Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones…Kenya Week 5: November 1-November 7

I remember being a little girl and crying to my mother after being teased by my sisters or neighborhood friend. Attempting to comfort me, she taught me the age old adage, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me”. After five weeks in Kenya, I’m sad to say that for once, my mother was wrong. Turns out that “Sticks and stones (and motor bikes and machetes and alcohol and all sorts of dangerous objects) can break your bones, but words can actually kill you”.

Being from a country where everyone speaks the same language and little patience is awarded those who don’t, the language barrier faced by Kenyans within their own country seems particularly debilitating. The cycle of poverty and illiteracy perpetuates itself as young girls drop out of school because they can’t pay their fees and suddenly find themselves married with 4 children.

I’ve seen it over and over. Kenyans grow up speaking their Mother tongue, be it Duluo, Kisii, Kimeru, Kiswahili, or any of the 42 tribal languages in Kenya. Children only learn English (the Official Language of Kenya) and Kiswahili (the National Language of Kenya) in school. That is, if they go to school: with a national average High School enrollment of only 25% in the best regions, very few Kenyans actually speak English or Kiswahili. When almost all official documents, reports, etc. are written in English, working as anything other than a substance farmer or fisherman becomes nearly impossible. People are limited to working and living among their own tribe which limits their ability to trade goods, travel, or improve their quality of life.

Accessing quality medical care falls into the exact same category. The Maternal and Child Health Clinic’s walls are plastered with colorful and informational posters on everything from protecting your child from Malaria, to knowing your HIV status, to proper nutrition for infants. Unfortunately all the posters are in English or Kiswahili which means few of our clients can actually read them. The handy little Immunization Cards and Tuberculosis Medication Charts given to each client serve as little more than reminders of when to return to the clinic. At least the clients understand the dates written in the “To Come Again” column.

As I learn the Duluo language Mus Mus (slowly by slowly), I am again reminded of the difficulties and depth of a language barrier. As a mzungu (a white foreigner), I at least given the benefit of the doubt and endless patience as I attempt to communicate. But for those Kenyans who were not fortunate to learn English or Kiswahili (like my beloved Jiggers Family), I simply pray for their safety and comfort. In a world where knowledge is power and the pen is mightier than the sword, the beautiful Luo Tribe on the shores of Lake Victoria fight everyday to improve their lot. What a blessing to be a small part of their battle.