A nation of miracles 🇰🇪

When schools reopened in Kenya for Form 4, Class 8 and Grade 4 amid the corona pandemic, Mark*(not his real name), says that he was a bit concerned about his mom, a teacher.

“At first, when everyone was staying at home, I was more confident that the pandemic wouldn’t be too close to us since we were not moving a lot. While I know that there is only so much that one can do to avoid the virus, I had a sense of security,” he says.

“When they were told to go back to school, I vocally expressed my disappointment in the living room while watching the news. “Why the rush? Are exams a life and death issue? I know that schools provide safe havens for many students who come from vulnerable groups, but them going back to school meant that the teaching workforce, which isn’t that young by the way, would be most vulnerable to contracting the virus and having more serious illness.”

A study of pediatric Covid-19 patients posted on MedicalNewsToday in August, found that “children have a higher viral load than hospitalised adults and may contribute to the spread of the virus more than previously thought.”

Everyday the numbers were announced, we’d do our math in the house to determine the positivity rate, and it was not always below the 5% magic number for exactly 21 consecutive days (maybe six, seven, eight, fluctuating stuff), which meant that the curve wasn’t fully flattened. Unfortunately, when the actual infection numbers were in the range of 100–200, and sometimes even lower, everyone felt the curve was flattening, hence schools should be reopened as well as the economy as a whole.

I was also concerned that the numbers being low were a signal that we were not doing enough testing, with the Health ministry once saying that the reagents used were increasingly depleting, thus the need to get more resources to get the job done better.

Fast-forward, she diligently goes to school to teach. Wearing the mask for such a long period of time resulted in her developing skin tears behind her ears, like those developing among medics.

Stories of schools getting the virus, some teachers succumbing to the disease, send shivers down my spine. But my mom still teaches.

“Hii kazi yetu ni ya kujituma. Mungu tu ndio anatupea neema(This work requires absolute commitment. Only God can give us the grace to do the job, and remain absolutely safe. )”, she says.

Even when marking their work, she must have a mask on.

Schools and hospitals are like a warzone, and she, like other teachers, go everyday to give kids who are not their own education, but at the back of their minds they know that the virus could slip in anytime despite all the safety measures observed.

At home, Mark says that they have made peace with this. “We are not obsessively concerned about the virus reaching us, we are more worried about her being safe while at work.”

“My mom is an example of Kenyans who don’t get recognition, but are tirelessly putting their lives on the line to make a difference. Others are doctors, journalists, religious leaders, businesspeople and other workers directly interacting with masses on a daily. They are walking miracle workers, doing their service to country in the middle of a pandemic. We should acknowledge, celebrate, respect and give them all the prayers and support they need,” Mark concludes.

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This is a follow-up of A nation of miracles, a podcast episode by Voice of a Generation.

Listen on Google Podcasts .