One of the benefits of living with a fellow health freak/vegetable lover…
Coming home to a wide range of colorful fruits and vegetables sitting on my counter top.
Also one of the benefits of living in Kenya, where a wide variety of fruits and vegetables are available to you for cheap. I buy an avocado for 10 kshs (~$0.12 USD) in Mathare, versus 168 ksh (~$2.00 USD) in the US.
Some days, I feel like a totally disaffected Nairobian. Someone tried to mug you? He didn’t actually succeed in taking anything of yours or hurt you, so it’s all ok! Got pickpocketed on a matatu? Stop falling for those stupid tricks. Here’s a list of the common scams which you should have figured out your first month here obviously.
Just kidding. But only a little. This isn’t the best conversation topic, but I long ago figured out that in my life and line of work, it’s very difficult to not know someone who has been mugged, raped, murdered, or killed by a car accident… or to have had one of those things happen to you. I don’t often share this because I don’t want people to jump to conclusions about places like Mathare, which has so many beautiful people and so much potential. But that’s my reality here. It strikes me as totally surreal and removed from the existence of my friends in the US and even here in Nairobi. I feel the need to share these thoughts now, though.
Someone once asked me why I don’t write more about my work. My simple answer is that sometimes it’s just too personal, too people-centered. For example, I don’t think I’ll ever write about rapes or murders; those are things that are still too raw and intensely personal. I will say this: they’re things that have deeply affected me as a person, and things I’ll never forget. Whether it happens to you or someone you know, the experience is just so deeply violating that it shakes you to your core.
The story I most commonly share about things like this is the morning of November 11, 2011. It’s a story that is a little more appropriate to share in casual conversations.
My coworker Martina and I were driving to work that morning. A fire had broken out in Mathare, bringing all traffic on Juja Road (the road that separates Mathare and Eastleigh) to a standstill. Matatus and buses crowded the road, all trying to overtake one another to reach their destination. We were locked in and unable to move.
While we sat in the car and chatted, a man sauntered over to the driver’s side of the car and brought his body down on the side mirror. I remember the moment perfectly; first I was confused about what was happening- had he accidentally run into the car? No- he was stealing the mirror. We started shouting and banging on the window. The man ran away, not having been able to fully pull the mirror off.
Shaken up, we pulled the mirror, now just hanging by a wire, into the car. I turned to Martina and said, “Martina, I’m getting this long, pointy umbrella from your backseat. The next person who tries to take something, I’m hitting him with this.”
Five minutes after those words left my mouth, a man ran up to the front of the car and began to pull the headlight out. I threw open the door, waving the umbrella and shouting, heart pounding. After untangling myself from the seat belt, Martina and I watched the man dash away with the headlight. A sinking feeling hit the pit of my stomach, the one you get when you’ve lost something forever and have to accept it.
But Martina had had enough. She chased him barefoot into the slum (Martina subscribes to the drive-without-shoes school of thought) .
All of a sudden I was alone, standing in the middle of Juja Road, doors to the car wide open, engine still running, laptop and bags in the backseat. Panicking, I raced back into the car, locked all the doors, and sat myself behind the steering wheel. People began swarming the car. Digging out my phone, hands shaking, I called all the men I knew and trusted in Mathare, telling them my location and asking them to come help me. In the background, I heard the shouting and voices of people covering the car.
Several thoughts raced through my mind: What if someone stole something else off the car? Should I chase them? If I did, would I return only to find the car stripped bare and our bags missing? If I didn’t, would it become a free-for-all anyway because people knew I was helpless and trapped?
Martina returned, carrying her headlight. The man had dropped it, sacrificing the light for his physical safety. She stood outside the car threateningly holding the long umbrella until traffic subsided. Three coworkers arrived just as cars began moving. We made it to work almost two hours late, hearts still pounding. I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day.
Now, when I sit in really bad traffic in that area, my adrenaline goes up. I unbuckle my seat belt so I can get out quickly if needed. I put my bag somewhere where people can’t swoop in and grab it if I need to open the door to chase someone. I hold on to Martina’s long, pointy umbrella (which we jokingly call her weapon of mass destruction). I make sure that whoever I’m with has left space between their car and the next one, so they can drive quickly if someone comes up to the car. I know not to leave my windows down.
I know all these things, and I can’t get them out of my system. Because once you’ve had your safe space personally violated to that extent, you can never fully get back that same sense of security.
The best friendships are the ones that make you feel “profoundly alive”. I read this term from a book by Alice Steinbach, which I’m feeling ambivalent about but I seized upon the words “profoundly alive” because it spoke to my heart.
How else do you sum up a friendship that brings so much joy, where you feel like you’re experiencing things like a child again, completely aware and amazed? How do you sum up a friendship where the best of you is drawn out and you feel like the best possible version of yourself?
What kindred spirits, soul friends, and best friends make you feel is profoundly alive and wildly, deliriously grateful to be so.
Going through my Flickr, examining old photos like the one above. Who would’ve thought that a little more than a year later I’d be working for a summer in Mathare? And that more than three years later I’d be sitting here, looking at a landscape that is now so familiar to me?
When I was in Kenya three years ago, I was a total mess. Mathare was the first slum I visited. It was Valentine’s Day and we did a site visit with MYSA, an organization I became infatuated with as soon as I saw the community library. Now MYSA is my neighbor, I occasionally work in the library, and I’ve researched and worked in two other slums. And most importantly: I still don’t have things figured out but I feel more settled in myself now.
Life is a funny thing. It never ceases to surprise you.
“Whatever you do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Lalibela, Ethiopia. April 2012. The places I get to go are pure magic.
I’m realizing more and more how much the last year or two has taught me about relationships.
- Family is the most important thing. They’ll love you and worry about you, even when you’re stressed out, angry, unhappy, and taking it out on them. No one will ever be more sensitive to your emotions and needs than your family, and no one will ever be more unconditional. My family came to visit me in November, while I was in the midst of a lot of emotional struggles, and I spent a large chunk of the time feeling upset and stressed. I constantly regret not having utilized and appreciated the time I had with them more. The one thing I can take from it and the time away from them is that I’ll appreciate when I have them physically in my life again.
- The best friends you’ve had for a long time will always be the most important for shining the mirror back on you and reflecting what you’re going through. You can travel to new, exciting places and meet fascinating people, but the connections you make are often shallow. If you’re abroad, people are often too busy trying to stay afloat to recognize your issues. Stay in touch with your friends from home, and you’ll find the weight on your shoulders surprisingly lightened after a really good, long conversation.
- It’s so easy to be annoyed and irritated with the most consistent people in your life. Whether they’re family or a loyal friend or roommates, it becomes really easy to project your stress and unhappiness on them. Take a step back, breathe, and ask yourself whether you’d be proud of treating badly someone who cares about you and is always there for you.
- Be deliberate about your relationships, both platonic and romantic. There are two general types of relationships I’ve invested time in that come to mind: relationships with people I didn’t particularly respect or take seriously and relationships with people I didn’t particularly trust or feel supported by, but liked. In both cases, those feelings were early warning signs. In the first situation, I was always bored. In the second, I was always bored and lonely. I’ve walked away from both types with ideas of what I didn’t want. In general I don’t regret decisions I’ve made but I can’t help but occasionally regret the experiences for the time they cost me in other experiences that could have been more fulfilling and meaningful intellectually and emotionally. The one invaluable lesson I could take away from this, which dictated my new year resolution, was to be more deliberate.
- Be thoughtful and conscious of your actions and words. They can be misinterpreted if you’re not careful. If you’re upset or angry with someone, rehearse what you want to say, sleep on it, and then think about whether you still want to say those things. Hurtful words can never be taken back, even after the issues are resolved. Say something hurtful, and you may always be that person by people who know you and people who don’t.If you’re pouring out emotions and thoughts for your own benefit and not to improve communication, sleep on it. Say something ridiculous or dramatic, and you may always be that person (again, by people who know you and people who don’t- these are even more prone to ridicule).You can never take back your words. Value them and understand their power in both their potential to hurt and embarrass yourself and others.
Not lessons that were easy for me to learn. They’re also lessons I’m still learning all the time.
“That’s just how things are in Kenya. Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?” - The common question I receive when I have a gripe about a problem in Nairobi. Whether it’s smaller issues like long lines and poor customer service, or larger systemic issues like corrupt police and poor infrastructure, I get a similar response.
It’s a little more complicated than that. Sitting by passively and accepting it is simply intolerable. On the other hand, constantly raging and getting worked up over those issues is an unsustainable level of passion. Where is the in-between?
We do others no favors when we say, “That’s just how things are.” When we lower our expectations and standards for others we’re saying, “I don’t think you’re capable of more.”
I find neither of these acceptable. Marianne Williamson said it best when she said, “Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.”
The key is to accept the nuance, the idea that it will never be black and white, and be realistic about where you’re starting from and how quickly you want to go. Just don’t play small- no one benefits.
We owe it to ourselves and others to expect-no, demand- more.
I fully acknowledge that I have an unhealthy fascination with mkokotenis (carts). This one is painted bright green, which brings a nice splash of color to the lack of green in Mathare.
What I love about mkokotenis is just how useful they are. The tires are recycled tires from cars; they’re unsafe for car use, but perfect for mkokoteni use. Entrepreneurs and workers who can’t afford cars can pull lots of vegetables and more on these. Sometimes the placards that hang from the back have funny sayings on them. Sometimes they’re painted and personalized like this one. Not to mention, I just love the way the word “mkokoteni” rolls off your tongue.
There are a few different reactions to mkokotenis on the road. Perhaps the most common one is that of annoyance, as they’re bigger than bicycles and harder to pass on a busy road. But when I see an mkokoteni, I feel grateful and humbled. Grateful that someone is making their honest living, humbled by how difficult the work must be.
Someone once told me that my appreciation of baseball is too strangely based on strategy and analysis. It’s just a sport, they said. You’re over-complicating it, they said.
I wonder what they’d think of my affection for mkokotenis.
Yesterday, Africa Yoga Project came to our Leadership Institute Program training to do a yoga demonstration and talk about the benefits of yoga (one of the ways I like to think I’m leaving my little impact on Dignitas).
These are kids from a school in Huruma, which borders Mathare. The little girl that is adjusting one of the students is nine years old. Yet when she went up there in front of 100 adults, she was strong, steady, confident, and a leader.
Every now and then, I teach yoga to a friend or someone I’m comfortable with. I’m not trained, but yoga is like second nature to me now. I read about poses, think about alignment, adore the feeling of wringing the stress and sweat out of my body. For some time now I’ve thought about teaching classes for free to practice as an instructor and teacher, and to think more about the practice itself. But I’ve never felt confident enough to do it. I’m not trained. What gives me the authority to teach a class? What if no one gets anything out of it? Seeing this nine year old girl, however, made me realize I don’t have any excuses.
A good reminder to jump into life unfettered, with as much confidence, enthusiasm, and strength as a nine year old.
I enjoy writing and musing too much to ever use Tumblr the way most people use it, but for days when I’m feeling especially lazy and want to think visually, you can visit my Pinterest.
You won’t find me planning my dream wedding on there, but I will be saving a lot of delicious food, treehouses, and more.
