It has been three months (to the day) and my plane flight carrying me back to New York is approaching swiftly.
It leaves me with a feeling similiar to what must be in the atmosphere when two galaxies collide. Turmoil, anguish, exaltation, reflection, anxiety. Happiness? I don't know. In the same moments that I miss my dear ones and the familiarity our communication provides, I fear such a drastic shift to the system like returning to familiarity after basking for so long in the extremely estranged enviros around here.
No one stares at anything in New York. That is all they do here. Maybe I will die from lack of unknown sustenance from the prolonged gazes that I detest because they make me so uncomfortable. Maybe I will choke on all of the individualized competition oozing through the cracks and lubricating the grinding wheels of New Yorks heart beat. Or maybe I will say a joyful farewell to the unplanned, non-punctual, and all happenings forever up-in-the-air existence of my (sometimes) quaint surroundings.
Who knows? Not I.
How did I put it the other day? It is like catapulting yourself into different environments that shock your system into spaces or forced learning and growth. It is uncomfortable and distressing, but exhuberant and absolutely life-changing.
And I love it.
Currently I am painting a picture of the two galaxies in Canis that are 'colliding' or as I like to put it, dancing. Some form of cosmic love-making. Torrid and violent and full of grace.
The image is indicative for more reasons than one.
Because that's what it is isn't it? A delicate concoction of brutality and divinity. Not too much of either, because they both have conflict in this land.
I have heard the phrase 'life-changing experience' before but have never really given it much thought, no basis of comparison.
But I can say - that I have a frame of reference now.
And its after-effects I have still to absorb for a long time coming.
All I know is that I am not leaving any piece of this world behind me. It has been kind enough to allow me to carry it in my cells, teaching me realities so radically different from what I think of as my own, and whispering its secrets subtly along the way.
Thank you everyone, for not only making this journey (or 'safari' in Swahili) possible - but fro coming along with me. It truly has given me strength.
I will see you soon.
Love,
Chelsea
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
The Politics of Giving
The Twa are 1% of the population in Rwanda, they are marginalized and extremely poor. I have heard they are also referred to as Pygmies in the Congo. A friend of mine went to a Twa village and carried a bottle of water with her. (note: do not carry water in rural poverty stricken areas unless you want to break your own heart) And, of course, children surrounded her asking for the water, as it is very scarce in their area.
She was about to hand it to a child when she thought better to ask the general practitioner there what he thought. He replied, "Please don't give out your water unless you have 150 bottles to give all the children."
This situation just hints at the politics involved with coming from a more powerful economy and the power dynamics which ensue.
No one wants to walk by a child telling you he is hungry in the only English words he knows, but after awhile a feeling washes over you of helplessness and the numbers overwhelm you. Sustainable development in the 'global south' battles with these scenarios all of the time. How to you instill self-suficient means and dignity to previously impovershed numbers of human beings?
I experienced an accute situation along these lines in the central province of Kenya recently. I was in Nyeri, Kenya (where one day I wore shorts and I thought people were going to keel over staring at my white legs-they had never seen them before) and I walked by a group of obviously homeless children sniffing glue out in the open with men in business suits passing by.
I had read about this veracious phenomenon before, as it is present in many countries-even the U.S., but I had never seen it. Glue supresses hunger, gives the user a high, and damages the brain after habitual use (it is highly addictive) beyond recovery.
These children were not hiding. They were accepted in society as a facet of it. Many times I heard locals implying blame onto the children for the predicament they were in. They are lazy or they have options but don't want to follow the rules. The same mindset that many Americans have about welfare or homelessness. I wish it were that easy, unfortunately life's situations and the people who live them are much messier and more complicated than that.
And do lazy people deserve to go hugry, exist in flithy conditions, and encounter massive amounts of indifference to their condition all around them? Harsh penalties, birthed from the 'pull-yourself-up-from-the-boot-straps mentality. Something is eskqew here.
So, upon seeing me, the surrounded me and started walking with me telling me they were hungry. After three months of being called 'white-person' (muzungu in Swahili) from every corner of the street and being approached by street people (children,women with babies, ect.) every day you become de-sensitized. Not that I feel it less but I don't respond as often. I can't. It is not humanly possible.
But I did not ignore these kids. You can smell the glue on them even when they don't have any. I started telling them their brains will not recover from the damage of the glue. And then I decided, for the price of $2.50 to buy them a bag of things they could eat easily and on the street. Bread, butter, biscuits, orange juice, popcorn. When I came out of the store older homeless kids were around (adolescence). This prented a danger to the 7,8, and 9 year olds I wanted to give the food to. The older ones would rob and possibly hurt them. I had to split it between the two groups and the most striking thing was how the older kids grabbed my hand out to them. They went from conversing with me to desperate quick grabbing frenzied movements when bread was in front of them.
It is enough to stop your heart from the reality of their existence.
I don't know how it turned out, I did confinscate one bottle of glue, but that doesn't even make a dent.
During this scene, locals were staring on kind of mocking and there was me, representing the white aid hand out giver. How do you sort these things out? How do I when I spend more money putting minutes onto my cellular phone here than I fed those children with?
If you know how to absorb these realities let me know.
Best,
Chelsea
She was about to hand it to a child when she thought better to ask the general practitioner there what he thought. He replied, "Please don't give out your water unless you have 150 bottles to give all the children."
This situation just hints at the politics involved with coming from a more powerful economy and the power dynamics which ensue.
No one wants to walk by a child telling you he is hungry in the only English words he knows, but after awhile a feeling washes over you of helplessness and the numbers overwhelm you. Sustainable development in the 'global south' battles with these scenarios all of the time. How to you instill self-suficient means and dignity to previously impovershed numbers of human beings?
I experienced an accute situation along these lines in the central province of Kenya recently. I was in Nyeri, Kenya (where one day I wore shorts and I thought people were going to keel over staring at my white legs-they had never seen them before) and I walked by a group of obviously homeless children sniffing glue out in the open with men in business suits passing by.
I had read about this veracious phenomenon before, as it is present in many countries-even the U.S., but I had never seen it. Glue supresses hunger, gives the user a high, and damages the brain after habitual use (it is highly addictive) beyond recovery.
These children were not hiding. They were accepted in society as a facet of it. Many times I heard locals implying blame onto the children for the predicament they were in. They are lazy or they have options but don't want to follow the rules. The same mindset that many Americans have about welfare or homelessness. I wish it were that easy, unfortunately life's situations and the people who live them are much messier and more complicated than that.
And do lazy people deserve to go hugry, exist in flithy conditions, and encounter massive amounts of indifference to their condition all around them? Harsh penalties, birthed from the 'pull-yourself-up-from-the-boot-straps mentality. Something is eskqew here.
So, upon seeing me, the surrounded me and started walking with me telling me they were hungry. After three months of being called 'white-person' (muzungu in Swahili) from every corner of the street and being approached by street people (children,women with babies, ect.) every day you become de-sensitized. Not that I feel it less but I don't respond as often. I can't. It is not humanly possible.
But I did not ignore these kids. You can smell the glue on them even when they don't have any. I started telling them their brains will not recover from the damage of the glue. And then I decided, for the price of $2.50 to buy them a bag of things they could eat easily and on the street. Bread, butter, biscuits, orange juice, popcorn. When I came out of the store older homeless kids were around (adolescence). This prented a danger to the 7,8, and 9 year olds I wanted to give the food to. The older ones would rob and possibly hurt them. I had to split it between the two groups and the most striking thing was how the older kids grabbed my hand out to them. They went from conversing with me to desperate quick grabbing frenzied movements when bread was in front of them.
It is enough to stop your heart from the reality of their existence.
I don't know how it turned out, I did confinscate one bottle of glue, but that doesn't even make a dent.
During this scene, locals were staring on kind of mocking and there was me, representing the white aid hand out giver. How do you sort these things out? How do I when I spend more money putting minutes onto my cellular phone here than I fed those children with?
If you know how to absorb these realities let me know.
Best,
Chelsea
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