Lost in translation

Despite the open and welcome community, all of the work that the EAC has done here, the patience the folks here have for the mzungos (white people), and the goodwill of the Vutakaka Center, there remains a huge gap between the cultures of the European/American volunteers and the people who live here in the village.

Tricia told us a story about a time that she had to fill in for a teacher at the after-school tutoring program. She got to the room and discovered that she had tons of kids, but no lesson plan, no chalk, and no idea what she would do.  Thinking fast, she grabbed a hand puppet and brought it up next to her face, saying in a squeaky voice: "JAAAAAMBO!"

The children went out of their minds.  Imagine, in a place with no television, no puppets, no stuffed animals of any kind, kids confronted with a furry thing on the end of a mzungo's hand must have thought she had been eaten. Or possessed.  They began screaming, pulling their hair, and running from the classroom as fast as their little legs could carry them.  One boy ran all the way home and didn't return. Other children were shaking and crying and just distraught.

Another story, a little more pertinant to my line of work, is about the adult health class.  They met one day to talk about safe sex and condoms. To demonstrate proper condom use, the instructor brought the handle of a shovel to class.  She held up the condom, showed how to check the expiration date and unwrap it, and then unrolled it down the length of the handle.  The class understood, all seemed to be well.  This being Takaungu, people talk and before long the talk filtered back to Vutakaka.  The women who had attended the class were in fact using condoms as they were taught.  They had gone home and removed the handle to a rake or shovel. The next time they had sex, the women used proper technique to put the condom on the handle, which they kept next to the bed during intercourse.