Kenya

Last year, students from Pirrar Secondary School for Girls in the Transmara District recited this poem for me among many other "dramas" and performances. These girls, whose parents pay high prices for their secondary education (i.e., equivalent to high school) sleep in the room next to the classroom. Their outpouring of enthusiasm for education in the midst of having nothing that we privileged Westerners have (like electricity, clean water, toilets, sealed windows, adequate textbooks, air conditioning) was enough to bring me to tears. They marveled not only at my camera, but also at the scent of my moisturizer, the spiral-binding of my notebook, the color of my US dollar bill, the texture of my chap stick.