*This entry contains some explicit descriptions that may be difficult to read*
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I saw a lot of disturbing things over the past month. I saw extreme poverty, hunger, and violence. I saw suffering, illness, and death. Once, I saw a little girl get run over by a bicycle, sending the small canister of food she was holding fly about twenty feet through the air. Another time, I saw two men fighting. One hit the other in the face, sending him reeling into the street as a huge truck was speeding by. I didn't see the impact because I was passing on a bus, but I heard it. I'm not sure if he lived.
Every day, I saw small children huffing glue out of dirty bottles to stifle their hunger and give them the courage to ask strangers for money so they could extend life one more day. Every day, I saw at least one person lying on the side of the road or in a trash pile who very well could have been dead. I had many tense encounters with people drunk out of their minds on chang'aa, an illegal liquor which causes blindness or death in many of its users. I saw little kids playing in streams and muddy roads full of trash, diseased animals, and human feces.
I saw many things that made me question life and the order of things in this world. But I also heard laughter everywhere I went. I saw the smiles and friendly handshakes of neighbors who rely on each other's business to live. I realized that children will play no matter what situation they are forced to endure. I saw more children playing together than I've ever seen in my life.
Now when I see the slums and the hard life and the pain, I no longer feel like crying the way I did at first. Because I've met and lived with the people who reside there. I've seen the motivation and incredible potential of young people who have very defined goals and dreams.
MYSA has opened a lot of doors to these aspirations. I almost cried in the middle of several video interviews I did with my friends when they said things like "I just want to act. I know I have talent and I want people to see that. I want to make a difference" or "What impact has MYSA and Haba na Haba had on the people of Mathare? Well, you can start with me. I love music and I've always had a talent for it and now I'm doing it. Without MYSA, I might be selling drugs, stealing, or even dead." My friend Bonface told me that most of the kids he grew up with were hanged for stealing or are spending the rest of their lives in jail.
I have never seen anything make as tangible of a difference as this organization. I physically see the impact it has when I pass the kid sniffing glue on my way to a rehearsal where hundreds of other kids have given it up to sing and dance together. Football, dance, music, and drama have given these kids something to look forward to every day. And with the performing arts, it's educating the community at the same time.
At this point, I don't know what else to say. I have so many images and words floating around in my head that just don't make sense written down right now. I know these things will continue to make me think for months and even years to come.
In an e-mail to my dad, I realized that this month has taught me more about humanity and myself than any other component of the trip, even if it wasn't necessarily the most unique experience (compared to hunter/gatherers, pastoralists, drinking goat's blood, the rainforest, etc.). I had a lot of alone time in complete silence that forced me to think about many things related to the experience and about the future, home, and why I'm doing what I'm doing.
I'm now back at the compound in Karen relaxing, putting up a fake Christmas tree and listening to Christmas music in an attempt to make the transition back to the States a little easier. A strange and complex feeling is settling in as I prepare to say goodbye to this place and to my St. Lawrence friends (who I've lived with for five months, so that will be anything but easy) and to re-unite with my family, friends, and Julia. Hopefully I will get a chance to write something again before I leave, but if not, kwaherini na ninapenda nyinyi.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Going into my last week at MYSA
The 20th Anniversary celebration went off pretty well, despite terrible weather and a field full of mud. Unfortunately, we didn't get to perform due to the coniditions. Everything was outside and the ground was too dangerous for the dancers and acrobats. Hopefully, we'll get to perform this Saturday when we do one of the community outreach programs.
The Norwegian combined piece actually turned out pretty nicely and is a really neat sampling of both cultures. I feel pretty ridiculous doing both, but I'm enjoying it thoroughly.
The other night, we all went out to a bar then to a club called Florida 2000. I had a great time, despite accidentally dancing with one prostitute and getting harrassed and hit on by at least three others. That was weird.
We went to a play in Nairobi on Sunday, which was really nice and the first piece of theater on a stage I've really seen since the Globe. I had dinner that night with one of the guys from Haba na Haba and we had a really good personal conversation. I'm really starting to feel like a part of the group and their friend now, rather than that bearded guy from the U.S. who's volunteering with MYSA.
Yesterday, I had the day off and spent three hours wading through archives at the national newspaper headquarters. I found all kinds of really messed up, but interesting stories about these gangs I'm researching. I set up an interview with an investigative journalist for next Monday and I'm hoping to talk to my government professor as well.
Things are going well and I'm realizing how sad I'll be to leave this place. But I'm equally excited about coming home again. I was just cast in a play for next semester and I'm super pumped! The role actually might require me to keep growing my beard, which would be really funny. Anyway, better run. I need to eat.
The Norwegian combined piece actually turned out pretty nicely and is a really neat sampling of both cultures. I feel pretty ridiculous doing both, but I'm enjoying it thoroughly.
The other night, we all went out to a bar then to a club called Florida 2000. I had a great time, despite accidentally dancing with one prostitute and getting harrassed and hit on by at least three others. That was weird.
We went to a play in Nairobi on Sunday, which was really nice and the first piece of theater on a stage I've really seen since the Globe. I had dinner that night with one of the guys from Haba na Haba and we had a really good personal conversation. I'm really starting to feel like a part of the group and their friend now, rather than that bearded guy from the U.S. who's volunteering with MYSA.
Yesterday, I had the day off and spent three hours wading through archives at the national newspaper headquarters. I found all kinds of really messed up, but interesting stories about these gangs I'm researching. I set up an interview with an investigative journalist for next Monday and I'm hoping to talk to my government professor as well.
Things are going well and I'm realizing how sad I'll be to leave this place. But I'm equally excited about coming home again. I was just cast in a play for next semester and I'm super pumped! The role actually might require me to keep growing my beard, which would be really funny. Anyway, better run. I need to eat.
Rediscovering the Guitar
12/1 12:29 a.m. Umoja apartment
I just played guitar with the nicest man named Poppi for about two hours. Most
of the time we just played. We didn't even need to talk, we just communicated
through our music. He grew up in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (then Zaire) and his father refused to let him pursue music. He insisted that Poppi study math, which he did until his father passed away. Now he is a briliant musician and plays in a band but is currently attending school, so doesn't have as much time to play. We played some relaly laid back jazz and I rediscovered some nice progressions and even taught him one he really liked. His soloing style is beautiful and when I
asked him about it, he said he simply plays from the structure of the chords starting from different places on the neck. It's wonderful how nights like this one just seem to happen over here. I am truly rediscovering the guitar.
I just played guitar with the nicest man named Poppi for about two hours. Most
of the time we just played. We didn't even need to talk, we just communicated
through our music. He grew up in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (then Zaire) and his father refused to let him pursue music. He insisted that Poppi study math, which he did until his father passed away. Now he is a briliant musician and plays in a band but is currently attending school, so doesn't have as much time to play. We played some relaly laid back jazz and I rediscovered some nice progressions and even taught him one he really liked. His soloing style is beautiful and when I
asked him about it, he said he simply plays from the structure of the chords starting from different places on the neck. It's wonderful how nights like this one just seem to happen over here. I am truly rediscovering the guitar.
Norwegian funniness
11/30 7 p.m. Umoja apartment
Rehearsals for Saturday's 20th Anniversary celebration with the Norwegian drama group have been really interesting. One big part of that is the three languages being thrown around (Swahili, English, Norwegian) and I'm still not used to the extreme lack of organization.
And anytime I try to suggest something to Haba na Haba during their discussions in rehearsal (similar to Whisper business), they start talking about it in rapid Swahili slang so I can't understand it and add input or explain myself better if they're misunderstanding me.
The Norwegian situation is a bit stressful because they don't understand the culture as well as I do and I see miscommunications happening all the time, but never feel like it's my place to say anything. One good example is the original attempt to play syncopated African drums to a 3/4 count Norwegian folk song, which I immediately knew would end in disater. And it did...with all of us doing a funny little line dance kicking thing to a completely different rhythm from either of the other existing two (the drums and the singing) and people tripping over themselves in a comic mess. Then the Norwegians would speak rapid Norwegian to each other and the Kenyans would yell rapid Swahili to each other and I would just kind of mumble to myself in English, trying to hide a grumpy face.
Our attempt at blending traditional dances from both cultures and performing a combined skit about a king (which makes very little sense) drags on for at least half an hour. Then, we were trying to figure out a way to wrap it all up after the song that closes the skit and someone suggested having each individual person (there are about 20 of us) do an individual dance in the middle before exiting. Some of the Norwegians interpreted this as dancing the polka into the middle in pairs,
then re-joining the line. The next 20 minutes or so consisted of a confused debacle where the Kenyans took turns shaking their butts in front of our half-assed semicircle line thing while some of the Norwegians did sporadic little polka jigs, sometimes in pairs and sometimes alone. Then at some point, someone decided we should exit and led everyone out in a sort of follow-the-leader kanga line thing. Then there was some more incomprehensible foreign babble and the Norwegians had to leave so they wouldn't hit rush hour traffic.
The whole ordeal was bizarre. But honestly, this sort of thing barely even stands out over here. I honestly am hardly phased anymore. Despite my cynicism, the cultural dancing stuff is really neat and we have a good time together. And hey, I learned the polka. Julia, get ready :)
In other news, I went to the National Archives and the Daily Nation Media Centre today to research for my paper on slum violence, gangs, Mungiki, and chang'aa. I continue to find more and more fascinating information on the dynamics of this volatile situation. The Haba na Haba people have been extremely helpful and I've interviewed about five of them about personal experiences and observations. I've also done several videoed interveiews about MYSA and the impact of Haba na Haba, which have really blown my mind. These kids have said some of the most inspirational things I've ever heard in my life and I'm really excited to attempt to create a promotional video when I return to the states.
Rehearsals for Saturday's 20th Anniversary celebration with the Norwegian drama group have been really interesting. One big part of that is the three languages being thrown around (Swahili, English, Norwegian) and I'm still not used to the extreme lack of organization.
And anytime I try to suggest something to Haba na Haba during their discussions in rehearsal (similar to Whisper business), they start talking about it in rapid Swahili slang so I can't understand it and add input or explain myself better if they're misunderstanding me.
The Norwegian situation is a bit stressful because they don't understand the culture as well as I do and I see miscommunications happening all the time, but never feel like it's my place to say anything. One good example is the original attempt to play syncopated African drums to a 3/4 count Norwegian folk song, which I immediately knew would end in disater. And it did...with all of us doing a funny little line dance kicking thing to a completely different rhythm from either of the other existing two (the drums and the singing) and people tripping over themselves in a comic mess. Then the Norwegians would speak rapid Norwegian to each other and the Kenyans would yell rapid Swahili to each other and I would just kind of mumble to myself in English, trying to hide a grumpy face.
Our attempt at blending traditional dances from both cultures and performing a combined skit about a king (which makes very little sense) drags on for at least half an hour. Then, we were trying to figure out a way to wrap it all up after the song that closes the skit and someone suggested having each individual person (there are about 20 of us) do an individual dance in the middle before exiting. Some of the Norwegians interpreted this as dancing the polka into the middle in pairs,
then re-joining the line. The next 20 minutes or so consisted of a confused debacle where the Kenyans took turns shaking their butts in front of our half-assed semicircle line thing while some of the Norwegians did sporadic little polka jigs, sometimes in pairs and sometimes alone. Then at some point, someone decided we should exit and led everyone out in a sort of follow-the-leader kanga line thing. Then there was some more incomprehensible foreign babble and the Norwegians had to leave so they wouldn't hit rush hour traffic.
The whole ordeal was bizarre. But honestly, this sort of thing barely even stands out over here. I honestly am hardly phased anymore. Despite my cynicism, the cultural dancing stuff is really neat and we have a good time together. And hey, I learned the polka. Julia, get ready :)
In other news, I went to the National Archives and the Daily Nation Media Centre today to research for my paper on slum violence, gangs, Mungiki, and chang'aa. I continue to find more and more fascinating information on the dynamics of this volatile situation. The Haba na Haba people have been extremely helpful and I've interviewed about five of them about personal experiences and observations. I've also done several videoed interveiews about MYSA and the impact of Haba na Haba, which have really blown my mind. These kids have said some of the most inspirational things I've ever heard in my life and I'm really excited to attempt to create a promotional video when I return to the states.
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