we were given use of a church in the slum, or ghetto as it is locally known. The room itself was quite big at about 7 x 14 meters, and was made of sticks, mud and corrugated iron. The windows lacked the panes of glass required to truly qualify them as such, and were used more as benches by the local children whose curiosity drove them to redefine these windows functions. The floor was full of potholes and the real benches fell apart as kids sat on them. The room had incredible character and with its black-board, proved to be a wonderful teaching space.

Needless to say I was nervous to be in a position of responsibility in this world, so far removed from my own. At this point I spoke very little Kiswahili and was rather ignorant to the cultures customs and conventions. Working alongside the Kenyan trainers really alleviated these pressures and I am forever grateful to them for their support. The children themselves were amazing. In the 6 weeks we had with them (only two lessons a week), they learnt to read and write rhythms using standard notation, built instruments, formed a samba band and wrote music for it, learnt to sing independent harmonies and wrote a song. In amongst all this we discussed world musics, instrumentation, song form and expression & meaning in lyrics. They even worked out their own dance routine for the final performance. I think their work over these 6 weeks stood as a testament to those words I had heard spoken by so many people who have taught in Kenya; "these kids are the most talented kids I've ever known".

We did face the odd problem. When it rained for example, sewers would over-flow and our classroom would flood; not exactly the ideal environment to facilitate anybody's learning. Sometimes we couldn't use our classroom for bureaucratic reasons, which would leave us with a choice between a garage car park, or the school porch. When we did use our classroom, we had to deal with old drunks who would either ambush us on the way to class, or would be found slumped over, sleeping in the doorway. One brazen fellow even burst into the classroom and stumbling, he offered his slurred definition of what percussion instruments are. I was most taken aback though, by the attitude of some of the older generations towards the children. They would hang in through the window-benches and steal the juice and biscuits that we provided for our kids, straight from their hands. When confronted, they would simply ask "why don't you give to me?". Unfortunately the harsh reality is that we can't help everyone. We do what we can, and ANNO'S AFRICA is about providing creative arts education for these children, not feeding the hungry. I couldn't believe how difficult it was for these kids. Not only do they live in such desperate conditions, having to cope with serious poverty, crime and disease, but they are also beaten down by the adults of their society, in every sense of the word. Regardless, they would turn up to every lesson full of enthusiasm and gratitude, and gave it their all. It was so inspiring to see such resilience in these children, some as young as 7.

I always knew that ANNO'S AFRICA was doing good work in Kenya, but it didn't really sink in just how good until I was actually there taking part. When you see the joy in the children's faces when they learn something from you that could ultimately make a real difference to their futures, the feeling of satisfaction is second to none. It is a real wonder that something as genuinely positive as the ANNO'S AFRICA program has come from something as tragic as the loss of three young men, friends and musicians. I truly am honoured to be a part of it.

The following words were written entirely by the music students at Valley View Academy.

Ujasiri

Intro

There’s a future, It’s our future but what will it hold?

Verse 1

In Mathare there is hunger
Sometimes even no water
The orphans are facing labour
They have no parents to take care of them
There is war in our community
Yes, and even in our homes
The corruption and the tribalism
Brings poverty and no care


Chorus

I will succeed if only I believe
Peace is a wonderful thing
This truly must be seen
Sasa sisi ni wajasiri (now we are brave)


Rap – solo

The pain will go, the wounds will heal, it’s not a dream, it’s very real.
I know we will overcome
What is done is done
So, let it be
From the smallest we can grow the biggest tree
And the ones to make that change are you and me
What your eyes want to see:
Images of love, sharing, caring for everyone
Let’s play, let’s grow, let’s pray
Let’s play, let’s grow, let’s play, let’s grow, let’s pray


(Chorus)

Rap – whole group

Through education we will build our lives
Only together can we reach our goals
We should love to love each other
Where there is anger we should help one another to succeed

(Chorus x 2)