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The clock in the office reached 4 PM, marking the end of the CFK workday. Normally, I would pack up my things and begin walking back towards the stone buildings of Ayany. This Thursday, however, I changed into athletic clothes and waited outside the gate for my companion to arrive. Soon enough, David showed up at the office, wearing shiny dress shoes and a suit that was about three sizes too big. He is one of the coaches with CFK’s sports association, the organization’s longest-running initiative, and he was taking me to see firsthand how the program is run.

Kibera is a breeding ground for tribal conflict, with many different groups living in close proximity to one another. The most infamous intertribal conflict is that between the Kikuyu and Luo tribes, which reached a breaking point following the 2008 Kenyan elections. For weeks, Kibera was swept up in post-election riots and violence, killing many and ousting even more people from their homes.

In an effort to combat the tribalism that plagues Kibera, the CFK sports program runs an annual soccer tournament in which every team must consist of members from different tribes. Furthermore, instead of paying a registration fee, each team must participate in a community clean-up with the Taka ni Pato program in order to be eligible. This further helps build community pride and a sense of intercultural understanding, with members of different tribes working towards a common goal. A few years ago, another addition was made to the Sports Program. A CFK intern from the States was a champion jump-roper, and wanted to implement a skipping program within Kibera. As a slum activity, it made sense: it didn’t require much equipment or much space, and was fairly easy to learn. So CFK started the CFK Sprinters program, which was an instant success.

We were a little early for practice, so David took me on a quick detour around Gatwakera. He greeted friends and relatives along the way, exchanging firm handshakes and warm smiles. Soon we reached a little fruit stand where a middle-aged woman with a kanga draped over her shoulders was selling mangos and bananas. David introduced the woman as his mother. She welcomed me to Kibera, and invited me to come visit their home, motioning towards a little gate to her right. David led me through the gate and into a small courtyard, then beneath a small doorway. “Welcome to my home,” he said with a smile.

The home had a higher ceiling than I was accustomed to seeing in Kibera, but was otherwise a pretty standard slum dwelling: about ten by ten feet, made out of mud and corrugated iron, with large pieces of lace and other fabrics draped around to cover up the walls beneath. I met his little sister, who had just arrived home from school. I also met some other inhabitants of the home: David’s chickens, which lived in a coop right outside of the front door. He explained to me that he raises rabbits and chickens as a small business, selling them to local people in the community. “The pigeons I just keep for fun,” he said.

Soon it was time to head over the Kibera Primary School for practice. We swam upstream through the school’s mass exodus of students, all dressed in forest-green uniforms and heading home for the day. The sounds of soccer balls being kicked around and coaches yelling in Swahili floated over towards us. As we rounded the corner, a dusty school field emerged, with dozens of young men running drills and maneuvering soccer balls around orange pylons. On the other side of the field, a group of younger kids were grabbing jump ropes, getting ready to start their own training session. Feeling more comfortable with my ability to jump rope than to kick a ball with accuracy, I headed over to join the skippers.

It quickly became clear that either the children of Kibera are incredibly fit or I am just ridiculously unfit – or maybe it was a combination of both. As the practice began, I found I could barely jump for thirty seconds without my heartbeat ringing in my ears. Meanwhile, most of the kids performed the various tricks with ease, jumping from side to side, alternating legs, skipping backwards, and crossing their arms while barely breaking a sweat. While it was a little embarrassing to be out-jumped by nine year olds, the practice was a ton of fun and I was happy to see firsthand what the sports program does for the community.

This after-school practice was just another example of how the people of Kibera will jump (literally) at any opportunity that is given to them. By providing children with a physical outlet, the sports program has kept many young people from joining gangs or engaging in other counter-productive activities. It has also instilled a sense of hope and ambition in the children, showing them that if they work hard, opportunities will open up for them. Some of the CFK soccer players have gone on to play at the national level, and the jump rope team has competed in and won several competitions in far-flung places like Florida and Brazil. This goes against the conventional idea of slums as sad, depressing places with a pitiable population. To quote a wonderful article in the Economist: “Slums are far from hopeless places…but rather reservoirs of tomorrow’s winners.” And the kids I met at Kibera Primary, along with David with his chickens, are definitely tomorrow’s winners.

The clock in the office reached 4 PM, marking the end of the CFK workday. Normally, I would pack up my things and begin walking back towards the stone buildings of Ayany. This Thursday, however, I changed into athletic clothes and waited outside the gate for my companion to arrive. Soon enough, David showed up at the office, wearing shiny dress shoes and a suit that was about three sizes too big. He is one of the coaches with CFK’s sports association, the organization’s longest-running initiative, and he was taking me to see firsthand how the program is run.

Kibera is a breeding ground for tribal conflict, with many different groups living in close proximity to one another. The most infamous intertribal conflict is that between the Kikuyu and Luo tribes, which reached a breaking point following the 2008 Kenyan elections. For weeks, Kibera was swept up in post-election riots and violence, killing many and ousting even more people from their homes.

In an effort to combat the tribalism that plagues Kibera, the CFK sports program runs an annual soccer tournament in which every team must consist of members from different tribes. Furthermore, instead of paying a registration fee, each team must participate in a community clean-up with the Taka ni Pato program in order to be eligible. This further helps build community pride and a sense of intercultural understanding, with members of different tribes working towards a common goal. A few years ago, another addition was made to the Sports Program. A CFK intern from the States was a champion jump-roper, and wanted to implement a skipping program within Kibera. As a slum activity, it made sense: it didn’t require much equipment or much space, and was fairly easy to learn. So CFK started the CFK Sprinters program, which was an instant success.

We were a little early for practice, so David took me on a quick detour around Gatwakera. He greeted friends and relatives along the way, exchanging firm handshakes and warm smiles. Soon we reached a little fruit stand where a middle-aged woman with a kanga draped over her shoulders was selling mangos and bananas. David introduced the woman as his mother. She welcomed me to Kibera, and invited me to come visit their home, motioning towards a little gate to her right. David led me through the gate and into a small courtyard, then beneath a small doorway. “Welcome to my home,” he said with a smile.

The home had a higher ceiling than I was accustomed to seeing in Kibera, but was otherwise a pretty standard slum dwelling: about ten by ten feet, made out of mud and corrugated iron, with large pieces of lace and other fabrics draped around to cover up the walls beneath. I met his little sister, who had just arrived home from school. I also met some other inhabitants of the home: David’s chickens, which lived in a coop right outside of the front door. He explained to me that he raises rabbits and chickens as a small business, selling them to local people in the community. “The pigeons I just keep for fun,” he said.

Soon it was time to head over the Kibera Primary School for practice. We swam upstream through the school’s mass exodus of students, all dressed in forest-green uniforms and heading home for the day. The sounds of soccer balls being kicked around and coaches yelling in Swahili floated over towards us. As we rounded the corner, a dusty school field emerged, with dozens of young men running drills and maneuvering soccer balls around orange pylons. On the other side of the field, a group of younger kids were grabbing jump ropes, getting ready to start their own training session. Feeling more comfortable with my ability to jump rope than to kick a ball with accuracy, I headed over to join the skippers.

It quickly became clear that either the children of Kibera are incredibly fit or I am just ridiculously unfit – or maybe it was a combination of both. As the practice began, I found I could barely jump for thirty seconds without my heartbeat ringing in my ears. Meanwhile, most of the kids performed the various tricks with ease, jumping from side to side, alternating legs, skipping backwards, and crossing their arms while barely breaking a sweat. While it was a little embarrassing to be out-jumped by nine year olds, the practice was a ton of fun and I was happy to see firsthand what the sports program does for the community.

This after-school practice was just another example of how the people of Kibera will jump (literally) at any opportunity that is given to them. By providing children with a physical outlet, the sports program has kept many young people from joining gangs or engaging in other counter-productive activities. It has also instilled a sense of hope and ambition in the children, showing them that if they work hard, opportunities will open up for them. Some of the CFK soccer players have gone on to play at the national level, and the jump rope team has competed in and won several competitions in far-flung places like Florida and Brazil. This goes against the conventional idea of slums as sad, depressing places with a pitiable population. To quote a wonderful article in the Economist: “Slums are far from hopeless places…but rather reservoirs of tomorrow’s winners.” And the kids I met at Kibera Primary, along with David with his chickens, are definitely tomorrow’s winners.

“You white people, do you have these problems in your country?”

A 23-year old woman was lying down on the examination table, legs splayed with a pillow propped under her bottom to help with visualization. Adah, one of the Tabitha Clinic nurses and my teacher for the day, was sitting on a chair between the woman’s legs, a Black Diamond headlamp mounted on her head as she examined the patient’s cervix.

This woman was asking about cervical cancer, for which she was presently being treated. Cervical cancer is a large problem in developing countries that unfortunately doesn’t get much attention, due to the public’s general aversion to talking about lady bits. It is the third most common female cancer in the world, with over 90% of cases reported in developing nations. Kenya has an alarmingly high incidence rate of 22% in females age 15-40, but many cases go undiagnosed, or aren’t discovered until the cancer has metastasized.

“Oh yeah, we’re at risk for cervical cancer, too,” I said, explaining the Canadian government’s HPV vaccination program and the controversy surrounding it. “All bodies are the same on the inside, they can all get sick with the same things.”

Adah nodded in agreement, the light on her headlamp momentarily bouncing around the room. “It’s only the colour that’s different.”

The cervical cancer screening process is astonishingly simple and low-tech, taking only a few minutes for the women to receive their results. First, a cotton swab covered in acetic acid (yes, just your typical grocery store variety vinegar) is wiped on the cervix, which makes abnormalities turn white. Then, iodine delineates the borders of the lesion, making it stand out in yellow against the otherwise brown solution. The clinician can then say with certainty whether pre-cancerous lesions are present, giving the results in less than 10 minutes.

If there are no signs of lesions, the woman is instructed to come back in three to five years for another screening – unless, as I found out later, you are HIV-positive. Women infected with the HIV virus are immunocompromised, and as a result have a reduced capacity to fight off an HPV infection. Cancer can develop rapidly in these women, necessitating more frequent screening.

If the hallmarks of cervical cancer are found, the woman undergoes cryotherapy. In this procedure, an extremely cold, highly pressurized gas is applied to the lesion, effectively freezing all the abnormal cells to death and leaving a mark on the otherwise pink cervix that looks like a large cigarette burn. Within six months, this mark is completely gone, and the cervix is as good as new.

Of the ten women who came in for screening that morning, more than half of them showed precancerous lesions. Others had some other sort of infection, including a particularly brutal yeast infection that covered the entire cervix in a white goop. Despite this being a relatively small sample size, I was astonished at the prevalence of cervical cancer in the Kibera community. It just wasn’t an issue that I had thought much about before coming to Kenya. HIV and malaria, yes. Cancer, not so much.

This goes to show that when thinking about health issues in the developing world, cancer and similar chronic illnesses are often neglected. Infectious diseases, most recently ebola, often take centre stage in the media, dominating the western world’s view of health in developing nations. However, there are many chronic illnesses lying beneath the surface, some of which can be equally deadly. Cervical cancer is one of the most treatable cancers in existence, but due to a lack of services and education, many women often do not receive the help that they need, and even when they do it is often too late. It is important to recognize that cancer and similar illnesses are not unique to the developed world – after all, bodies are all the same on the inside.

The midday sun was sweltering as Cathrine and I neared the end of our hour-long journey – we had walked from the Carolina for Kibera office to Lindi, one of the more distant villages of Kibera.  Lindi looked like most of the other villages I had visited, save for the impressive paved road that was being upgraded by the Kenyan government. Up ahead, a slim, short woman appeared, her wavy black hair pulled back into a ponytail and a white smock covering her front. This was Joyce, a twenty-something hairdresser, a Lindi resident, and the reason for our visit today.

Joyce is the cervical cancer champion of Lindi. Over a year ago, she went for screening at the Tabitha Clinic and discovered that she had precancerous lesions on her cervix. Luckily, they were caught early, and she received treatment that greatly reduced her risk of cancer. However, she became concerned about how many other women might have these lesions without even knowing it, and began passionately advocating cervical cancer screening to her salon’s clients. Each week, she leads a group of women across Kibera to the clinic, spearheading the reduction in cancer prevalence in her village.

We had come to Joyce’s salon to try and convince her to become a Community Health Worker (CHW) with CFK. The organization is currently working on an expansion, which will allow the current programs to reach several other villages in Kibera, including Lindi. For this expansion to proceed, passionate and respected community members must be recruited to be a part of the process. Joyce, with her concern for the health of fellow women in her community, would make the perfect choice. For a little over an hour, Cathrine discusses the role with Joyce, making sure to answer all of her questions and allay any of her concerns. They also discuss a myriad of other topics, including various new hairstyles and Joyce’s children. Joyce even ends up doing Cathrine’s nails for an upcoming wedding.

This slow-and-steady approach to business was one of the things that I found most frustrating when I first arrived in Kenya. I am so used to having every moment of the day scheduled, and to trying to maximize the efficiency of every meeting. This, however, is just not how things work in East Africa. Time is less of an issue here, and often takes a backseat to interpersonal connections. Extra care is spent ensuring that a rapport is built, that the other person understands what is being asked of them, and that all of their concerns are addressed. Building a relationship is the most important part of any business transaction, and if you end up being a little late to your next commitment in the process, so be it.

Right before we left the salon, Joyce had agreed to become a Community Health Worker. She walked us out of her tiny workplace into the bright sun, and gave us both a warm handshake before we headed out. As we began the long stroll, I contemplated whether the same outcome would have been achieved had the conversation taken place over the phone. Somehow, I doubted it. It had taken some effort, but I was starting to understand the Kenyans’ way of doing things.

Recently, whenever someone has asked me what my plans are for this upcoming semester, I have struggled to come up with an adequate answer. I usually say something along the lines of: I’m going to Nairobi, Kenya, through UBC’s International Service Learning program. I’m undertaking an internship with a local NGO to implement malnutrition interventions in an urban slum. But I don’t feel like that quite captures exactly what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it. So in an attempt to clear things up, here are a few things that I am not doing this semester.

I am not travelling to “Africa”. I am going to Kenya. I make a point never tell people that I am going to Africa, since that ignores the huge diversity of the 54 countries that make up the continent. In my mind, to say that I am going to “Africa” reinforces the stereotypic portrayals of the continent by the Western media, which a homogeneous place filled with empoverished, disease-ridden, sad, hopeless people waiting around for someone to come help them. And I’m not okay with that. 

I am not going to get Ebola. Dozens of people have told me to be careful not to get Ebola during my trip, including a family doctor. All of these people have clearly never studied a map in much detail, since if they had, they would know that Paris is closer to Sierra Leone and Liberia than Nairobi. Incidentally, I’m also passing through Paris on my way to Kenya, but nobody is warning me about the dangers of Ebola there.

I am not going to “save Africa”. History is filled with stories of Westerners deciding to introduce indigenous people, and, later, people in developing countries to the “right” way of life. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t work, usually because even though their hearts may (sometimes) be in the right place, foreigners have no idea what the local people actually need. That’s why the organization I am working with is so great. While it is funded through an American university, all of their employees working on the ground in Kibera are Kenyan. Many of them grew up in the community, and as a result, they know what needs to be done in order to help get people in the slum out of poverty. They are the folks who are in charge, who are making the plans and developing the vision. I am there to put my background in science and nutrition to good use, to write up reports and make spreadsheets, and basically do whatever they tell me they need in order to reach their goals. I’m not “saving” anyone.

I am not a voluntourist. For the past few years, I have struggled with my interest in development and global health and my burgeoning understanding of social justice. While in high school, I had looked into going on some short-term volunteer trips, but never actually ended up going through with it. The part-charity, part-vacation trips didn’t quite sit right with me, and when I came upon the term “voluntourism” I figured out why. But when I read about International Service Learning, I realized that it wasn’t just another volunteer trip. UBC framed it as a learning experience, built upon a foundation of ethical engagement and social justice. Once I entered the program, the other students and I had extensive training to ensure that we were adequately prepared. We learned about the history of development, and had long, difficult discussions about power and privilege. We researched Kenya and Kibera extensively, writing papers analyzing the current situation and how it came to be. We spoke with Western and African development workers about the merits and challenges of engaging in this type of work. We are not going to build a school that the community doesn’t even need, while lacking the proper skills to even lay bricks down properly. This is a learning experience, a cultural immersion program, and an internship, all wrapped up into one.

I am not doing this as a resume-booster. Nor am I going to get a sweet new profile picture with my arms around little African children. This is a learning experience for me, one that I could never imagine receiving in a classroom in Vancouver. I want to shrug off the stereotypes of “Africa” shown to me by the media. I want to be immersed in a culture different from my own. I want to see how development work is done in cooperation with the community. That being said, I’m not participating in the program for completely selfish reasons, either. I’m still hoping to do something helpful for the community. But I know that I am not the one to decide what that something will be.

Around this time last year, I made a pretty huge decision: I was going to stay in Vancouver for the summer.

If I visit Kits Beach and don’t Instagram, did it really happen? 

This decision was partially influenced by my experience the previous summer back home. The summer after my first year at UBC, like most first year students, I headed back to my home in Ontario. While it was nice to enjoy all the comforts of home, it was hardly the summer of my dreams. I was working in a lab in downtown Toronto, and commuted an hour and a half to work every day from my home in the suburbs. I would go to work from 9 to 5, then head home where I would usually just head to the gym, eat dinner, maybe watch a TV show, and go to bed.

On the weekends, I often went out with my friends from high school or other summer students in the lab. It was nice to see my friends from high school, but I felt like I was missing out on all the amazing things happening in Vancouver. I found myself missing the mountains, the ocean, and the Vancouver lifestyle. I also hated the humidity and sweltering temperatures of the city.

So the next year, around winter break, I decided to remain in Vancouver for the summer. It ended up being a great decision, and I had

Step 1: Find yo’ crib.

There are a few housing options for you during the summer. First, you need to decide if you want to live on campus or off campus.

If you are looking to live on campus, you have a couple of options. The first is summer housing in Fairview Crescent. You can apply for summer staythrough if you are currently a resident in a UBC SHHS winter session residence (Totem Park, Place Vanier, Walter Gage, Rits, MD 5). The application opens closer to the end of second term. If you would like to live in residence in the fall as well, it might be a good idea to look into year-round housing. It is usually easier to get these residences than the winter session housing. The year-round residences at UBC are Marine Drive, Fraser Hall, Thunderbird, and Ponderosa Commons.

If you are looking to live off campus during the summer, a lot of students choose to sublet their apartments for four months while they return home. The most common neighbourhoods are Kitsilano, Dunbar, and Point Grey. Keep your eyes open for sublet postings on Kijiji, AMS RentsLine, and Craigslist starting around March.

Summer digs at Fraser Hall. Bonsai not included.

I ended up getting year-round housing in Fraser Hall over the summer, although looking back I wish I had gotten a place off-campus. Vancouver in the summer is absolutely amazing, and I personally did not enjoy living with 5 other roommates. The decision is up to you, though!

Step 2: Get a Job

This isn’t completely necessary if you grow money trees in your backyard or are a hotel heiress, but generally to pay for your accommodation over the summer, you are going to need some form of employment.

Start doing your research early – over the winter break, if possible – since a lot of labs, camps, and other common summer employers make their decisions very early on. If you are planning on doing part-time studies over the summer, a really great option for jobs is the UBC Work Study Work Learn program. I had a Work Learn job over the summer at the Child and Family Research Institute at BC Children’s Hospital, working in a UBC Medical Genetics lab. Granted, the job was mostly washing glassware and restocking pipettes, but I showed initiative and got to work on an additional project. These jobs come out around April on the Careers website.

Step 3: Make some friends

Vancouver has a ton of fun things to do in the summer, but you’ll get really lonely really fast if you don’t find some people to do them with. Things can be a little quieter around campus during the summer, and you can end up spending a lot more time alone than you’re used to. Be proactive – be  sure to find out who’s going to be around for the summer so you know to call them when you want to go out!

One thing that was really useful was The Calendar’s “In Vancouver for the Summer” Facebook group – they organized a bunch of UBC club nights and concerts around the city throughout the summer so there was always something to do on the weekends.

Step 4: Go exploring!

One thing that I loved about being in Vancouver for the summer was the opportunity to explore. Since I didn’t have school taking up all of my time, I had a little bit more time to do the more time-consuming things I couldn’t during the year. Among the highlights were:

• Hiking the Eagle Bluffs at Cypress Mountain and gorgeous trails in the Washington Rockies
• Road tripping to Sasquatch Music Festival in Washington
• Taking the ferry to Vancouver Island for the first time to visit Victoria
• Staying in a vintage trailer in Portland, Oregon

Mountaintop lake at Cypress Mountain

In my happy place at The Gorge Ampitheatre

Portland: the land of no tax, Voodoo Doughnuts, and homemade pinwheels.

If you love the outdoors and are looking for a group of people to join you on adventures, I suggest joining the Varsity Outdoor Club (VOC). They organize trips almost every week during the summer to some really cool places!

So that’s my guide to staying in Vancouver for the summer. Minor hardships aside, I had a really amazing 4 months here and was really happy with my decision to stay. Hopefully this helps you make up your mind!

I have a confession to make: last year was an incredibly rough year for me. In fact, the main reason that I didn’t do much blogging was because any blog post I would have authored threatened to be riddled with stress and negativity.

The year definitely had some high points: winning with my floor at Day of the Longboat, handing out awards plaques at the 2013 SLC, running my first triathlon, having dance parties in fellow advisors’ rooms, and going on a Seattle trip with my first boyfriend ever. But these wonderful moments were fleeting, and were overshadowed by the copious stressful moments in between.

Throughout the entire year, I was feeling unsatisfied and unfulfilled. I felt incapable within my multiple new leadership roles, and did not know how to manage my involvements effectively. I had conflicts with my coworkers due to my high stress levels. I was burnt out, exhausted, sleep-deprived, and sick almost every other week. I found myself frantically cramming before every midterm and final exam since I hadn’t made time to study. Life felt like a never-ending to-do list – in the time it took to cross off one item, another three had sprung up in its place.

After a lot of self-reflection over the summer, I realized that the reason I had been so stressed out this past year was because I was trying to make myself into someone I’m not. I was doing things because I thought that I should do them, and ignoring what I really wanted. I was pushing back tasks, waiting until they absolutely demanded my attention. I was neglecting my self-care, putting myself last in my priorities list. I was making myself unhappy.

So, this summer, I decided to make myself happy again. I bought a ukulele. I read books for fun.  I started writing again. I had two jobs that I absolutely loved. I had life-changing volunteer experiences. I smiled and laughed as much as I could. I said yes to the things I wanted to do and said no to the things that I didn’t. And some days, I sat around and did nothing, without feeling guilty about it.

Now, with another school year peeking around the corner, I’ve never felt more prepared for a new beginning.

My point is, university will not always be sunshine and rainbows (despite what my blog may sometimes suggest). There will be times when you cry alone in your room. There will be times when you feel like you have no idea what you are doing or where you are going. There will be times when you will feel like a failure. There will be times when you feel as though you have gotten so far off-track that you will never get back on the right path again. There will be times when you are unhappy. But always remember to pick yourself up and keep on going, because your new beginning could be just around the corner.

Welcome to UBC, Class of 2017. You’re in for quite a ride.