SOrry all!
Super busy, more soon, have to pack and move today, but pictures of my new house--taken right outside my door, in the meantime!
\okay and tried to upload them but it's taking forever....so sorry to be a tease, but check back soon!
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
And score.....
So today I went to the Kenya National Theatre-- Kenya's biggest theatre just to do some research on the theatre scene in Kenya. I've been trying to visit as many theatres as possible just to get a feel for the landscape.
So I go there wanting to talk to someone in the role of an "artistic director," but it's impossible to find out who such a person might be beforehand and like, make an appointment, so in true African style I just go. I walk in, and just ask the first person I see for the artistic director and they give me a blank stare, so I'm like, "um, anyone who deals with theatre." They point me across the street and say I might find the manager, whatever that means, there. So I weave through a bunch of offices until I find a door that says "manager." I go in, and just say, "Hi, I'm a director from America, and I am directing here and doing some research and I'd like to speak to the manager." See this is my new tactic. Don't say anything about "student," just say "American Director" and see what people do. So the secretary goes in to this office and comes out to say that she will squeeze me in after her meeting. So I wait 20 minutes, which is good because I haven't written any questions for this "interview." Well I scratch some things out and then my turn comes.
I interview her for about 10 minutes about how the theatre works: companies either pay and rent the space (which is expensive), or sometimes they select groups that they give it too for free, but there isn't a residence company, and the season is just decided by what people want to do. She says that there are enough theatre companies who want to rent the space that it's usually pretty full. So we talk about the role of theatre in Kenya and yadda yadda and then she asks me what I'm doing here, and I tell her about how I am directing this ensemble-generated piece with youths in Kibera about issues they face, and without realizing it, I find myself saying "And I think that it would be a really good thing to be performed here." I hadn't even considered that thought before, but there it goes out of my pushy mouth. Well this lady looks me up and down for a minute, and I can tell she is thinking "who is this girl, and how old is she, and what does she really think she's doing..." and then she goes, "Well, why should I let you do that, I assume you can't pay, so why should I give you the space." I take a deep breath and say, in my best sales-pitch, I will convince you voice, "Well I think that this piece is a perfect example of the power theatre can have to educate, which you were just talking about. It exemplifies theatre's ability to create open forums about important issues, it would be an act that would de-stratify this theatre along class lines and I think that performing it here would be an incredibly empowering statement, as well as experience for these talented artists who don't get the recognition they deserve because of their financial status." And she pauses for a looong moment which I squirm and then she starts to laugh. And laugh. And goes, "I like you. You've got some spirit. Okay. When?" And my mouth falls open, and I instantly produce my calender and go, "Friday November 30th." She consults her calender and goes, "November 30th it is. What's this play called?" So I make up a name for our as of yet unnamed and un-started piece, and she goes, "well Ms....." and I go, "Posner, so sorry, my name is Jessica Posner" (I'm like falling over myself I'm so excited, but trying my best to be cool and professional and like this happens to me all the time." She goes, "Well Ms. Posner, come back next week to confirm all of the technical details."
I run out of that office so fast, meet Kennedy who is picking me up, and I tell him and we are just like, WHAT just happened? And I go, "I can't believe I just convinced the National Theatre to let us do our piece HERE!" And he goes, "I can't either!"
So I've got a lot of work to do for the Kenya National Theatre Debut.
So I go there wanting to talk to someone in the role of an "artistic director," but it's impossible to find out who such a person might be beforehand and like, make an appointment, so in true African style I just go. I walk in, and just ask the first person I see for the artistic director and they give me a blank stare, so I'm like, "um, anyone who deals with theatre." They point me across the street and say I might find the manager, whatever that means, there. So I weave through a bunch of offices until I find a door that says "manager." I go in, and just say, "Hi, I'm a director from America, and I am directing here and doing some research and I'd like to speak to the manager." See this is my new tactic. Don't say anything about "student," just say "American Director" and see what people do. So the secretary goes in to this office and comes out to say that she will squeeze me in after her meeting. So I wait 20 minutes, which is good because I haven't written any questions for this "interview." Well I scratch some things out and then my turn comes.
I interview her for about 10 minutes about how the theatre works: companies either pay and rent the space (which is expensive), or sometimes they select groups that they give it too for free, but there isn't a residence company, and the season is just decided by what people want to do. She says that there are enough theatre companies who want to rent the space that it's usually pretty full. So we talk about the role of theatre in Kenya and yadda yadda and then she asks me what I'm doing here, and I tell her about how I am directing this ensemble-generated piece with youths in Kibera about issues they face, and without realizing it, I find myself saying "And I think that it would be a really good thing to be performed here." I hadn't even considered that thought before, but there it goes out of my pushy mouth. Well this lady looks me up and down for a minute, and I can tell she is thinking "who is this girl, and how old is she, and what does she really think she's doing..." and then she goes, "Well, why should I let you do that, I assume you can't pay, so why should I give you the space." I take a deep breath and say, in my best sales-pitch, I will convince you voice, "Well I think that this piece is a perfect example of the power theatre can have to educate, which you were just talking about. It exemplifies theatre's ability to create open forums about important issues, it would be an act that would de-stratify this theatre along class lines and I think that performing it here would be an incredibly empowering statement, as well as experience for these talented artists who don't get the recognition they deserve because of their financial status." And she pauses for a looong moment which I squirm and then she starts to laugh. And laugh. And goes, "I like you. You've got some spirit. Okay. When?" And my mouth falls open, and I instantly produce my calender and go, "Friday November 30th." She consults her calender and goes, "November 30th it is. What's this play called?" So I make up a name for our as of yet unnamed and un-started piece, and she goes, "well Ms....." and I go, "Posner, so sorry, my name is Jessica Posner" (I'm like falling over myself I'm so excited, but trying my best to be cool and professional and like this happens to me all the time." She goes, "Well Ms. Posner, come back next week to confirm all of the technical details."
I run out of that office so fast, meet Kennedy who is picking me up, and I tell him and we are just like, WHAT just happened? And I go, "I can't believe I just convinced the National Theatre to let us do our piece HERE!" And he goes, "I can't either!"
So I've got a lot of work to do for the Kenya National Theatre Debut.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
My New Do
So plaiting hair here in Kenya is a serious issue. And let me tell you, a cultural experience. Bored and unable as of yet to DO a lot, my mom and I were like, well what would be fun and doable here? I know! Let's plait your hair! So 8 hours later here it is... Post responses here!
Some Thoughts
Hello Everyone!
Okay after a bit of a low key week (yes maybe a slight understatement) I am back in action. Still taking it slowish (so don’t freak out mom), but feeling ALIVE again. Maleria is not a fun sickness. I have been forbidden by my mother to “post a dramatic (me? Never!) blog entry” about having maleria at least until one week after I’m entirely cured so as not to alarm you all. But don’t worry. I’m okay. Today was the first day I felt like a human again! And so in about a week when my mom is convinced that I won’t die, I will tell you more.
So what have been I doing while ill? Well mostly sleeping, receiving MANY visitors both in the hospital and at home, working on my project, and reading about other horrible illnesses such as AIDS and other foreign aid disasters. Okay so two books that I really recommend: The White Man’s Burden: how the West has done so much ill and so little to help the rest by William Easterly and 28 Stories of AIDS in Africa by Stephanie Nolen.
Sometimes even after being used to being here, and being far more exposed to most to areas of such extreme poverty I am still sometimes just shocked and overwhelmed by some of the realities of life here.
AIDS and the reality of the incredibly high prevelance, the ever-increasing rate of infection and the economic, social and political devestation wrecked by this pandemic is just one of these issues. SO how did the crisis develop? Here are some thoughts from Stephanie Nolan that I found incredibly illuminating, and I hope you will too. “The idea that the virus had come from Africa, one more disaster from the “dark continent,” was seized upon in the West in the late 1980’s, and many African leaders, sending the racism that lay behind this theory, began to deny that AIDS was a problem, long past the point that their countries were in grave trouble.”
This is perhaps my FAVORITE passage, as it really applies to perceptions of Africa in general. I feel I really relate to this after my own minor health crisis, as dealing with people’s responses to my being unwell in “AFRICA” was interesting, as they were always well meaning, and often quite misguided, to say the least. “There is always a danger in talking about “Africa”—as if it is one place, one country, one homogeneous story. Africa is FIFTY-THREE (my emphasis) countries, many of which are themselves made up of HUNDREDS (again my emphasis) of peoples and cultures. Prosperous South Africa has more in common with France than it does with anarchic Somalia, the deserts of Mali, or the Kibera slum of Kenya. As such, there is no monolithic story of AIDS (or I will add any other sickness or situation!!) in Africa. However there are factors that are common across sub-Saharan African countries, from the legacy of colonialism to the patterns of conflict and migrant labour which had had a direct influence on how the story of AIDS unfolded in the region.”
So you, like I was, may be wondering why Africa? How did the AIDS crisis get to be so devastating here? How is it that by the best estimates some African countries have an HIV prevelance rate of well over 40% of all adults? How is it that, again, by the best estimates it is thought that of all those in Africa infected with HIV ONLY 10% have been tested? How did it become this way?
I think Nolan has some great thoughts. She says, “A great many things made Africa particuraly susceptible to AIDS, some of them innate to the communities where the disease flourished, and many others imposed from outside. The key one is poverty. Put simply, millions of Africans are living with a virus from which they might have EASILY (my emphasis) been protected if they had had access to education about it, or the to the means to defending themselves.” Heartbreaking right? The AIDS pandemic in many ways may have been entirely preventable. However Nolan continues, “A lack of resources led Africans to do things—to sell sex, to stay with a philandering husband, to leave their families and seek work far away—that they might not otherwise have done; this too spread the disease. And the destitution and weakness of many sub-Saharan states crippled their abilities to respond once their populations were infected.”
So where does this poverty come from? Well, welcome the West onto the scene (surprise, surprise…sorry for the cyncisim. I swear, being away from America, I become increasingly disillusioned with Western life and values. Note my post on children.) Well this poverty (as Nolan adds), “Has its roots in the colonial era, when Africa was viewed as one huge source of raw material for the Western powers. As such its economies have been deliberately underdeveloped (I will note, another egregious story), and its peoples kept, often through violent repression, as a sort of indentured work force. The superpowers use Africa as a board in their global chess game, warping politics and development all across the region in their ideological battle and quest for control of Africa’s rich resources (a statement that is ALL too true today…but sorry folks. We will have to talk about that in person when I get home…)
Okay, a little bit on our great Western “let’s help the poor people, but really we’ll fuck them over” schemes… these have had A LOT to do with the spread of AIDS in Africa.
So in the 1980’s there became a lot of Western attention focused on development and poverty alleviation. Massive financial institutions, such as The World Bank and the International Monetary Fund decreed that the most debt-ridden African nations should overhaul their economies, or they would stop sending assistance. This became known as structural adjustment, and although it may have seemed like a good idea at the time it became a colossal disaster. It’s badly conceived user fees denied poor people to whatever health and educational systems already existed—further cutting off access to the minimal infastrucutre. Thus, by the 1990’s, this near century of foreign meddling had reduced much of Africa to a corrupt, conflict-ridden, impoverished mess—at which point rich donor countires refused to send more money to bail African governments out of the mess the West itself had largely created (for more, please read The White Man’s Burden). AIDS emerged as an “African problem” at the height of this donor crisis. So people began to ask, why single out aid for this disease when there is so much “wrong” in Africa? Why is AIDS different than the famines, wars, corruption, shortages of schools, clinics, clean water and dozens of other terrible diseases in Africa? Nolan has quite an eloquent response to such a question. “The difference is that AIDS underlies all of these problems—and it is amplifying the damage even as it undermines the ability to respond. This is because it targets the young, productive generation. It makes countries more vulnerable to political instability and environmental disasters. AIDS is stealing the hard-won gains of the past few decades: lowering school enrollments, productivity, life expectancy, child survival rates and economic growth. AIDS is horribly, inextricably tied to conflict and to famine and to the collapse of states.”
At the end of the day, from all that I have seen, I think that the West ascribes a different value to lives here in African. It’s as if because there are so many “problems” citizens should have correspondingly lowered expectations regarding the length and quality of their lives. It is if as if a dying African is expected, and thus less value is placed on that life. It is as if that dying African is different than a dying Canadian, Brit, European or American. It is as if a dying, sick, hungry African is just normal, so it’s okay. I don’t understand this. How is it that we think that to be infected, to be ill, to be hungry here is somehow less terrifying, less tragic than in the US? The only difference between someone infected here, and someone infected at home is that the person here has had the bad luck to be born in a country that is economically, politically and socially marginalized. The only difference is that they are black, and usually poor and thus their lives can slip away unremarked.
Okay after a bit of a low key week (yes maybe a slight understatement) I am back in action. Still taking it slowish (so don’t freak out mom), but feeling ALIVE again. Maleria is not a fun sickness. I have been forbidden by my mother to “post a dramatic (me? Never!) blog entry” about having maleria at least until one week after I’m entirely cured so as not to alarm you all. But don’t worry. I’m okay. Today was the first day I felt like a human again! And so in about a week when my mom is convinced that I won’t die, I will tell you more.
So what have been I doing while ill? Well mostly sleeping, receiving MANY visitors both in the hospital and at home, working on my project, and reading about other horrible illnesses such as AIDS and other foreign aid disasters. Okay so two books that I really recommend: The White Man’s Burden: how the West has done so much ill and so little to help the rest by William Easterly and 28 Stories of AIDS in Africa by Stephanie Nolen.
Sometimes even after being used to being here, and being far more exposed to most to areas of such extreme poverty I am still sometimes just shocked and overwhelmed by some of the realities of life here.
AIDS and the reality of the incredibly high prevelance, the ever-increasing rate of infection and the economic, social and political devestation wrecked by this pandemic is just one of these issues. SO how did the crisis develop? Here are some thoughts from Stephanie Nolan that I found incredibly illuminating, and I hope you will too. “The idea that the virus had come from Africa, one more disaster from the “dark continent,” was seized upon in the West in the late 1980’s, and many African leaders, sending the racism that lay behind this theory, began to deny that AIDS was a problem, long past the point that their countries were in grave trouble.”
This is perhaps my FAVORITE passage, as it really applies to perceptions of Africa in general. I feel I really relate to this after my own minor health crisis, as dealing with people’s responses to my being unwell in “AFRICA” was interesting, as they were always well meaning, and often quite misguided, to say the least. “There is always a danger in talking about “Africa”—as if it is one place, one country, one homogeneous story. Africa is FIFTY-THREE (my emphasis) countries, many of which are themselves made up of HUNDREDS (again my emphasis) of peoples and cultures. Prosperous South Africa has more in common with France than it does with anarchic Somalia, the deserts of Mali, or the Kibera slum of Kenya. As such, there is no monolithic story of AIDS (or I will add any other sickness or situation!!) in Africa. However there are factors that are common across sub-Saharan African countries, from the legacy of colonialism to the patterns of conflict and migrant labour which had had a direct influence on how the story of AIDS unfolded in the region.”
So you, like I was, may be wondering why Africa? How did the AIDS crisis get to be so devastating here? How is it that by the best estimates some African countries have an HIV prevelance rate of well over 40% of all adults? How is it that, again, by the best estimates it is thought that of all those in Africa infected with HIV ONLY 10% have been tested? How did it become this way?
I think Nolan has some great thoughts. She says, “A great many things made Africa particuraly susceptible to AIDS, some of them innate to the communities where the disease flourished, and many others imposed from outside. The key one is poverty. Put simply, millions of Africans are living with a virus from which they might have EASILY (my emphasis) been protected if they had had access to education about it, or the to the means to defending themselves.” Heartbreaking right? The AIDS pandemic in many ways may have been entirely preventable. However Nolan continues, “A lack of resources led Africans to do things—to sell sex, to stay with a philandering husband, to leave their families and seek work far away—that they might not otherwise have done; this too spread the disease. And the destitution and weakness of many sub-Saharan states crippled their abilities to respond once their populations were infected.”
So where does this poverty come from? Well, welcome the West onto the scene (surprise, surprise…sorry for the cyncisim. I swear, being away from America, I become increasingly disillusioned with Western life and values. Note my post on children.) Well this poverty (as Nolan adds), “Has its roots in the colonial era, when Africa was viewed as one huge source of raw material for the Western powers. As such its economies have been deliberately underdeveloped (I will note, another egregious story), and its peoples kept, often through violent repression, as a sort of indentured work force. The superpowers use Africa as a board in their global chess game, warping politics and development all across the region in their ideological battle and quest for control of Africa’s rich resources (a statement that is ALL too true today…but sorry folks. We will have to talk about that in person when I get home…)
Okay, a little bit on our great Western “let’s help the poor people, but really we’ll fuck them over” schemes… these have had A LOT to do with the spread of AIDS in Africa.
So in the 1980’s there became a lot of Western attention focused on development and poverty alleviation. Massive financial institutions, such as The World Bank and the International Monetary Fund decreed that the most debt-ridden African nations should overhaul their economies, or they would stop sending assistance. This became known as structural adjustment, and although it may have seemed like a good idea at the time it became a colossal disaster. It’s badly conceived user fees denied poor people to whatever health and educational systems already existed—further cutting off access to the minimal infastrucutre. Thus, by the 1990’s, this near century of foreign meddling had reduced much of Africa to a corrupt, conflict-ridden, impoverished mess—at which point rich donor countires refused to send more money to bail African governments out of the mess the West itself had largely created (for more, please read The White Man’s Burden). AIDS emerged as an “African problem” at the height of this donor crisis. So people began to ask, why single out aid for this disease when there is so much “wrong” in Africa? Why is AIDS different than the famines, wars, corruption, shortages of schools, clinics, clean water and dozens of other terrible diseases in Africa? Nolan has quite an eloquent response to such a question. “The difference is that AIDS underlies all of these problems—and it is amplifying the damage even as it undermines the ability to respond. This is because it targets the young, productive generation. It makes countries more vulnerable to political instability and environmental disasters. AIDS is stealing the hard-won gains of the past few decades: lowering school enrollments, productivity, life expectancy, child survival rates and economic growth. AIDS is horribly, inextricably tied to conflict and to famine and to the collapse of states.”
At the end of the day, from all that I have seen, I think that the West ascribes a different value to lives here in African. It’s as if because there are so many “problems” citizens should have correspondingly lowered expectations regarding the length and quality of their lives. It is if as if a dying African is expected, and thus less value is placed on that life. It is as if that dying African is different than a dying Canadian, Brit, European or American. It is as if a dying, sick, hungry African is just normal, so it’s okay. I don’t understand this. How is it that we think that to be infected, to be ill, to be hungry here is somehow less terrifying, less tragic than in the US? The only difference between someone infected here, and someone infected at home is that the person here has had the bad luck to be born in a country that is economically, politically and socially marginalized. The only difference is that they are black, and usually poor and thus their lives can slip away unremarked.
IF i ever have children, why I'd like to raise them here...
So even as I have been laying here with maleria I have realized how much I love this country, and how I really feel that a lot of my life is meant to happen here I have been thinking about how IF I ever have children, I want to raise them here. So I guess this post is not so much about my having children, because that is a looong ways off…but about some amazingly appealing things about Kenya. Kenyan community is so amazing that it defies description. In fact the values that prevail in Kenyan culture as a whole are so incredibly consistent with the beliefs that I have always held near and dear it’s scary.
First of all, a child here is not just the child of the parents, but of the entire community. They are looked after, scolded, cared for, held, played with, and loved by everyone. Babies are passed around from neighbors to neighbors. The terms “brother,” and “sister,” do not just refer to biological siblings but to those friends and playmates that you grow up around, that you live with. Neighboring adults are aunts and uncles, and there is a pervading sense of love here that is unlike anyplace I’ve ever been. Family is extended to those living around you.
Generosity here is just breathtaking. I have repeatedly witnessed children as young as 5 in tattered school uniforms go to buy a snack of chips from a street vendor with their only shilling after school—a snack which they then share with their 12 friends, taking only one chip for themselves. I love that. I love that the universal sentiment here is that you get more by giving away and sharing what you have than by keeping it for yourself. I love that I have grown incredibly self-concious of how entirely selfish we Americans are, and through that growing awareness I really feel that I do not want to raise my children within such an individualistic, every-man-for-himself society. Here, you would never chew a piece of gum in front of others unless you had enough to offer a piece to everyone. You would never buy a snack on the street unless you were prepared to buy and share with everyone you are with. And this is not even because doing so would be rude, but because it would not even be enjoyable to eat if others are not eating.
Furthermore I LOVE that the emphasis here is not on things. In fact, I really feel like all the things that we westerners think we “need” really just get in the way of meaningful human interaction. Here the emphasis is not on which new gadget you need, but on relating to the people around you. Children are entertained by playing together, instead of playstation-ing together. Seeing how happy these kids are playing with just sticks makes me reflect on how so much of American childhood is about needing/wanting that new toy that was on TV yesterday. Every child unavoidably whines about how “well mommy Stacy’s mom buys her this,” or “Hannah’s mom let’s her do this,” and, “this toy is mine and no you cannot play with it” etc. etc. (a side note, I’ve never heard a Kenyan child whine.) It just seems that we are so tied up in these comparisions of material “nessecities.” I hate thinking about my child growing up watching TV, playing Nintendo, and campaigining for the new toy its best friend got from Target yesterday Even the most un-materialistic child can’t help but feel a pang of “I really want that” posh new thing that their friend brings to school to show off (instead of share) the next day. Last week I brought Otieno and all the little kids who live by me and Kennedy in Katwakera 2 tennis balls to play with as a gift. These kids have no “things” to play with, so these were quite a hit. I think that in America, fights would have broken out left and right about who got to play with them first etc. But here, they were shared diplomatically among like 20 kids. Being here I have realize how much happier I am without all that stuff. How living in Kibera with the bare minimum is liberating, preferable to a pent house and to being surrounded by the egregious consumerism that drives daily life in the states. I love that here people talk to each other to pass the time, as opposed to talking on phones, watching TV, listiening to their ipods, etc. etc. I realize how little you actually need, and how having SO much more than you need or can use actually detracts from your ability to enjoy the simple, sheer joys of life.
I love that children here are not babied, nor coddled but treated as PEOPLE as opposed to as children. Their wisdom is valued, along with their honesty. They are given responsibilities. They are expected to participate, and as such their thoughts and opionios are listened to. They look after their little siblings, babies are not treated as if they are breakable, and as such children here are mature beyond their years.
One other very important thing to me about Kenyan culture is how accepting it is. People here are taken at face value. So kids don’t try to conform, to blend in. I was explaining to Kennedy how horrible kids are to one another in middle school (for example) in the states (and how this is basically a universal phonemonon) and he was in shock. That kind of alienation, of purposeful exclusivity just does not happen here. Really. And if it did—well it would be so abnormal that it would be dealt with ASAP—but I truly can’t imagine that even being an issue. I NEVER want my child to be exposed to the kinds of social manipulations and menacing that occurs in American society, and that we allow and acknowledge as NORMAL. Here there are no loners, no outcasts, no child sits alone at lunch—just none of the teenage manipulative bullshit that is unavoidable in the states. I never want my child to feel that something is wrong with them, to question if they are loveable. I want them to be surrounded by acceptance wherever they go. I refuse to put them in situations (like um, SCHOOL, in America) where this simply will not be the case. I think that the difference ihere n the socialization of children, the respect that they show one another (and their parents by the way—I asked about teenage-parent relationships and while of course there are rocks in any parent/child relationship, I was told that kids just really respect all that their parents do for them, they appreciate all the sacrifieces they make so such dynamics are not common or tolerated here) makes it so that kids grow up feeling accepted. Because they are. It’s as simple as that. You can be different, you can be yourself. And that’s fine. That’s just expected. You aren’t viewed strangely, you are just acknowledged. I so want my children to feel that. To grow up without pressures to change or conform or present themself in a different way. I want them to live feeling okay with themselves because they are have never been given reason to think otherwise by their community, or especially by their peers.
I don’t think that any of these problematic traits within American culture are really the fault of parents, or can even be mitigated by “good” parenting. I think that such dependency on stuff, such meanness between children, selfishness, immaturity etc. is just entirely entrenched within our culture, and therefore to raise children who do not face these issues, they must be brought up outside of the US.
Ultimately, I want my kids to know the elation brought by simplicity. I want them to appreciate real, human joys. To feel these. To know what is important. To know, love and appreciate themselves BECAUSE they are known, loved and appreciated by those around them. No matter what. I want them to feel the embrace of a community, to feel that their family is bigger than those that they share blood with. Mostly, I want them to grow up thinking of others before themselves. And sadly, I don’t think that any of this is possible within The United States of America.
First of all, a child here is not just the child of the parents, but of the entire community. They are looked after, scolded, cared for, held, played with, and loved by everyone. Babies are passed around from neighbors to neighbors. The terms “brother,” and “sister,” do not just refer to biological siblings but to those friends and playmates that you grow up around, that you live with. Neighboring adults are aunts and uncles, and there is a pervading sense of love here that is unlike anyplace I’ve ever been. Family is extended to those living around you.
Generosity here is just breathtaking. I have repeatedly witnessed children as young as 5 in tattered school uniforms go to buy a snack of chips from a street vendor with their only shilling after school—a snack which they then share with their 12 friends, taking only one chip for themselves. I love that. I love that the universal sentiment here is that you get more by giving away and sharing what you have than by keeping it for yourself. I love that I have grown incredibly self-concious of how entirely selfish we Americans are, and through that growing awareness I really feel that I do not want to raise my children within such an individualistic, every-man-for-himself society. Here, you would never chew a piece of gum in front of others unless you had enough to offer a piece to everyone. You would never buy a snack on the street unless you were prepared to buy and share with everyone you are with. And this is not even because doing so would be rude, but because it would not even be enjoyable to eat if others are not eating.
Furthermore I LOVE that the emphasis here is not on things. In fact, I really feel like all the things that we westerners think we “need” really just get in the way of meaningful human interaction. Here the emphasis is not on which new gadget you need, but on relating to the people around you. Children are entertained by playing together, instead of playstation-ing together. Seeing how happy these kids are playing with just sticks makes me reflect on how so much of American childhood is about needing/wanting that new toy that was on TV yesterday. Every child unavoidably whines about how “well mommy Stacy’s mom buys her this,” or “Hannah’s mom let’s her do this,” and, “this toy is mine and no you cannot play with it” etc. etc. (a side note, I’ve never heard a Kenyan child whine.) It just seems that we are so tied up in these comparisions of material “nessecities.” I hate thinking about my child growing up watching TV, playing Nintendo, and campaigining for the new toy its best friend got from Target yesterday Even the most un-materialistic child can’t help but feel a pang of “I really want that” posh new thing that their friend brings to school to show off (instead of share) the next day. Last week I brought Otieno and all the little kids who live by me and Kennedy in Katwakera 2 tennis balls to play with as a gift. These kids have no “things” to play with, so these were quite a hit. I think that in America, fights would have broken out left and right about who got to play with them first etc. But here, they were shared diplomatically among like 20 kids. Being here I have realize how much happier I am without all that stuff. How living in Kibera with the bare minimum is liberating, preferable to a pent house and to being surrounded by the egregious consumerism that drives daily life in the states. I love that here people talk to each other to pass the time, as opposed to talking on phones, watching TV, listiening to their ipods, etc. etc. I realize how little you actually need, and how having SO much more than you need or can use actually detracts from your ability to enjoy the simple, sheer joys of life.
I love that children here are not babied, nor coddled but treated as PEOPLE as opposed to as children. Their wisdom is valued, along with their honesty. They are given responsibilities. They are expected to participate, and as such their thoughts and opionios are listened to. They look after their little siblings, babies are not treated as if they are breakable, and as such children here are mature beyond their years.
One other very important thing to me about Kenyan culture is how accepting it is. People here are taken at face value. So kids don’t try to conform, to blend in. I was explaining to Kennedy how horrible kids are to one another in middle school (for example) in the states (and how this is basically a universal phonemonon) and he was in shock. That kind of alienation, of purposeful exclusivity just does not happen here. Really. And if it did—well it would be so abnormal that it would be dealt with ASAP—but I truly can’t imagine that even being an issue. I NEVER want my child to be exposed to the kinds of social manipulations and menacing that occurs in American society, and that we allow and acknowledge as NORMAL. Here there are no loners, no outcasts, no child sits alone at lunch—just none of the teenage manipulative bullshit that is unavoidable in the states. I never want my child to feel that something is wrong with them, to question if they are loveable. I want them to be surrounded by acceptance wherever they go. I refuse to put them in situations (like um, SCHOOL, in America) where this simply will not be the case. I think that the difference ihere n the socialization of children, the respect that they show one another (and their parents by the way—I asked about teenage-parent relationships and while of course there are rocks in any parent/child relationship, I was told that kids just really respect all that their parents do for them, they appreciate all the sacrifieces they make so such dynamics are not common or tolerated here) makes it so that kids grow up feeling accepted. Because they are. It’s as simple as that. You can be different, you can be yourself. And that’s fine. That’s just expected. You aren’t viewed strangely, you are just acknowledged. I so want my children to feel that. To grow up without pressures to change or conform or present themself in a different way. I want them to live feeling okay with themselves because they are have never been given reason to think otherwise by their community, or especially by their peers.
I don’t think that any of these problematic traits within American culture are really the fault of parents, or can even be mitigated by “good” parenting. I think that such dependency on stuff, such meanness between children, selfishness, immaturity etc. is just entirely entrenched within our culture, and therefore to raise children who do not face these issues, they must be brought up outside of the US.
Ultimately, I want my kids to know the elation brought by simplicity. I want them to appreciate real, human joys. To feel these. To know what is important. To know, love and appreciate themselves BECAUSE they are known, loved and appreciated by those around them. No matter what. I want them to feel the embrace of a community, to feel that their family is bigger than those that they share blood with. Mostly, I want them to grow up thinking of others before themselves. And sadly, I don’t think that any of this is possible within The United States of America.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
sorry for the lapse
hey all,
sorry to be a bit MIA. I have maleria, which has been treated and so I am feeling a lot better, but haven't been at a computer.
definately on the mend so not to worry. i'll post more about it all later, but just know that africa is the best place to have it as they know how to treat it, and Nairobi hospital where i was admitted for 2 days is the BEST tropical disease hospt. in the WORLD. they are taking good care of me, although i am glad to be out! Mama Rose is also giving me the BEST care along with Kennedy. My doctor is really good too, and ach day I feel better. As we say here, pole pole ndio muendo, good things heal slowly. But I am healing! Okay now I---have to go get some test results...just didn;t want yall to think I had disappeared.
sorry to be a bit MIA. I have maleria, which has been treated and so I am feeling a lot better, but haven't been at a computer.
definately on the mend so not to worry. i'll post more about it all later, but just know that africa is the best place to have it as they know how to treat it, and Nairobi hospital where i was admitted for 2 days is the BEST tropical disease hospt. in the WORLD. they are taking good care of me, although i am glad to be out! Mama Rose is also giving me the BEST care along with Kennedy. My doctor is really good too, and ach day I feel better. As we say here, pole pole ndio muendo, good things heal slowly. But I am healing! Okay now I---have to go get some test results...just didn;t want yall to think I had disappeared.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Plea!
Hi All!
I still REALLY need more material. Especially scenes/good material for boys, but anything you have will mean the world!
Thank you!
jess
I still REALLY need more material. Especially scenes/good material for boys, but anything you have will mean the world!
Thank you!
jess
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