The Boys

I have just finished reading DEOGRATIAS: A tale of Rwanda by Jean-Phillipe Stassen and I realized that I could not end these blog posts without talking about the boys.

Allan: 

Allan, my heart, is supposedly 24 years old although he looks about 20. Many people think Allan is Kenyan because he speaks Kukuyu fluently, however he is actually a refugee of the Rwandan genocide. I would like to tell you his story, but I can't. The history of Rwanda is dark, even in the graphic novel form of Deogratias, it is hard to imagine the heinous crimes that took place for years in this region of Africa. As I began to talk to Allan he mentioned to me that he lost his family in 1992, the year I was born. I stopped him there, unable to wrap my mind around anything else he might say, unable to imagine that someone so beautiful had to experience something so ugly. I almost cried with just the mention of it. For the time that I spent with Allan, I discovered so much more about him outside of his past and his current situation. Allan who told me he never has fun because he is always serious, likes to play soccer. He has a huge smile, likes to read and aspires to one day hold a job and help his community. Allan said he would never want a family because he is poor and he cannot see himself being a supportive husband or father, by the end of his week with us, Allan decided he would consider it. He is very shy, extremely shy and uncomfortable in social/party atmospheres... but he can dance if you get him going. Allan is smart, ambitious, and resilient, and it was not until I was editing a documentary of our trip that I discovered things about him. For instance, that Allan has dealt with large bouts of abandonment and poverty in his lifetime. He looks to the people of Harambee as family and father figures for him. He has a strong sense of failure, but he is also hopeful for the future. I have loved Allan from the moment I met him, because he reminds me of people I have encountered in my life. People who are quiet storms of strength, sorrow, and hope. Allan is like a classic novel, unwritten. He is the embodiment of the work of Toni Morrison and Octavia Butler. He has a kind've poetic justice about himself and his life that I can only respect, admire and be humbled by the fact that he chose to share it with us.

Tony: 

Tony is a streetboy. To be quite honest, that is all I knew about him while in Kenya. But there where other things I gathered about him that earned him this spot in my blog. I did not meet Tony on the first day we were introduced to the boys of Dagoretti Market. I was overwhelmed with everything that was happening, so instead I stood by myself huddled next to some american someone who wouldn't be bombarded by excited children. Yeah, I'm a little lame and anti-social in really intense situations. Tony however seemed to remember me as someone worth knowing by the second time we met (which inevitably became the first time we actually met). The way that I discovered this is because Tony walked over to me and introduced himself but as I went to introduce myself, he already knew my name. He smiled at me, which was not uncommon because all the Kenyan men just love to smile and have beautiful smiles!, as a sign of friendliness and showed us around a slaughter house and the small area of Dagoretti Market. That was it for Tony and I that day, but as I rushed back to the van, anxiously trying to get near Dennis (the protector) and away from the boys attempting to marry my classmate Raven, I noticed Tony pull a few away from us and back toward the marketplace. It appeared to me that Tony had a little bit of protector in him too.  The next time I ran into Tony was on an interview day. We were going to lunch and it was the first time I had really been alone with him and his friends (by alone I mean without at least half of my group). I complained to Tony how no one seemed to like me in Kenya because they turned away from me every time I tried to wave or say hello, but embraced all of my group-mates.  Tony reassured me that it was not my fault and that I was pretty, Tony was immediately on my good side. As the afternoon continued I notice he was somewhat shy around me and stared/winked at me a lot. My deductive reasoning skills told me that Tony had a slight crush on me (Michael also may have mentioned it). To sum up this story and not make Tony's piece too long, he ends up helping me a lot on that day and was very kind to me while also continuously gawking at me which was flattering and uncomfortable. On our last day Tony walked up to me and said he made something for me, as I bursted into tears, he unwrapped hand-made earrings for me and every girl in my group. I love you Tony. I gave him a hug and said goodbye, Tony became my Kenyan crush and I am sad to know I may never see him again. Back in America, I found out Tony's story while editing our documentary. Tony is also around 24 years old, and he has dreams of being a lawyer. He also lost his family and traveled to Nairobi as a younger man. He mentioned that he would like to help the streetboys because he knows he did not have many opportunities in his life and did not take advantage of the ones that he did have. Tony became the star of many of our interviews because he is an eloquent speaker and offers words of inspiration. Sigh, I will stop talking about Tony now because he is one of the few boys we may really never see again.

Cetrick:

I met Cetrick on our last day in Kenya. I was asked by my group to break him out of his shell and so I went to work getting to know him. Cetrick wasn't as shy as the other boys. He went to school and told me he liked to dance and play sports. He lived with Allan, Kabro, and David but was working on getting his own place. Cetrick was also younger than most of the other boys we met, somewhere in between 17-19 yrs old (one can never be sure with the sly Kenyan lies). Anyway! I took to Cetrick well and his appearance reminded me of my cousin so thus he was deemed "Cousin Cetrick Sterling".  He was kind to me by adapting to the name quite easily. The day we spent together was far too short. I complained of having to leave him behind as we prepared to come back to America, though I did give him a bracelet as a token of our friendship. Cetrick called our Professor Mark, as well as Michael (Harambee Staff member ) in order to contact me and ask me not to be sad about our departure. He promised he would come to see us goodbye and I realized that Cetrick gained more from that day than any one of us had noticed. After arriving back in America, I talked to Cetrick often. I found out he wakes up at 5am and makes a 2 hour trek to school everyday, which was why it took us so long to meet him. I also found that he has a sister whom he does not get to see often. Cetrick was eager for me to come back and visit and soon I would realize why, one day, out of nowhere, he said he loved me. I was taken back by this and though I wanted to be as polite as possible I knew that he had been alluding to romantic feelings for some time. I told Cetrick that he could not love me, because he did not know me well enough to really feel that way. Except for a few surface conversations after that, Cetrick has not spoken to me since.

These are not all the boys I met in Kenya but they are some of the ones that left a lasting impression on me. I miss them terribly and I hope to one day see them again in the height of prosperity (however one chooses to define that). The boys of Kenya will always have a special place in my heart, though sometimes it feels like a hole that won't be filled until we are able to share the same space again. I will try my hardest to make this a reality but the rest will be up to the powers that be, and hopefully we will cross paths again; sharing laughter and love as we once did, Spring Break 2013.

Andrew

Ok, so I know I have been going kind of back and forth with the posts in Kenya, and after Kenya; but to make it clear, this post is mostly about after Kenya. Hahaha, my life is just a big blur of pre/post- Kenya at this point. But anyway! Meet Andrew.

Andrew, his grandmother, and his brother Patrick.

Andrew is a former streetboy, currently living in my hometown of Brooklyn, NY with a host family and going to prep-school through the Harambee program. We did not meet Andrew in Kenya nor did we find out much about him. For a short moment we met his brother Patrick who still lives in Kenya, and we met many of Andrew's friends. However, when we got back from Kenya and as we tried to settle into our lives once again, I received a Facebook message from Andrew.  The message went something like:

You don't know me, but I see that you have met my brother and friends in Kenya. Are you one of Mark's students?

Naturally, since I missed my friends in Kenya so much and they were also friends of Andrew I responded quite pleasantly and engaged in conversation. I have been talking to Andrew regularly since then. He is excited to meet me when I go back to NYC and I'm excited to meet him as well. The more important thing to know about Andrew however is that he is discovering American race relations heavily and many of our conversations shift into the subject.

Originally, Andrew just talked about how much he loved going to parties with West Indian people and listening to the music and dancing. We bonded on this because I am West Indian and grew up in that environment so it always sounds like home to me. Next however, I discovered Andrew's host family was wealthy and even had maids! I could not help but laugh when he told me because up until this point Andrew seemed like just another one of my friends from New York (besides being much younger), the subject of maids drew a line between how much we could relate and in a weird way I was almost offended by it. He just ... doesn't need maids. lol. But! I've grown enough to know that when people want what they want and can afford it, it's more likely none of the world's business. Andrew was a streetboy, now he has maids and buffet dinners, he loves his host family and his new life but he remembers where he came from. He tries to sneak around to help his maids sometimes so he doesn't feel lazy, and he tells me often how much he misses home.

Andrew the American (almost)

Andrew has an interesting distribution of friends. A good portion of them are white because he goes to a prep-school in Manhattan and that is the general population of that group. He also, somehow, has made friends that African-American and live in Harlem or different parts of Brooklyn, they teach him urban culture and slang. In the beginning, Andrew distinguished himself from his African-American friends. He said he loved black people, he asked why black people don't play soccer, he asked a bunch of questions about black people because to him he was still African. As we continued to talk he asked more questions about his white friends, why they think all black people are ghetto? Why they make fun of him when he buys melon or fried chicken? Why movies like 42 (the Jackie Robinson story) create a rift between them. We talked about these things, things I'd never had to explain diplomatically before and it almost scared me. Andrew has only been in America for a few months and he already has learned so much. His peers are enamored with him because he is novel to them, but soon enough (as seems to be happening) he will fall into their general perception of black people and Andrew will either have to cope with that or fall into a general perception of white people, which may not fair well with his host family. I'm happy to be there for Andrew to talk to about these things but it also makes me reflect on again the simplicity of being in Kenya.

America is so different from many other countries because of our large melting pot and the history of racism that exists here. We may be wealthy but now a large portion of the population is unhappy because they face things like this every day. It would be nice if there was a big emphasis on community and nationality in America like there is in Kenya. It would be nice if we could transcend the stereotypes that have dominated our social structure for years and probably will dominate for years to come.

Show me the money!

Trip Log:

Today we are leaving Safari. I’m impressed we have only been here for two days when it feels like a month. My throat is killing me!!! It hurts so bad and I hope I don’t end up getting really sick while I’m here. I met Amos today, he is very.... hmmm... attractive? His personality is very bubbly and happy and that's what I mean by attractive. He just is a fun-loving person and he has been through some things clearly, but none of that really phases him. I think he seems to love Kenya and loves the Soccer Queens, which gives me the idea that his life must be very fulfilling which obviously makes me wonder about my own. I want to be that person, who is fulfilled by what they do with their time. I know I want to be a mother, I feel strongly about that. But I’m not exactly sure what type of profession would suit me and where it would take me. I guess I’m driven by money, and maybe that holds me back. It's interesting here, people don’t seem to be motivated by money, they tend to live off the land or what they have and that makes them happy or at least relieves stress. But at the same time, they hound us for money all the time, even the babies. I'm left to believe that the small dependency they may have on money must take away from the simplicity of it all.

Amos <3

Amos, Amos, Amos. You have never met people like Amos and David, I am just sure of it. I cannot explain how much I LOVE Amos and David, they are a large portion of why I fell in love with Kenya. Getting to know Amos and David really brought social awareness to the forefront for our group. They explained to us some of the things they have experienced and where they feel Kenya needs to progress as a country. Within all these conversations, the one thing I found out about Amos and David (other than the fact that they are awesmazing, and oodles of fun) is that they love Kenya. Shocker?! Maybe not, but it shocked me! You would think due to Kenya's poor economy and major class differences that people would be unhappy with the way they live, but this is not true. Many people want to advance themselves and have new experiences but they prefer to be in Kenya than anywhere else. A lot of people have not experienced anywhere else, but their desires to do so are also quite slim. I realized that many of the people we met including David and Amos did not feel the need to live beyond their means as everyone seems to in America. They liked being outside, interacting with the community and taking things slow. I though this was INCREDIBLE. 

David, Cetrick, and I at the Giraffe Observatory

The merchants that we encountered in Kenya, quite frankly, made me EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTABLE.  I have never experienced people shoving items at me in every which direction to try and convince me or my peers to make purchases. The sheer amount of anxiety and anger I was experiencing, exhausted me as I tried to hold back my aggression towards the entire situation. I wrote intensely about how hard it was for me to cope with the idea of being wealthier than someone else. I could not fathom the idea of people asking ME for money! and as it happened to us frequently, I had to realize that regardless of where I've come from or what I think of myself, everyone here is just trying to make a living the best way they can. No one is trying to inconvenience me and the selfishness of my actions was making me feel angry and guilty at the same time. Mostly, I was confused and wanted to cry. 

I give kudos to Dennis, our guide/friend/ and van driver for helping us (or maybe me in particular) feel more comfortable being approached by people. Dennis reminded me of my Dad, I felt he would always be there if we needed him and he reassured us that things will be okay no matter how uncomfortable they may have seemed at the time. He filled us in on history, and funny stories that made everything more understandable and easier to digest. Dennis along with David and Amos were integral parts of my adjustment to being in a different country. 

All of these experiences tie into my take-away from these key individuals: money is not everything. For this reason I decided to follow my heart in choosing what steps to take for the rest of my academic career. I want to have a direct impact on people and I want to be able to build relationships with the people I am aiming to work with. For these reasons I have chosen to continue on a path towards becoming a public health practitioner and hopefully moving on to working on international/global health.

NEXT POST: Andrew

Tradition v. Growing up

Trip log:

"On our way to safari, we've passed so many people. People who live in remoteplaces and bustling markets. We've met children and seen so many plants andanimals. I feel the overwhelming real ness of being here. Its a dream, apicture, a video clip or something intangible and yet under my feet. Researchalive. Most importantly though I'm sensing a turning point in my life. I've hadno goals after this I've had no passion for anything in particular but I knowsomething now. I know that things that children only dream about and things thatseem impossible take endurance. And for that reason I now hope to endure toaccomplish more, more than I thought possible. Inevitably I am becomingthe girl that is out of touch. The one who shares stories but notexperiences. Soon enough I'll have to embrace the fact that my accomplishmentsdo not void my authenticity, but they do advance you away from things you onceidentified with. That's growth I suppose. So far, Africa has taught me growthand respect for people, for lives not yet lived and those left in the past."

As we drove to the Masai Resort, I noticed a change in the environment from city-life to the rural/remote lifestyle of the Masai people. It triggered a very interesting response in me to notice how Kenyans were able to preserve their past and future within miles of each other. In America, I feel it is so common to leave your past behind you as you move forward, however, in Kenya both cultures (traditional & popular) seemed like two halves of a whole country, nothing really left behind because both were treated with a mutual respect. I pondered this as we moved through our 6 hour ride, and my body became numb from the tremendous amount of bouncing, shaking, and jumping along the rocky road of the Rift Valley. I looked out the window for hours before it dawned on me that Kenya was showing me another life lesson. I have been afraid of moving away from the person I was growing up. Worried that if I deviated too far from my inner-city kid mentality, I would no longer be authentic and would lose a piece of my identity. In some ways, this idea has held me back from pursuing other opportunities, mostly because it has become a mental block in my perception of the things I have and am able to accomplish. I've worried about becoming the symbol of privilege that I'd always resented, but on this trip I realized it was soon to be inevitable.

However, just as the Masai people exist in the same world and time as the more modern citizens of Nairobi, development incorporates all aspect of a person's identity. I will always be the girl I grew up as, her experiences are my own. As I grow older some things will have to change and many things will have to be let go to make room for the new experiences and education that will be added to my life. This does not make me any less authentic, and this is not me selling out. I've learned to look at it as two halves of the entire me, my past and my future working together to build the life that I am living. I appreciated this in the same way I appreciated learning the traditional values and customs of the Masai, and comparing them to the very similar values of the streetboys we spoke to in Dagoretti Market. Many things can change about a country, a culture, or a person in the process of growth, but the essence of who you are will always be incorporated in who you want to be.

Arielle, Corinne, Kelly, Meagan, Raven, and I singing with the women of the Masai Mara village.

The Kabro Story

Okay! So we got through after Kenya, Let's talk about what happened IN Kenya. During our trip I learned a lot about myself which I was not expecting to happen.

 The moment I remember the most, and that I think set the tone for the rest of the trip, was watching the Harambee/ D4K (the NGO we were working with) video that featured Kabro, one of our Kenyan friends/ Harambee boy. In the video, Kabro was thirteen years old living on the streets of Dagoretti Market. We watched him buy glue to sniff, struggle for food, and talk about his home life. He was small, smiling a lot, determined, and at the time reminded me of a baby or a little brother. The entire viewing experience was sort of surreal because Kabro was sitting right in the room with us older now and very different from the boy in the film. In the video, Kabro goes back home to his mother and tells her that he wants to do well and does not want to be on the street, or cause trouble, or sniff glue anymore. He says he wants to be successful so that he can help his mother and his family, and he also cooks for them.

When I watched him do/say these things, I couldn't help but think about the ambitions that got me to college. The whole reason I studied or did anything right in school was because I wanted so badly to never have to see my family live in the conditions we were in. I did not want to have to worry if our car would be outside the next morning, or if I will fall asleep on a rat tonight, or what the heck kind of fungus is growing on our ceiling. Relative to the countries we represent, I understood Kabro's wish to just not have to witness anymore stress and suffering. I understood the streetboys desires to not be a burden on their parents who could barely afford enough food to feed them, and it was here that I really began to understand what we were up against. These boys are like inner-city boys, like the boys I grew up with. They are in search of family, guidance, and a way out. It was interesting to me to see how many forms one problem can take.

Nakupenda

Well! It's been a while but I'm back! There are so many things to address but this blog is simply going to talk about my after-Kenya woes, so let's get to it!

As I had said before, Kenya was a place I'd only dreamed about. Never in a million years would I have thought that I would actually make it there, Incredible. And yet for some reason I was incredibly un-effected when I arrived there. Everything seemed so familiar, so comfortable, nothing really "spoke" to me. Which disappointed my quite honestly. All my anxiousness, and nerves seemed soo... trivial at this point. Kenya was beautiful, Kenya was fun, Kenya was different, but all the adjectives in the world wouldn't compare to the IDEA of what Kenya was. That being said, I LOVED EVERY STINKIN' MINUTE OF IT! 

Post-trip: What a wave of nostalgia  What an absolute disdain for my life and environment, what a freaking wake-up call!I didn't realize how much I was affected by Kenya until it was time to leave. Until we drove up to the street boys for the last time and I knew that the chances of us ever running into each other again were slim to none. All of it just resonated so powerfully in my mind of how many lives I can't touch, and how selfish it is and feels to be here, on campus when there is so much more out there. How upsetting! to sit at the lunch table with my friends and listen to their boy problems and their small life issues, for the first time I felt so far outside of my bubble that every day just felt like I was moving along the outside of a window, looking in. I hated that feeling. It's like being orphaned, having a family and just abruptly losing it, knowing they are carrying on without you somewhere to far to reach. I just wanted to go away for a while. Re-group, re-think about all of my decisions and why they suddenly are making me unhappy. I clung to my class group, to some extent we clung to each other. Each of us knowing suddenly, how out of place we felt on this juvenile campus. Having met people who struck as more mature than ourselves at younger ages. How does one cope with the idea that the place you have visited now feels more like home than home itself? I think that was the question we cried, laughed, and sighed over... in the end that's also what brought us so much closer.

That feeling has subsided slowly as I've assimilated back into campus culture, but it hasn't completely gone away. The work that we put into this class now has become a necessity  We no longer meet out of obligation, we meet because there is a part of everyone in this group that only we can understand. The things that we do, and the way that we feel, is a direct reflection of the impact of every person we met on our trip. Michael, Michael M., David, Amos, Cabro, Allan, Cetrick, Soccer Queens, Rachel, Roman, Tony, David, Simon, Ezekial, King Pin (Simon), Councilman Karanja, Peter, ... even as I list their names now I have the stark image of Michael Mungai sitting in the corner of Dagoretti Market, surrounded by familiar faces. He looks different than they do, but the feeling, the feeling in that moment is unmistakable. It's a welcome home that is bittersweet. It's everything you love and everything you've lost at the same time... the only way I can explain it. Our mission as a group has become less about the grade and more about our friends. The friends that we may or may not encounter again are the people we want to empower now, at this moment, in any way that we can. That's why we commit as much time and effort as we do, we now share the same dreams as they do.

So that's why the coming home transition felt like hell. One moment you're truly understanding what it means to live in every moment, and the next you're dropped back into your superficial lifestyle. For me personally? I had no one to turn to. Recently, I lost my closest friends due to unresolved differences and... I felt so alone in this. It was nice to be treated so nicely by the people we met in Kenya, and it was nice to witness/feel support from every angle. The moment we left was the first time within that week & change, that I remembered what it felt like to be alone, and of course I hated that as well. A part of me still feels like I belong somewhere, with the friends that I made and their memory of me. I hope at least, that they will always consider me (for however short our time was) a close friend. I am granted relief in every moment I get a FB post, or message from someone who hasn't forgotten me yet. And I look forward to meeting Andrew who is now living with a host family in Brooklyn and always has a lot to share with me about his culture, his past, and our friends. I don't know if this blog post conveyed my feelings accurately, but this was my stream of though when asked how I felt after the trip. It was all this, and more.