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
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I have been traversing national borders again
Back in Kenya. My program ended in Rwanda and I must admit I was on the first bus out. The country is beautiful but very intense, like most beauty. I don't know how to summarize the experience there because I am still processing. It will take it's own time.
Thank you for reading.
I feel like I am starting all over again. I have one month left on my trip and needless to say, I am exhausted from going full force since last semester in January. I am taking my rest and I have the opportunity to still learn all around me in the new environments I find everywhere here.
Lately Kenya had been immersed in debates on how to deal with the post-election violence of 2007. Where around 2,000 people lost their lives after results were shown to have reelected the previous President. Just now the country is deciding whether to prosecute internationally the instigators of violence or to have truth and justice commissions, who take a non-punitive approach to justice and reconciliation. These issues are very close to the things I have been studying and writing about all summer. Everyday I read the paper full of conflicting opinions about moving forward after large scale violence. Moving forward objectively and subjectively.
Hard questions and I flip-flop between the different approaches often. But moreso I ponder whether we can ever have a clear notion of what justice ever really is.
But I wanted to write you about the camle I saw last night!
It was amazing. I am currently with my friend from Lamu (the island I wrote about) in his Gikuyu village visiting his mother while we both take well deserved breaks from school and work.
So last night we were in a restaurant and I went downstairs to find Murrey's mother and there was a huge camel chillin' in the streets of Nyeri, where we are!
I am writing about it because I was seriously enraptured. And my reaction and experience with it makes me smile. I love life stuff like that. I just wondered up to it and started petting it. His owner was very nice and gave me four mangoes to feed it. It was amazing. That camel, I don't know if they all are, was seriously a zen creature. He was just being. I'm serious!! Anyway it was awesome, and I eventually found Murrey's mom who is amazing and cute and watches WWF saying "Owwwww" and "powwww" all the time. It is like I have stepped into a comic book, that has really good food.
So rest assured I have been sucessful in my studies and programs here. And more importantly I have had experiences that are lifechanging and made connections with people that are extremely special, from me to them and them to me.
But the blogs aren't stopping!
I have one more month here, and there is so much I am inspired to write about. More pictures to come too. Murrey and I will be traveling across Kenya again back to his island town of Lamu where I will be practicing my Swahili.
More to come.
Love,
Chelsea
Thank you for reading.
I feel like I am starting all over again. I have one month left on my trip and needless to say, I am exhausted from going full force since last semester in January. I am taking my rest and I have the opportunity to still learn all around me in the new environments I find everywhere here.
Lately Kenya had been immersed in debates on how to deal with the post-election violence of 2007. Where around 2,000 people lost their lives after results were shown to have reelected the previous President. Just now the country is deciding whether to prosecute internationally the instigators of violence or to have truth and justice commissions, who take a non-punitive approach to justice and reconciliation. These issues are very close to the things I have been studying and writing about all summer. Everyday I read the paper full of conflicting opinions about moving forward after large scale violence. Moving forward objectively and subjectively.
Hard questions and I flip-flop between the different approaches often. But moreso I ponder whether we can ever have a clear notion of what justice ever really is.
But I wanted to write you about the camle I saw last night!
It was amazing. I am currently with my friend from Lamu (the island I wrote about) in his Gikuyu village visiting his mother while we both take well deserved breaks from school and work.
So last night we were in a restaurant and I went downstairs to find Murrey's mother and there was a huge camel chillin' in the streets of Nyeri, where we are!
I am writing about it because I was seriously enraptured. And my reaction and experience with it makes me smile. I love life stuff like that. I just wondered up to it and started petting it. His owner was very nice and gave me four mangoes to feed it. It was amazing. That camel, I don't know if they all are, was seriously a zen creature. He was just being. I'm serious!! Anyway it was awesome, and I eventually found Murrey's mom who is amazing and cute and watches WWF saying "Owwwww" and "powwww" all the time. It is like I have stepped into a comic book, that has really good food.
So rest assured I have been sucessful in my studies and programs here. And more importantly I have had experiences that are lifechanging and made connections with people that are extremely special, from me to them and them to me.
But the blogs aren't stopping!
I have one more month here, and there is so much I am inspired to write about. More pictures to come too. Murrey and I will be traveling across Kenya again back to his island town of Lamu where I will be practicing my Swahili.
More to come.
Love,
Chelsea
Saturday, July 18, 2009
I Have Been Hesitating to Write
Because it is so hard. Not to write, but to emotionally internalize what I have been experiencing here. I knew I was coming to a post-genocide environment, but to read those words or to conceptually know that reality is absolutely different from physically being immersed in that space. And in the same moment, Rwanda is so much more than the genocide that took place here. I would never want to reinforce the singular association the world places it in.
I have been sad/irritated for two weeks, and during those interworkings of myself I knew it was due to being overwhelmed by the tragedy you have to interpret, if you have eyes or heart open at all, when you are introduced to this place.
I was (of course) beating myself up about feeling these ways and not eminating a positive sheen, but then I met an incredible woman here who told me the wisest thing. She said you must go through this process, really feel it, to get to a position where you can be proactive in positive change inside the blanket of this reality, whatever characteristics it provides. It made me fel better and take it easy on myself to be in this environment and so upset.
I am finally seeing through to some of the purpose of my interpersonal reactions to this place.
I mean, to tell street children on a daily basis that, no, I won't give them money is enough to break someone like myselves spirit. But then layer it with a nostalgia encased atmosphere of loss and trauma lurking behind everyones vision and experience. It is quite un-understandable.
And the immense feeling of helplessness to change anything I see here at this point, takes another jab at me. But in the same moments fortifies a conviction that, I am so thankful and belssed to say, burns like a ragin fire inside of me. It is there, and I have so much gratitude for it. Anyone of you who have known or seen a glimpse of the inside of me will be familiar with tis flame. That's why you read isn't it? And it is why I write, to actively (reader and writer) observe how the flame take to the Rwandan wind.
I wasn't sure how the elements were meeting and that is why I hesitated to write.
I went to another memorial site that was immensly upsetting. My stomach starts hurting everytime I am face to face with the close history of the genocide. It was a church where a smaller town's community fled while hiding from the genocidaires. 10,000 people were killed in brutal and torturous ways at this site with only 7 survivors. One of the 7 gave us the tour of the church. He must have been around 20 and had worked there for two years.
I can't imagine that reality placed in someone's daily life. Brutal, brutal killings that I won't go into here. But, as part of my research assistant work for a professor at Columbia I have documented all of the extensive information about the first memorial site I told you about and if anyone is interested in those readings I will post them here.
Skulls and bones lined the memorial catacombs, you could see machete cut fractures in the skulls and bullet holes. Priests were often in collaboration with the killers and would baptise people before sending them to death. I don't even want to write this stuff to you and expose you to it, but the only saving grace I have had, in this sea of feeling helpless is that if I can reach your ears in some form of information dissemination and advocacy for victims of violence then it is not in vain.
One day I will do more.
Villages that used to stand are no more as there are no remaining citizens from there left alive. People hid in marshes, scavenging for food at night.
And amongst these stories the opposite exists. Stories of people digging trenches to hide the hunted in and concealing the patch of earth by planting sweet potatoes on top. Or hiding 400 orphans, who had standing room only with their arms crossed in front of them, and bringing them food hidden in waste bins.
What can you make of all this? How do you organize these events in your mind and emotional body? I would like to hear some of your thoughts.
But for now I need some new shoes. In places like this, even a frivolous thing like that inflicts guilt upon my consciousness of having more than others and of wanting comforts.
Just another thing to sort out.
I am touched that you are engaged wityh me through reading my experiences.
Notice that Peace When it is With You,
Chelsea
I have been sad/irritated for two weeks, and during those interworkings of myself I knew it was due to being overwhelmed by the tragedy you have to interpret, if you have eyes or heart open at all, when you are introduced to this place.
I was (of course) beating myself up about feeling these ways and not eminating a positive sheen, but then I met an incredible woman here who told me the wisest thing. She said you must go through this process, really feel it, to get to a position where you can be proactive in positive change inside the blanket of this reality, whatever characteristics it provides. It made me fel better and take it easy on myself to be in this environment and so upset.
I am finally seeing through to some of the purpose of my interpersonal reactions to this place.
I mean, to tell street children on a daily basis that, no, I won't give them money is enough to break someone like myselves spirit. But then layer it with a nostalgia encased atmosphere of loss and trauma lurking behind everyones vision and experience. It is quite un-understandable.
And the immense feeling of helplessness to change anything I see here at this point, takes another jab at me. But in the same moments fortifies a conviction that, I am so thankful and belssed to say, burns like a ragin fire inside of me. It is there, and I have so much gratitude for it. Anyone of you who have known or seen a glimpse of the inside of me will be familiar with tis flame. That's why you read isn't it? And it is why I write, to actively (reader and writer) observe how the flame take to the Rwandan wind.
I wasn't sure how the elements were meeting and that is why I hesitated to write.
I went to another memorial site that was immensly upsetting. My stomach starts hurting everytime I am face to face with the close history of the genocide. It was a church where a smaller town's community fled while hiding from the genocidaires. 10,000 people were killed in brutal and torturous ways at this site with only 7 survivors. One of the 7 gave us the tour of the church. He must have been around 20 and had worked there for two years.
I can't imagine that reality placed in someone's daily life. Brutal, brutal killings that I won't go into here. But, as part of my research assistant work for a professor at Columbia I have documented all of the extensive information about the first memorial site I told you about and if anyone is interested in those readings I will post them here.
Skulls and bones lined the memorial catacombs, you could see machete cut fractures in the skulls and bullet holes. Priests were often in collaboration with the killers and would baptise people before sending them to death. I don't even want to write this stuff to you and expose you to it, but the only saving grace I have had, in this sea of feeling helpless is that if I can reach your ears in some form of information dissemination and advocacy for victims of violence then it is not in vain.
One day I will do more.
Villages that used to stand are no more as there are no remaining citizens from there left alive. People hid in marshes, scavenging for food at night.
And amongst these stories the opposite exists. Stories of people digging trenches to hide the hunted in and concealing the patch of earth by planting sweet potatoes on top. Or hiding 400 orphans, who had standing room only with their arms crossed in front of them, and bringing them food hidden in waste bins.
What can you make of all this? How do you organize these events in your mind and emotional body? I would like to hear some of your thoughts.
But for now I need some new shoes. In places like this, even a frivolous thing like that inflicts guilt upon my consciousness of having more than others and of wanting comforts.
Just another thing to sort out.
I am touched that you are engaged wityh me through reading my experiences.
Notice that Peace When it is With You,
Chelsea
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Make sure you look at the older posts icon, there are pics and writing on the next page too....
Where were we? I was getting onto a bus at 6 in the morning for Rwanda. Ok, bumpy ride and red dust paved the path. It is rumored that the zebras are red and black here, genetics or dirt source, is currently unknown by me.
I arrived in the capital city of Kigali, Rwanda on the 27th of June. I was shocked to see order and cleanliness abound. This city blew Kampala and Nairobi out of the water in those regards. Unbelievable, eery, order here. Needless to say, I find the most charm in the bustling streets of Kampala. I have thus decided this place is a mix between A Wrinkle in Time (you know that part where they go to the other planet and all the kids bounce the balls at the same time) with a dash of 1984 thrown into the mix. So those are descriptions of my impressions.....
But moving on, I met the members of the youth delegation I would be doing the human rights training with and we spent a week with other Rwandese youth studying human rights and making a site visit to a rural area where land disputes are mediated through the organization I am volunteering with, The Center for Information and Social Mobilization. Land allocation is a huge issue here, and all over the world, in part due to subsistence living being the main mode of survival for many people.
During our course we had the opportunity to meet with various human rights organizations from the grass roots NGO level to the governmental department of the Commission of Human Rights. While meeting there I found out that their organization, being affiliated with the government, has certain judicial powers other human rights organizations can only dream of. Like entering places of investigation for abuses unnanounced, and requesting interviews with suspected offenders. Interesting stuff. Although to note, there is a marked difference between a human rights organization funded by the government and one that is not. I will let you decipher that one.
Warning: I am going to talk about the genocide a little and the memorial center in Kigali and it is heavy stuff.....
So one of our first visits was to the Gizozi Genocide Memorial Center in Kigali. Where I will be returning to to do some extensive reseach assistant work for my professor from Kenya. The memorial center has a flame lit from April to June to mark the three months that the genocide took place. Part of their project is to rebury victims of the genocide in collective burial sites at the grounds of the memorial. So bones from all over the country are exhumed from the sites where they were literally dumped during the genocide, and given a proper burial at the memorial site. Some bodies on the bottom of these massive dumping sites where so compacted that they still have skin intact 15 years after the genocide.
The reburial sites are so long I could really contextualize the massive extent of the atrocity but currently about 250,000 people have been reburied there. Barely 1/4 of the casualities which occured in 1994.
Actual clothes and graphic pictures line the walls inside of the memorial. There is also an extensive history from colonial times until the present mapping the roots of divisionism in the country. For those that don't know, one theory about the tensions in Rwandese societyis that the colonial powers issued 'identity cards' distinguishing the Hutu and Tutsi and allocating different levels of priviledge within the society. The original colonizers beleived the Tutsi were superior the the Hutu, thinking they were decendants from a white figure from the bible, you could look up more about this it is called the Hamitic Hypothesis.
Anyway, the memorial dedicated an entire room to the thousands of children who were murdered in the genocide and in those moments I started to believe that the devil exists. You leave with a sick feeling in your stomach at the magnitude of the unimaginable. How do you make sense out of the unbelievable, how do you organize your conscience around a reality of massive violence extremely beyond your frame of reference? That is where the sick stomach feeling comes from.
Our guest house is near the oldest church in Kigali where hundreds of people tried to seek shelter during the genocide and it is thought that the priests would pick certain people out of the crowd, Tutsi, claiming they had safe hiding places for them only to send them outside the church to be hacked to death by machetes; the main weapon used in the genocide. I will be visiting the infamous Hotel Rwanda soon to see the pool, where people swim today, where the survivors survived by drinking the water from.
Many of the Rwandese delegates in our human rights program lost all or some of their family members. Pictures on their cells phones include their current boyfriends maybe followed by a picture of the bones of their parents.
I don't bring it up with them, if it comes into a conversation naturally I will engage in a discussion with them about it. I don't want to treat them like objects of study. Fascination of the abomination, as my teacher at Columbia would put it. I a minterested in being human beings with them.
So this place and time of my travels has been the most challenging, for more reasons than the collective trauma that blankets this beautiful country.
Be Well,
Chelsea
I arrived in the capital city of Kigali, Rwanda on the 27th of June. I was shocked to see order and cleanliness abound. This city blew Kampala and Nairobi out of the water in those regards. Unbelievable, eery, order here. Needless to say, I find the most charm in the bustling streets of Kampala. I have thus decided this place is a mix between A Wrinkle in Time (you know that part where they go to the other planet and all the kids bounce the balls at the same time) with a dash of 1984 thrown into the mix. So those are descriptions of my impressions.....
But moving on, I met the members of the youth delegation I would be doing the human rights training with and we spent a week with other Rwandese youth studying human rights and making a site visit to a rural area where land disputes are mediated through the organization I am volunteering with, The Center for Information and Social Mobilization. Land allocation is a huge issue here, and all over the world, in part due to subsistence living being the main mode of survival for many people.
During our course we had the opportunity to meet with various human rights organizations from the grass roots NGO level to the governmental department of the Commission of Human Rights. While meeting there I found out that their organization, being affiliated with the government, has certain judicial powers other human rights organizations can only dream of. Like entering places of investigation for abuses unnanounced, and requesting interviews with suspected offenders. Interesting stuff. Although to note, there is a marked difference between a human rights organization funded by the government and one that is not. I will let you decipher that one.
Warning: I am going to talk about the genocide a little and the memorial center in Kigali and it is heavy stuff.....
So one of our first visits was to the Gizozi Genocide Memorial Center in Kigali. Where I will be returning to to do some extensive reseach assistant work for my professor from Kenya. The memorial center has a flame lit from April to June to mark the three months that the genocide took place. Part of their project is to rebury victims of the genocide in collective burial sites at the grounds of the memorial. So bones from all over the country are exhumed from the sites where they were literally dumped during the genocide, and given a proper burial at the memorial site. Some bodies on the bottom of these massive dumping sites where so compacted that they still have skin intact 15 years after the genocide.
The reburial sites are so long I could really contextualize the massive extent of the atrocity but currently about 250,000 people have been reburied there. Barely 1/4 of the casualities which occured in 1994.
Actual clothes and graphic pictures line the walls inside of the memorial. There is also an extensive history from colonial times until the present mapping the roots of divisionism in the country. For those that don't know, one theory about the tensions in Rwandese societyis that the colonial powers issued 'identity cards' distinguishing the Hutu and Tutsi and allocating different levels of priviledge within the society. The original colonizers beleived the Tutsi were superior the the Hutu, thinking they were decendants from a white figure from the bible, you could look up more about this it is called the Hamitic Hypothesis.
Anyway, the memorial dedicated an entire room to the thousands of children who were murdered in the genocide and in those moments I started to believe that the devil exists. You leave with a sick feeling in your stomach at the magnitude of the unimaginable. How do you make sense out of the unbelievable, how do you organize your conscience around a reality of massive violence extremely beyond your frame of reference? That is where the sick stomach feeling comes from.
Our guest house is near the oldest church in Kigali where hundreds of people tried to seek shelter during the genocide and it is thought that the priests would pick certain people out of the crowd, Tutsi, claiming they had safe hiding places for them only to send them outside the church to be hacked to death by machetes; the main weapon used in the genocide. I will be visiting the infamous Hotel Rwanda soon to see the pool, where people swim today, where the survivors survived by drinking the water from.
Many of the Rwandese delegates in our human rights program lost all or some of their family members. Pictures on their cells phones include their current boyfriends maybe followed by a picture of the bones of their parents.
I don't bring it up with them, if it comes into a conversation naturally I will engage in a discussion with them about it. I don't want to treat them like objects of study. Fascination of the abomination, as my teacher at Columbia would put it. I a minterested in being human beings with them.
So this place and time of my travels has been the most challenging, for more reasons than the collective trauma that blankets this beautiful country.
Be Well,
Chelsea
Miracles at the Border and Into Uganda
Ok, so I left the land of donkeys no sooner than I danced all night on the "floating bar" which sits itself in the middle of the ocean, only reachable by boat or swimsuit. And took the ferry at 6am to the mainland to start on bus extravaganza. I crossed Kenya and my second bus was overnight, I woke up to find the bus stopped because there were fears of thieves in the area who shoot th tires out of nice buses and loot. But alas, there was no problems.
And I forgot to mention the Somalian refugees I met in the northern part of Kenya, where there is the second largest refugee camp in the world, currently at quadruple mass capacity....I did not go there but met some folks along the way.
So I headed from Nairobi to Uganda. I needed to pass through there to get to Rwanda and planned to break up the long trip with a couple of days in the capital city of Kampala. The border crossing was hectic and miraculous...I (after being travel cushioned by the academic program taking care of everything) did NOT do my homework and got a surprise in the dusty border crossing line that I needed 50 dollars in U.S. currency to pass through. Yikes, long story short I held up the bus, almost got severly ripped off by a curreny change guy, and almost got left at the border of Kenya and Uganda. But my bus driver came to the rescue, and somehow I pulled 50 from my account. The thing is is that the inflation rates are insane around here. For example, in Rwanda a cup of tea is 1,000 franks. So conversion is not necessarily my bag so it takes alot to get used to.
But anyway, after some interesting conversations from East Africans on the bus I arrived in the "pearl of Africa" Kampala, Uganda. Which is an insane ball of perfect chaos!!! And I loved it. To my surprise the city of 7 hills (or 6?) like Rome, was amazing. The traffic blows Rio de Janeiro out of the water and speeding amongst all the insanity are these motorcycle taxis names Boda-Bodas.
I decided to spend my nights at a youth hostel (which I think I am growing out of ;( and researched the university library to post up in and do my essay.
Needless to say I was on the boda-bodas with a quickness and loved them. I told myself I must get out of this city because I liked the motorcycles too much.
So I talked the libraries into letting me pay a small fee to use the libraries and during my studies, which I spent all day there, I met intellectuals at the university and had dinner with them after studying all day. It was lovely, very non-touristy experience.
Another highlight of my grief stay in Kampala was contacting a former teaching assistant of mine at Columbia who is doing his dissertation work concerning the alleviation of poverty in Uganda. We had breakfast and he unexpectedly gave me a slew pf advice about my near graduation and pursuit into law school. He gave me contacts of amazing people doing projects such as refugee law and others in Kampala, who I have since contacted and had wonderful conversations with people who are actively doing my dreams.
Then Micheal Jackson died, and EVERY boda-boda driver knew in the whole city!! Through broken english wizzing down the street we would have conversations about the late pop idol.
Priceless.
Then after three nights it was off to Rwanda to start the human rights delegation, which has been VERY interesting!! More to come, love you guys. Thanks so much for reading and your comments, it gives me support here.
And I loaded pics! finally. p.s. they take 30 minutes to load dudes.
Oh and p.s.s....This is a shout out to my lovely world traveling sister....where are you my dear? I miss your words.
Love and Respect,
Chelsea
And I forgot to mention the Somalian refugees I met in the northern part of Kenya, where there is the second largest refugee camp in the world, currently at quadruple mass capacity....I did not go there but met some folks along the way.
So I headed from Nairobi to Uganda. I needed to pass through there to get to Rwanda and planned to break up the long trip with a couple of days in the capital city of Kampala. The border crossing was hectic and miraculous...I (after being travel cushioned by the academic program taking care of everything) did NOT do my homework and got a surprise in the dusty border crossing line that I needed 50 dollars in U.S. currency to pass through. Yikes, long story short I held up the bus, almost got severly ripped off by a curreny change guy, and almost got left at the border of Kenya and Uganda. But my bus driver came to the rescue, and somehow I pulled 50 from my account. The thing is is that the inflation rates are insane around here. For example, in Rwanda a cup of tea is 1,000 franks. So conversion is not necessarily my bag so it takes alot to get used to.
But anyway, after some interesting conversations from East Africans on the bus I arrived in the "pearl of Africa" Kampala, Uganda. Which is an insane ball of perfect chaos!!! And I loved it. To my surprise the city of 7 hills (or 6?) like Rome, was amazing. The traffic blows Rio de Janeiro out of the water and speeding amongst all the insanity are these motorcycle taxis names Boda-Bodas.
I decided to spend my nights at a youth hostel (which I think I am growing out of ;( and researched the university library to post up in and do my essay.
Needless to say I was on the boda-bodas with a quickness and loved them. I told myself I must get out of this city because I liked the motorcycles too much.
So I talked the libraries into letting me pay a small fee to use the libraries and during my studies, which I spent all day there, I met intellectuals at the university and had dinner with them after studying all day. It was lovely, very non-touristy experience.
Another highlight of my grief stay in Kampala was contacting a former teaching assistant of mine at Columbia who is doing his dissertation work concerning the alleviation of poverty in Uganda. We had breakfast and he unexpectedly gave me a slew pf advice about my near graduation and pursuit into law school. He gave me contacts of amazing people doing projects such as refugee law and others in Kampala, who I have since contacted and had wonderful conversations with people who are actively doing my dreams.
Then Micheal Jackson died, and EVERY boda-boda driver knew in the whole city!! Through broken english wizzing down the street we would have conversations about the late pop idol.
Priceless.
Then after three nights it was off to Rwanda to start the human rights delegation, which has been VERY interesting!! More to come, love you guys. Thanks so much for reading and your comments, it gives me support here.
And I loaded pics! finally. p.s. they take 30 minutes to load dudes.
Oh and p.s.s....This is a shout out to my lovely world traveling sister....where are you my dear? I miss your words.
Love and Respect,
Chelsea
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
You haven't LIVED until you have been on a bus for two days!
Sorry for the stint of incognito. In the time lapse, I have left Kenya to delightfully visit Uganda for two days and then into Rwanda (where plastic bags are illegal) and am one week into my human rights training program.
But, to backtrack, because Lamu needs its due description. Craig (who has thus departed back to Canada) and I spent two wonderful weeks amongst 10,000 donkeys and two cars on the island of Lamu. There is a very large Muslim population on the island of Lamu and the call to prayer rings out five times a day. The first couple of days I would wake up still inside of a stupor and wonder if I was in a dream. Then I realized that the first call to prayer in the day was at 4:45am, followed by 6:45am. So, after I internalized that information into the main frame I would habitually wake up one minute before the call to prayer at 4:45am, listen to the call, and then fall back to sleep. Very surreal daily practice to get into.
And as I know about the callers to prayer from studying about it at Columbia, the singers must dedicate a big part of their lives to pronouncing the sacred words correctly.
Many women chose to cover their entire bodies and faces, some covered their bodies and heads, and some covered their bodies alone. And if I was there any longer I think I would start wearing the full face/body garb because woman not covered receive ALOT of attention and it is very tiresome. I met a very interesting western woman who married a Muslim man (non-practicing, I think) and she chose to wear the covering in the Lamu community because she felt you were not respected as a woman if you are not covered.
I found out that Swahili weddings are completely gender segregated and the Muslim woman dress in gold to the 9's and dance with each other all evening. It was also a sign of wealth status previously to have enough clothes to cover yourself as a woman and now-a-days poorer Muslim woman choose to completely cover to show it as a sign of being financially well off. I thought that was a particularly interesting facet of the community.
The Muslim woman also swim in the ocean in their full dress.
The streets of Lamu are narrow and winding, and anytime a donkey passes you must step into someone's doorway to allow the donkey to pass (he is usually carrying a big load).
I met wonderful people and made many friends on Lamu. They taught us how to make ugali, which is a staple Eastern Africa uses instead of a spoon. It's great! It is made from casava or corn meal and after cooking it comes out in the consistency on play-dough. And after a bowl and poured water is brought around to wash everyones hands, you break off and mold pieces of the ugali and use it as a spoon (that you eat with the bite) to pick up the other food like vegetables or meat.
I must apologize because I had a great blog written before this that got erased.....:( So there is more to come, 2 day bus ride, Kampala the capital of Uganda, motorcycles, and human rights. Oh and yesterday I saw the President of Rwanda, Kigame. Crazy.
Thank you for reading, more to come.
Love,
Chelsea
But, to backtrack, because Lamu needs its due description. Craig (who has thus departed back to Canada) and I spent two wonderful weeks amongst 10,000 donkeys and two cars on the island of Lamu. There is a very large Muslim population on the island of Lamu and the call to prayer rings out five times a day. The first couple of days I would wake up still inside of a stupor and wonder if I was in a dream. Then I realized that the first call to prayer in the day was at 4:45am, followed by 6:45am. So, after I internalized that information into the main frame I would habitually wake up one minute before the call to prayer at 4:45am, listen to the call, and then fall back to sleep. Very surreal daily practice to get into.
And as I know about the callers to prayer from studying about it at Columbia, the singers must dedicate a big part of their lives to pronouncing the sacred words correctly.
Many women chose to cover their entire bodies and faces, some covered their bodies and heads, and some covered their bodies alone. And if I was there any longer I think I would start wearing the full face/body garb because woman not covered receive ALOT of attention and it is very tiresome. I met a very interesting western woman who married a Muslim man (non-practicing, I think) and she chose to wear the covering in the Lamu community because she felt you were not respected as a woman if you are not covered.
I found out that Swahili weddings are completely gender segregated and the Muslim woman dress in gold to the 9's and dance with each other all evening. It was also a sign of wealth status previously to have enough clothes to cover yourself as a woman and now-a-days poorer Muslim woman choose to completely cover to show it as a sign of being financially well off. I thought that was a particularly interesting facet of the community.
The Muslim woman also swim in the ocean in their full dress.
The streets of Lamu are narrow and winding, and anytime a donkey passes you must step into someone's doorway to allow the donkey to pass (he is usually carrying a big load).
I met wonderful people and made many friends on Lamu. They taught us how to make ugali, which is a staple Eastern Africa uses instead of a spoon. It's great! It is made from casava or corn meal and after cooking it comes out in the consistency on play-dough. And after a bowl and poured water is brought around to wash everyones hands, you break off and mold pieces of the ugali and use it as a spoon (that you eat with the bite) to pick up the other food like vegetables or meat.
I must apologize because I had a great blog written before this that got erased.....:( So there is more to come, 2 day bus ride, Kampala the capital of Uganda, motorcycles, and human rights. Oh and yesterday I saw the President of Rwanda, Kigame. Crazy.
Thank you for reading, more to come.
Love,
Chelsea
Monday, June 22, 2009
Getting ready for Rwanda...
I feel like I write these notes moving towards the future but about the past. I am currently still in Lamu, my last day here, before moving on to Rwanda via looooong bus ride through Uganda.
Where did I leave off? Male circumcision.....and then female. Many ethnic groups in Kenya and other parts of the world practice female circumcision, also known by the politically weighted term "female genital mutilation: (FGM), and it is considered a human rights issues with the UN in support of ending the practice of FGM as a female right of passage due to the many health complications that arise from the practice. So disclaimer: I am going to talk about the different forms of FGM practiced and what I learned from my time in the Massai Mara around communities who still, although decreasingly, practice FGM.
It is considered a right of passage for woman as well as men to be circumcised into adultood. The health workers we spoke to were rather shy, as is common in Kenyan women, and much of the frank conversation the west is more used to is not common place here. But alas, we had a meeting with two comunity nurses where we were able to speak openly about what alot of us were curious about of a practice which was very foreign to us.
When the time came the class was pretty reserved as well but, of course, I was upfront about questions I had. So the nurses described different variations of FGM that occur. In the olden days a group of women would get together and support the one being circumcisized. As for the older practice, the only description we coulf get was that the surgeon (other community member) "cut to the bone". Whatever that means, I took it as being a pretty severe portion of the vagina being removed. The more contemporary versions that take place are removal of the labia and clitorus, sometimes just the clitorus. There is no antistesia invloved in the procedure and when I asked a woman who had seen two done, she said she never saw the girls cry.
I think it is important to remember that inside of the social systems people in these communities work from, it is a sign of dignity to perform a rite of passage, and without such things (more so in the past) you were stigmatized and unwanted.
After the procedure the woman spends a month alone healing. It is not unheard of for women to die from infectious complications. It is rumored that part of the ceremony is to ensure that the woman will not cheat on her husband if she cannot receive pleasure from sexual activity. How true this is goes without saying.
Some parts of the world do more extreme versions like cutting everything off then sewing the vagina closed, leaving only a small hole for excretion and after childbirth they are sewn back up again. After being cut (with any variation of FGM) scar tissue forms and complicates childbirth. The scars tear causing more probability for infection and increased pain.
At the museum in Nairobi there was a display for the Maasai people and there was a t-shirt amongst the display the stated "Supporting Alternative Initiation Rituals for Women". So there definitely is public initiatives to eradicate and replace the practice but these things are slow. And with the introduction of schooling becoming more popular in rural Kenya it empowers the girls closer towards a position of having a voice to oppose the practice. Although, like I said, it is a point of pride and some girls choose it. They circumcise women around 16 years old. On another note, education is not free and much of the time the cost prohibits poorer families from sending their children to school.
Female circumcision is illegal in Kenya, along with gay marriage, but how do you enforce something like that. And one counter-intuitive repercussion of making it illegal is that now women have to be secretive and subsequently less sterile about the proceedure increasing their personal health risks. It is a hard topic.
Ok, I must go write my final paper! Ahhhh! But then school is done. Keep sending the comments.
All the Best.
Love,
Chelsea
Where did I leave off? Male circumcision.....and then female. Many ethnic groups in Kenya and other parts of the world practice female circumcision, also known by the politically weighted term "female genital mutilation: (FGM), and it is considered a human rights issues with the UN in support of ending the practice of FGM as a female right of passage due to the many health complications that arise from the practice. So disclaimer: I am going to talk about the different forms of FGM practiced and what I learned from my time in the Massai Mara around communities who still, although decreasingly, practice FGM.
It is considered a right of passage for woman as well as men to be circumcised into adultood. The health workers we spoke to were rather shy, as is common in Kenyan women, and much of the frank conversation the west is more used to is not common place here. But alas, we had a meeting with two comunity nurses where we were able to speak openly about what alot of us were curious about of a practice which was very foreign to us.
When the time came the class was pretty reserved as well but, of course, I was upfront about questions I had. So the nurses described different variations of FGM that occur. In the olden days a group of women would get together and support the one being circumcisized. As for the older practice, the only description we coulf get was that the surgeon (other community member) "cut to the bone". Whatever that means, I took it as being a pretty severe portion of the vagina being removed. The more contemporary versions that take place are removal of the labia and clitorus, sometimes just the clitorus. There is no antistesia invloved in the procedure and when I asked a woman who had seen two done, she said she never saw the girls cry.
I think it is important to remember that inside of the social systems people in these communities work from, it is a sign of dignity to perform a rite of passage, and without such things (more so in the past) you were stigmatized and unwanted.
After the procedure the woman spends a month alone healing. It is not unheard of for women to die from infectious complications. It is rumored that part of the ceremony is to ensure that the woman will not cheat on her husband if she cannot receive pleasure from sexual activity. How true this is goes without saying.
Some parts of the world do more extreme versions like cutting everything off then sewing the vagina closed, leaving only a small hole for excretion and after childbirth they are sewn back up again. After being cut (with any variation of FGM) scar tissue forms and complicates childbirth. The scars tear causing more probability for infection and increased pain.
At the museum in Nairobi there was a display for the Maasai people and there was a t-shirt amongst the display the stated "Supporting Alternative Initiation Rituals for Women". So there definitely is public initiatives to eradicate and replace the practice but these things are slow. And with the introduction of schooling becoming more popular in rural Kenya it empowers the girls closer towards a position of having a voice to oppose the practice. Although, like I said, it is a point of pride and some girls choose it. They circumcise women around 16 years old. On another note, education is not free and much of the time the cost prohibits poorer families from sending their children to school.
Female circumcision is illegal in Kenya, along with gay marriage, but how do you enforce something like that. And one counter-intuitive repercussion of making it illegal is that now women have to be secretive and subsequently less sterile about the proceedure increasing their personal health risks. It is a hard topic.
Ok, I must go write my final paper! Ahhhh! But then school is done. Keep sending the comments.
All the Best.
Love,
Chelsea
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Lamu - World Heritage Site
Hello, Lamu Kenya is where Craig and I are staying at the moment. We decided to retreat to this wonderful island to finish our final papers away from the bustle of many other Kenyan cities. I encourage you to look Lamu up on the internet, it's quite an anomaly. No cars, just donkeys (who don't like the rain).
Quick note: I am in an internet cafe on Lamu right now and there are two young Norweigan boys who are always in here playing hours worth of interactive internet games everyday, they make me laugh...
But to back track a bit, the Maasi Mara...southwestern Kenya, home to big game and large ethnic groups who are either pastoralists or small scale agriculturalists. All throughout the academic course we were hosted by a Canadian non-profit organization called Me to We/Free the Children. They build schools and hospitals in rural Kenya and other locations across the globe. So one of their sites is in the Maasi Mara in a community of Kipsigi (sp?) peoples. Kipsigi are small scale farmers whose neighbors surrounding them in the hills are the Maasi people.
While we spent 11 days in the Mara doing our course work and helping build a clinic in the Kipsigi community we had two Maasi guides with us, Peter and Clinton (whose favorite music is Celine Dion to the delite of all the Canadians I was traveling with, Celine is HUGE in Africa-even the rural hills). The Maasi are rather famous globally, they are pastoralists who wear the red blankets as a dress (men and women, a lot of men in Kenya wear skirts) and a delicacy of the Maasi is mixing milk with cows blood. This concoction (sworn up and down by Peter and Clinton to be wonderful) provides them with sufficient calcium and protein.
Note: I have been very hesitant to write to a western audience about the customs of the Maasi or Kipsigi because I fear an instant reaction of judgemet from the readers. I have decided what I feel is ethically within my boundaries to share and I would please ask of you to remember the radical difference in lifestyles, history, and worlds you and the ethnic peoples of Kenya live in. That is not to say that some things are not supposed to stretch you out of your comfort zone, that has been happening to me all this trip, but as you read try to conceptualize it in a space before judgement, floating in wonder instead.
Ok, so milk and blood, other initiation rituals are coming to age processes for men and women. For the men, around 16 the bottom front tooth is removed (with no antestisia) by the father from a method of cutting the gums and pulling the tooth. This practice is meant to mark the member of the tribe as Maasi wherever they go.
Another, and very important ritual, is the male circumsicion which happens around 15-18 years old. After this ritual the boys are considered men and endowed with all of the rights given in manhood. Including taking a wife, sex, and providing for a family. So the circumcision is done without the aid of pain killers, and a clause in the whole thing, is that the boys are not allowed the slightest flinch or wince during the proceedure. If they do they will be austricized from the society indefinetly as cowards and have a hard time taking a wife.
In the past, after the circumsicion ritual the boys-becoming-men left to live in caves where they hunted and killed at least one lion, for three years. Contemporarily I think this practice has lessened somewhat and while both Peter and Clinton (both in early 20's) had killed a lion, with a spear, it is less prevalant than before and the duration in the cave in shorter. But, when the men emerge, they are Maasi warriors ready to start families and raise cattle and goats of their own.
Oh yeah, in preparation for the circumsicion, the young boys will burn themselves with things in order to work up tolerance to pain so thewy do not flinch during the proceedure.
Poligamy is also practiced amongst the Maasi, although it varies from person to person. Many men only have one wife while others have four. We had the opportunity to have candid discussions with our 20 year old warriors and when prompted, both replied they would only want one wife. Peter "Because more than one would be too much trouble." And Clinton "Because he could only share his love with one woman." I will leave it to you to chuckle with that.
The warrior/guides gave us weapons training using their spears and congas (wooden instruments used to finish off the animals) . They also took us on medicinal plant hikes, showing us what plants to use for what. Both men studied biology or environmental science at a neighboring university (another new develoment within their culture).
Interesting note: cattle are considered higher up in the heirarchy than women. Now, I have stated this VERY simply and it is more complex by far, but as is cattle their ABSOLUTE livelyhood in some way, in the past that makes sense.
I am not condoning it, don't freak out :)
Ok, so I bet you have been waiting for the womens story huh?........stay tuned!
I gotta get off this computer!
Please write me a comment, I love them.
Love,
Chelsea
Quick note: I am in an internet cafe on Lamu right now and there are two young Norweigan boys who are always in here playing hours worth of interactive internet games everyday, they make me laugh...
But to back track a bit, the Maasi Mara...southwestern Kenya, home to big game and large ethnic groups who are either pastoralists or small scale agriculturalists. All throughout the academic course we were hosted by a Canadian non-profit organization called Me to We/Free the Children. They build schools and hospitals in rural Kenya and other locations across the globe. So one of their sites is in the Maasi Mara in a community of Kipsigi (sp?) peoples. Kipsigi are small scale farmers whose neighbors surrounding them in the hills are the Maasi people.
While we spent 11 days in the Mara doing our course work and helping build a clinic in the Kipsigi community we had two Maasi guides with us, Peter and Clinton (whose favorite music is Celine Dion to the delite of all the Canadians I was traveling with, Celine is HUGE in Africa-even the rural hills). The Maasi are rather famous globally, they are pastoralists who wear the red blankets as a dress (men and women, a lot of men in Kenya wear skirts) and a delicacy of the Maasi is mixing milk with cows blood. This concoction (sworn up and down by Peter and Clinton to be wonderful) provides them with sufficient calcium and protein.
Note: I have been very hesitant to write to a western audience about the customs of the Maasi or Kipsigi because I fear an instant reaction of judgemet from the readers. I have decided what I feel is ethically within my boundaries to share and I would please ask of you to remember the radical difference in lifestyles, history, and worlds you and the ethnic peoples of Kenya live in. That is not to say that some things are not supposed to stretch you out of your comfort zone, that has been happening to me all this trip, but as you read try to conceptualize it in a space before judgement, floating in wonder instead.
Ok, so milk and blood, other initiation rituals are coming to age processes for men and women. For the men, around 16 the bottom front tooth is removed (with no antestisia) by the father from a method of cutting the gums and pulling the tooth. This practice is meant to mark the member of the tribe as Maasi wherever they go.
Another, and very important ritual, is the male circumsicion which happens around 15-18 years old. After this ritual the boys are considered men and endowed with all of the rights given in manhood. Including taking a wife, sex, and providing for a family. So the circumcision is done without the aid of pain killers, and a clause in the whole thing, is that the boys are not allowed the slightest flinch or wince during the proceedure. If they do they will be austricized from the society indefinetly as cowards and have a hard time taking a wife.
In the past, after the circumsicion ritual the boys-becoming-men left to live in caves where they hunted and killed at least one lion, for three years. Contemporarily I think this practice has lessened somewhat and while both Peter and Clinton (both in early 20's) had killed a lion, with a spear, it is less prevalant than before and the duration in the cave in shorter. But, when the men emerge, they are Maasi warriors ready to start families and raise cattle and goats of their own.
Oh yeah, in preparation for the circumsicion, the young boys will burn themselves with things in order to work up tolerance to pain so thewy do not flinch during the proceedure.
Poligamy is also practiced amongst the Maasi, although it varies from person to person. Many men only have one wife while others have four. We had the opportunity to have candid discussions with our 20 year old warriors and when prompted, both replied they would only want one wife. Peter "Because more than one would be too much trouble." And Clinton "Because he could only share his love with one woman." I will leave it to you to chuckle with that.
The warrior/guides gave us weapons training using their spears and congas (wooden instruments used to finish off the animals) . They also took us on medicinal plant hikes, showing us what plants to use for what. Both men studied biology or environmental science at a neighboring university (another new develoment within their culture).
Interesting note: cattle are considered higher up in the heirarchy than women. Now, I have stated this VERY simply and it is more complex by far, but as is cattle their ABSOLUTE livelyhood in some way, in the past that makes sense.
I am not condoning it, don't freak out :)
Ok, so I bet you have been waiting for the womens story huh?........stay tuned!
I gotta get off this computer!
Please write me a comment, I love them.
Love,
Chelsea
Friday, June 12, 2009
June 12th...
Hello All! I apologize for the long delay between postings. I hope I still have your attention. I don't know where to begin with the last cople of weeks. The weeks were spent finishing the academic program I came to participate in. That included visiting two other spots in Kenya, one the Masi Mara (rural pastorial/agricultural land where indigenous ethnic grops have lived for a longh time) and Mombasa (a coastal town where we concluded our studies).
To catch up a bit, all in all the academic program hosted by the University of Toronto's Peace and Conflict studies institute was an incredible program. Not to mention the group of students and Professor was excellent, we were able to be exposed to so many unique opportunities. We visited and had meeting with employees fom the Institute for Security Studies, the University of Nairobi (where we enjoyed a lecture and conversation afterward with a Kenyan professor and her students, a public lecture hosted by scholars addressing the post-conflict violence of 2007 and how to bring a national peace to a nation divided by ethnic backgrounds (but please don't take that statement a simply as I wrote it, no conflict is simply an "ancient hatred" issue, I don't beleive those even exist). We also visited the International Peace and support training center where they train military personel from all over the world to be peacekeepers deployed by the UN. We were visited by a representative from the Greenbelt Movement which was originally a women empowerment organization that facilitated these objectives through reforestation projects with rural women in Kenya. There is an amazing book about the founder of the Greenbelt Movement called Unbowed that I would recommend to anyone interested. (Breath!) It's so much and I am not even through with our activities yet!
We were also visited by representatives of the Millenium Village Project founded at my alma matta, Columbia University, which is a global economic and sustainable project to eradicate global poverty, you could goolge that too if interested. There's more oh so more. And even with my inadequate rush through description you can understand the notion that, in my eyes, the program was incredibly valuable for my education and future endeavours. In a way it brought my professional dreams into reality, meeting the people who fill those positins already, while it empowered me to believe in myself that I was capable of dong such things.
Well, so the program ended on the 10th of June and I began traveling with a lovely new friend from the program Craig. We both have two weeks to finish our final 15 page papers (which will be interesting with no computers amongst us) and those two weeks are the exact timframe I have between the upcoming human rights program in Rwanda and when Craig returns to Canada. So at present we are traveling up the coast to a town called Lamu (a world cultural heritage site). Lamu is an island with no vehicles and plenty of donkeys to make up for it. \We are looking forward to spending our time there relaxing and finishing our coursework. I am very happy to have a colleague and friend to travel with while getting adjusted to not being couched in the study abroad program for my every need anymore.
Side note: I am going to write a seperate blog about where I stayed in rural Kenya because it was immersed in a community of ethnic groups who practice female circumcision still. I am sorting out how to present this experience to you that is fairly partisan and also respects the privacy of their communities.
On another note, my group helped to build a community clinic for this community by digging a trench to lay the foundation in. That day was very rewarding.
And don't fret! Pictures are coming! (oh yeah I was 20 feet from a lion on our safari) But I must use the internet at public places thaty charge and most are much too slow to upload pics.....I also must prioritize during the next weeks in spending my internet money on research for my paper, ahhhhhhhhh!
All of that said, I am really happy to update you this far AND Craig and I split a cell phone so if anyone is interested they can ring at: 254 710 588 930
Love,
Chelsea
To catch up a bit, all in all the academic program hosted by the University of Toronto's Peace and Conflict studies institute was an incredible program. Not to mention the group of students and Professor was excellent, we were able to be exposed to so many unique opportunities. We visited and had meeting with employees fom the Institute for Security Studies, the University of Nairobi (where we enjoyed a lecture and conversation afterward with a Kenyan professor and her students, a public lecture hosted by scholars addressing the post-conflict violence of 2007 and how to bring a national peace to a nation divided by ethnic backgrounds (but please don't take that statement a simply as I wrote it, no conflict is simply an "ancient hatred" issue, I don't beleive those even exist). We also visited the International Peace and support training center where they train military personel from all over the world to be peacekeepers deployed by the UN. We were visited by a representative from the Greenbelt Movement which was originally a women empowerment organization that facilitated these objectives through reforestation projects with rural women in Kenya. There is an amazing book about the founder of the Greenbelt Movement called Unbowed that I would recommend to anyone interested. (Breath!) It's so much and I am not even through with our activities yet!
We were also visited by representatives of the Millenium Village Project founded at my alma matta, Columbia University, which is a global economic and sustainable project to eradicate global poverty, you could goolge that too if interested. There's more oh so more. And even with my inadequate rush through description you can understand the notion that, in my eyes, the program was incredibly valuable for my education and future endeavours. In a way it brought my professional dreams into reality, meeting the people who fill those positins already, while it empowered me to believe in myself that I was capable of dong such things.
Well, so the program ended on the 10th of June and I began traveling with a lovely new friend from the program Craig. We both have two weeks to finish our final 15 page papers (which will be interesting with no computers amongst us) and those two weeks are the exact timframe I have between the upcoming human rights program in Rwanda and when Craig returns to Canada. So at present we are traveling up the coast to a town called Lamu (a world cultural heritage site). Lamu is an island with no vehicles and plenty of donkeys to make up for it. \We are looking forward to spending our time there relaxing and finishing our coursework. I am very happy to have a colleague and friend to travel with while getting adjusted to not being couched in the study abroad program for my every need anymore.
Side note: I am going to write a seperate blog about where I stayed in rural Kenya because it was immersed in a community of ethnic groups who practice female circumcision still. I am sorting out how to present this experience to you that is fairly partisan and also respects the privacy of their communities.
On another note, my group helped to build a community clinic for this community by digging a trench to lay the foundation in. That day was very rewarding.
And don't fret! Pictures are coming! (oh yeah I was 20 feet from a lion on our safari) But I must use the internet at public places thaty charge and most are much too slow to upload pics.....I also must prioritize during the next weeks in spending my internet money on research for my paper, ahhhhhhhhh!
All of that said, I am really happy to update you this far AND Craig and I split a cell phone so if anyone is interested they can ring at: 254 710 588 930
Love,
Chelsea
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Day Number Five.
Ok, to finish the story of the touristy day, because it is quite excellent...after the elephant orphanage we went to a giraffe rehabilitation center and were able to feed giraffes right out of our hand! (Standing on the sencond story balcony of course!) They are widely known to be very friendly, and good kissers! So all and all it was a lovely introduction to Kenya. The day after we went to the Kenya National Museum, where I saw Lucy! The oldest human remains known to man found here in Kenya in the Rift Valley. The time in the museum I was around a group of Kenyan nuns (there are a lot) and we were in the evolution room and I kept wondering what they must think. I heard a couple of their comments on how beautiful the exhibit was. Other than that I just took a picture of all of them when they asked me.
Since then we have doven dilligently into our studies. We have gone to the Canadian High Commission for a conference with a Canadian diplomat regarding the political situation in Kenya. There, the security guards (minus the regular AK 47) checked all incoming cars with reflective mirrors and dogs for IUDs. And we were very fortunate to experience a meeting with a Canadian diplomat and a Kenyan ambassador.
The program I am doing is based out of a Canadian University so out of 19 in the group I am the only American, this is proving to be very interesting, seeing the different scope of interpretation from the different countries.
Last night we went to an amazing Ethiopian dinner, after I did a presentation for the class during our official school time. We are assigned topics in a debate and must present a case for defending, in this case, different explanations for violent conflict. Before class yesterday we also we able to meet with the Institute for Security Studies who told us about the different problems facing nomadic tribes in Kenya.
And today....we have a FULL day. Which I will tell you all about soon!!!!
Love,
Chelsea
Since then we have doven dilligently into our studies. We have gone to the Canadian High Commission for a conference with a Canadian diplomat regarding the political situation in Kenya. There, the security guards (minus the regular AK 47) checked all incoming cars with reflective mirrors and dogs for IUDs. And we were very fortunate to experience a meeting with a Canadian diplomat and a Kenyan ambassador.
The program I am doing is based out of a Canadian University so out of 19 in the group I am the only American, this is proving to be very interesting, seeing the different scope of interpretation from the different countries.
Last night we went to an amazing Ethiopian dinner, after I did a presentation for the class during our official school time. We are assigned topics in a debate and must present a case for defending, in this case, different explanations for violent conflict. Before class yesterday we also we able to meet with the Institute for Security Studies who told us about the different problems facing nomadic tribes in Kenya.
And today....we have a FULL day. Which I will tell you all about soon!!!!
Love,
Chelsea
Monday, May 18, 2009
Hello All!
This is my official first blog sent straight from Nairobi, Kenya. After an incredible bout of finals papers I literally ran to the Anthropology office at Columbia, turned in my last paper, and jumped in a cab to the airport. Exhausted, I slept from New York to London, then from London to Nairobi (about 16 hours in total).
Getting to Nairobi I was met by the group who will be participating in the academic program with me. They are a wonderful group of students and Professor who come from different universities in Canada.
We have already started our adventure!
On the first day after arrival, to cure jetlag, we enjoyed our only "touristy" day on the whole trip and as a surprise from our professor, Dr. King, we visited an elephant orphanage! There we saw and got to pet orphaned elephants during their feeding time and learned quite a bit about the conservation efforts to reintroduce the elephants back into the wild.
I was very impressed by the extremely mindful approach the organization had in a multifaceted approach to environmental conservation and education.
Since the elephants were to be reintroduced into the wild, the organization only exposed the babies to one hour a day to public viewing. All and all I want to stress that the operation wasn't at all exploitative and they made the uptmost efforts to preserve in the natural condition while educating society about issues like illegal poaching and environmental devestation that threatens animal populations.
An interesting note: elephants are such emotional creatures that in order for the babies to survive sucessfully they must be accompanied by, even at night sleeping, with a designated caretaker that takes the place of the maternal mothers role (psychologically) of nurturing and companionship. To avoid the aforementioned attachment to humans I mentioned, the caregivers rotate positions between the elephants to not propogate dependence on one individual. And then eventually the elephant is "weened" off of the caretaker and encouraged to develop an affinity with the other elephants in the 'orphanage'.
Most of the babies were orphaned by poaching or indirect consequences from the current drought in Kenya. People dig wells in order to find water and the babies will fall into them, forcing the rest of the herd to leave them behind.
Well, there is so much more to come but I have homework to do!
Love (and please write on my blogsite!),
Chelsea
p.s. "jambo" is hello in Swahili
This is my official first blog sent straight from Nairobi, Kenya. After an incredible bout of finals papers I literally ran to the Anthropology office at Columbia, turned in my last paper, and jumped in a cab to the airport. Exhausted, I slept from New York to London, then from London to Nairobi (about 16 hours in total).
Getting to Nairobi I was met by the group who will be participating in the academic program with me. They are a wonderful group of students and Professor who come from different universities in Canada.
We have already started our adventure!
On the first day after arrival, to cure jetlag, we enjoyed our only "touristy" day on the whole trip and as a surprise from our professor, Dr. King, we visited an elephant orphanage! There we saw and got to pet orphaned elephants during their feeding time and learned quite a bit about the conservation efforts to reintroduce the elephants back into the wild.
I was very impressed by the extremely mindful approach the organization had in a multifaceted approach to environmental conservation and education.
Since the elephants were to be reintroduced into the wild, the organization only exposed the babies to one hour a day to public viewing. All and all I want to stress that the operation wasn't at all exploitative and they made the uptmost efforts to preserve in the natural condition while educating society about issues like illegal poaching and environmental devestation that threatens animal populations.
An interesting note: elephants are such emotional creatures that in order for the babies to survive sucessfully they must be accompanied by, even at night sleeping, with a designated caretaker that takes the place of the maternal mothers role (psychologically) of nurturing and companionship. To avoid the aforementioned attachment to humans I mentioned, the caregivers rotate positions between the elephants to not propogate dependence on one individual. And then eventually the elephant is "weened" off of the caretaker and encouraged to develop an affinity with the other elephants in the 'orphanage'.
Most of the babies were orphaned by poaching or indirect consequences from the current drought in Kenya. People dig wells in order to find water and the babies will fall into them, forcing the rest of the herd to leave them behind.
Well, there is so much more to come but I have homework to do!
Love (and please write on my blogsite!),
Chelsea
p.s. "jambo" is hello in Swahili
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