As I stand in the kitchen and clear (although undrinkable) water flows from the tap into the sink, I glance through the apartment window. This affords a great view of the river that meanders behind the school compound wall. I can see a lady about to do the same chore as me -  washing up. The difference is that her water today is a deep muddy brown and flowing downstream apace.

There is no doubt that the river is an integral part of everyday life for the local community and I suspect has been so since Bingham Academy was built and the river cut it’s course through open fields and countryside.

There is a taxi washing business on the nearside bank and young men are using the familiar yellow, cut-off oil containers to collect water. An old man with a bulging, grey sack on his head descends the hill to the water’s edge on the far side of the river. Here he lifts down his burden and deposits the rubbish contained in it, some is carried down stream as the water laps against the muddy bank. The river is often used as a latrine and today is no exception.

A herd of donkeys arrive driven down to cross the swirling water, pausing only to drink briefly before their minder whips them on. It is sunny today and people have come to bathe in the water. A lady is washing arms and face and a man is stripped to the waist.  There is a particular large smooth rock favoured for scrubbing clothes that impedes the river’s flow. Today a man is standing in the water up to his calves beside the rock. His own clothing is hitched up to reveal stick thin legs. As he  scrubs at the fabric before him, the suds are drifting away in the current. Meanwhile various articles of clothing are swaying in the breeze on makeshift washing lines nearby.

When the water level is low enough there are stepping stones that protrude from the surface and folk wait patiently for their turn to traverse the river from bank to bank (as crossing mid stepping stone appears impossible). It is an opportunity for meeting and greeting during the enforced pause. Today I watch a priest crossing in his flowing white shamma, he is using his prayer stick to balance. A man in a shiny suit leaps from the final stone carrying a brief case. Surely not, yes that guy really is preparing to carry those lengths of wood across. I recall then the day I watched one of the Entoto wood ladies carrying her enormous burden over to the far bank.

During the current rainy season however, the river can quickly become wild and impassable. This happened earlier this week when even the local youth came out to stand on the bank and watch the maelstrom. Some took photos on their phones.

The day after we moved in, the river water had changed colour completely to a creamy white. We were told this was possibly caused by effluent from a factory up stream.

Perhaps the most ingenious river pass-time to observe is about to take place. There are two vertical poles close to the nearside bank with a horizontal metal pole fixed between them. This forms a pull up bar providing an exercise opportunity for the guy who has just jumped up to grasp it. He gazes out at the river flowing past as he completes his workout routine.

‘People watching’ has rarely been so fascinating!

In other news…

Child Development was a fascinating IGCSE to teach last year to three students who requested to study it. There was a significant benefit in having a class of four and five year olds available for them to select from and observe for their child studies. However I felt I benefitted too by refreshing my knowledge and finding ways to convey the subject matter to much older grades than I’ve ever been used to.

Well done to the girls. One got an A and the other two a B.