A day in the life of… the Public Health Program Coordinator (that’s me!)

Many readers have asked me what a typical “work day” is like for me here in Kenya, so I’ve put together an example of one. Admittedly, the following is a hybrid of “typical” things I work on at work, as my tasks vary from day to day. I prefer having a job where every day is a new challenge, because falling into a monotonous routine would quickly become tedious and boring. Instead, here is just one example of what I get to engage in each day:

I leave my host family’s home at 8:30am (after being woken up by a rooster around 6:30am, in time for my morning run and shower), say muuga (“hello” in Kimeru) to the security guard as I exit the security gate of Chogoria Girls Secondary Boarding School (our house is on-campus, as I live with the Deputy Principle who works long hours at the school next door). As I walk the approximately one block distance to my office, I have “regulars” I greet every day on my way to work; Kenyan culture pretty much requires you to pause and shake hands with anyone who greets you on the street. This took some getting used to, as most Americans just ignore each other as you pass on the street or nod your head in recognition that they are passing you; luckily I am the type of person who would wave and say “Hi” to just about every single person who crosses my path, so the only adjustment for me was the handshake.  I manage to only stop a few times on my way, but EVERY single person along the street stares at me unabashedly, so I get a little self-conscious. I make an effort to give everyone (especially the children) a kind smile and continue walking at a quick pace to my destination. Regardless of my efforts, this 5 min walk takes me 15 mins each morning. When I finally get to work, I then have to officially greet each staff member, with the formal handshake with each individual, of course.

I prepare for one of my weekly meetings, which are scheduled to begin at 9:15, but people don’t usually show up for until 9:45, as everyone runs on "Kenyan time” (which implies being a MINIMUM of 15mins late). On Mondays, I attend the Department Heads Meeting in the office of the founder and CEO of HopeCore (we all call him “KK”), along with the Financial Manager (Wafula) and Micro-Enterprise Program Coordinator (Sam). We go over each of our schedules with our Weekly Reports on the previous week and Weekly Action Plans for the coming week. This meeting is really informative, but always seems to end “on Kenyan time” too, so when it let’s out at around 10:45am, I hurry to get the entire Public Health Team to finish their morning tea, pack up their gear, load the jeep, go to the bathroom (there are no flush toilets at the schools), and try to leave by 11am (even though we are supposed to leave by 10:30 each time we have a mobile clinic scheduled- which is 3 days a week). I have now worked for HopeCore for a month and we have not left on time once.

The 30 min jeep ride feels just like being on that Indiana Jones ride at Disney Land, with so many potholes and steep inclines that you have to hold on to something with each hand. Boy am I glad I don’t get motion sickness! We actually have a fantastic driver, Micheni, who accomplishes incredible feats with our old hunk-of-metal jeep each day and manages to keep us all from falling out of the doors (some of which don’t close all the way). The team is very positive and there is always laughter in that jeep, which makes the stress of getting us all in the jeep melt away.

When we arrive at the school (which always has a cool name like Gianchuku or Mbogori), the team waits in the car while I go greet the Head Teacher (that’s what they call the Principle of an elementary school) with the formal handshake AND by signing their school guest book, which they get incredibly excited about (probably because very few people can make it up the steep overgrown pot-hole ridden paths just to get to the school). The Head Teacher then introduces me one-by-one to his (or her) entire staff, class by class, and then I get to introduce my team to them. Only then, can I request 2 classrooms for us to use.

Public Health Mobile Clinic TEAM!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 (L to R: Lennah, Jeff, Winjoy, Morris, me, Harriet, Charity, Jeddy, Micheni)

We use one room to provide clinical services to all children and teachers suffering from illness, calling them in class by class. The most common ailments include: intestinal worms, ringworm (on their foreheads), Malaria, Typhoid, Gastro-intestinal issues (diarrhea caused from drinking unclean water), and stomachaches.

We use the second room for health education using a PowerPoint presentation from our laptop and projector, charged by a generator we run an extension cord to. Lennah (whose job title keeps changing between “Assistant Health Program Coordinator” and “Health Educator”) does the presentation for the lower primary classes (nursery and classes 1-3) in Kimeru (because they have only just started learning Kiswahili and/or English), and then one of our 3 Peer Educators (who are nursing students looking for work experience) presents for upper primary (classes 4-8). I must say I am very proud of what powerful and engaging speakers they are! Some of the content, however, seems inappropriate for this audience… for example: when one of our Peer Educators was giving a presentation on Hygiene, the kids got uncomfortable and started whispering to each other. When he asked the class what was wrong, they told him that they couldn’t possibly follow the recommendations he was giving them (which was to wash their towels once a week and not share towels with other people) because none of them had their own towels (most large families only had one to share) and they also couldn’t wear clean underwear every day, because many of their families couldn’t even afford to buy them a single pair of underwear to begin with. That was awkward… but at least I’ve identified one way I can improve the current presentations (i.e.: providing hygiene goals that are more realistic and achievable), because the presenters are already outstanding!

After the presentations, the school provides our team with afternoon tea and sometimes a whole meal (Although a few of the 22 schools we serve are unable to afford to provide lunch at school). It is important to note at this point that while these schools clearly need the food more than we do, it would be rude and culturally unacceptable to refuse this kind gesture. In fact, accepting the school’s offering graciously is the best way you can show your appreciation and avoid hurting the pride of the teachers there, who are unable to provide the medications or show flashy PowerPoint presentations like we do. Besides, we don’t know which schools even want to provide lunch to us, because it would be rude for us to ask ahead of time and they serve us each full plates without prior warning.

After we eat, the whole team pitches in to finish seeing the remaining patients using a triage system (aka sending the serious patients directly to our licensed nurse). Then we pack up, I give the kids high-fives as they crowd around me, and I give the Head Teacher a gift of 12 soaps for students and teachers to use (hopefully every time they use the bathroom or are about to eat) and a final official handshake.

When we get back to the office, I need to pay each staff member lunch stipends (which they get regardless of whether the school provides lunch or not—mainly because HopeCore doesn’t provide medical benefits and this keeps our staff happy), transport stipends (for those who live outside of Chogoria and have to commute), salary for those who work per diem, vehicle fuel, and funds to replenish our medical supplies and pay a lab to run tests on the blood samples we’ve collected.

Then, I make coffee and work with Lennah to improve our PowerPoints and fill out the necessary paperwork for financials and input data on how many students we helped that day at our mobile clinic. I am also starting to work on writing blogs for the HopeCore website and finalizing an incoming grant from Planned Parenthood Global to add HIV and unintended pregnancy prevention to our health program.  On Tuesday nights, I also attend a grant writing class via webinar through the Segal Family Foundation.

It sounds hectic—probably because it is—but I love every minute of it! I have a lot of responsibility and a lot of say over the future of the health program, as well as a determination not to let anyone down.