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| I was sitting in the library the other day, (the library I've copiously
avoided for the past five months because I'm afraid of what it'll make
me) pondering why I seem to get along so much better with the
upperclassmen in one of the clubs I'm in, and the fourth year says to
me, "Well, you intimidate the other first years. You're not a typical
Asian. They don't know what to make of you. You're not a real pre-med.
You're outspoken and you go to places like Africa."
But what do I say to that, really? I mean, I've spent the last four
years of my life convincing first myself, and then the people around me
that I have a voice. I have the capacity to control my life. The
problems in the world, they won't go away just because I want them to.
It's become a way of life, somehow, this ridiculous dreaming ambition.
I want to change the world. I'm not only well on my way to doing so, I have.
I hate the arrogance of that statement, but I feel as if it has to be
said in order to be believed. Yes, that sullen 14 year old sitting in
the dark listening to Bright Eyes and crying is capable of securing the
funding to build a school in Haiti.
So to tell me that I'm intimidating is indeed fathomable, but only
because I've reached a level of cognizance in my own life, where I know
exactly how upwardly mobile my limitations are. How do I reconcile that
with the fact that I do want to be approachable, though? One of the
biggest problems I had, right when I got back from Kenya, was the fact
that I now saw the world in a completely different manner. And everyone
else around me? Didn't see a thing. They couldn't. It wasn't fair for
me to expect them to, either. I'm afraid of permanently being in that
position.
It's an odd contrast with crew, to say the least. I am by no means in
my element there. I have none of the confidence I so easily throw
around elsewhere in my life, perhaps because I know I don't have that
right. I am completely new to the sport, and for fuck's sake, I haven't
even been on the water yet. I keep telling myself that it'll come, but
in a lot of ways, it's growing me. I sound like I'm a chia pet or
something.
(non sequitur alert) It's odd, how waves of Kenya will flow over me
sometimes. Someone will say something and I'll suddenly have a rush of
names, situations flooding at me. I'll hear children yelling in the
street, and I'll fill in words for them.
Sometimes, I'll hear "Canada! Canada!" (the group I went with was Canadian) and "Karibu! Welcome!"
Others, I have nightmares about: "Give me food. Give me money. Give me anything."
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| I visited today.
Magritte, Gerome, Dalí, Picasso, Van Gogh.
All my favorite paintings that reside in either the Met or Moma.
It's been a long three months without them. I used to live in these
museums. I'd be there, on opening day, of any new exhibit. I'd scarcely
be able to sleep because, well, I'd be so excited about the new
exhibit. Da Vinci's sketches kept me up for days. I don't even get this
excited about boys. Jeebus.
I had an odd childhood, one of those "learning intensive" ones. Read:
math camp, genetics camp, sneaking books under the piano so that I
could read while I played, museums up the wazoo. I could've hated it.
In fact, I did. And then I learned to love at least some of it.
The part where instead of normal playgrounds (I had those too), I had a
giant Viking ship. Where giant elephant replicas in the Museum of
Natural History were my imaginary (nonmoving) friends. As I grew older,
I'd sneak into the city on my own, and visit what became my favorite
paintings. Paintings that meant home to me. Paintings that, each time I
saw them, would reveal something new that was beautiful about the
world.
So while I was there, I picked up a print of my second favorite
painting in the world. Well, there are at least seven of those, but you
can pretend with me, no? For at least the past twenty trips I've taken
to the Met, I've stalked the gift shop, looking for a print of
Pygmalion and Galatea by Gerome. Who has lots of funny accents that I
can't find. It's been there. And I've told myself that I don't really
need it. It's already been etched into my mind. But it's Christmas, I
miss home terribly when I'm in Chicago, and lordy, it was all of six
dollars. What. Was. I. Thinking?
So it lives in a giant bag right now, sitting by my luggage, waiting to fly back and move in, next to my Dalí's and Frida.
I miss only about a million things about New York when I'm at school,
but if we pretend food doesn't count (because who would eat
bagels and pizza anywhere else?!) and, well, you kinda sorta know how I
feel about the art, public transportation is definitely up there. I've
taken seven different subways since I've been back. I love that I can
actually get places with New York's public transportation. Life is
accessible, and I adore it for that.
| | |
| I could say it was going to Kenya and not being able to blog, much less have human contact outside the Masai Mara for a month.
I could say it was having a summer internship where I couldn't perform work-avoidance of the internet-kind.
I could say it was the madness of moving out of my house for the very first time.
I could say it was the tumult of starting college.
I could say all of those, and they'd be true, but the truth is, I've been blogging elsewhere.
One of my friends asked me the other day why I felt the need to blog.
He passwords everything on his computer with a fingerprint scanner, so
he's hugely privacy-oriented. The best explanation I could give him was
this one: that xanga was wher I first discovered that I could write
worth something. I had a community of people who would read my work and
critique it, who came from places and situations that gave them
fascinating perspectives. Perspectives I'd have no other means to tap.
I learned to write with my own voice because I was writing at such high
volumes. To know that I could write about something that had some
resonance for people throughout the world and across the nation, it
meant more than just scribbling in a notebook.
But I haven't truthfully blogged in a quite a while.
How can I summarize the last six months of my life without sounding trite? Quite honestly, I can't.
I do resolve to do one thing, though. I will catch up with you. And
you. And you. I miss you all tremendously. And I will do what I can to be back.
Oh, and because I'm still only a day late, Merry Christmas, yo.
(costa maya . mexico . 2005 )
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| (REALLY long entry to follow... but it's a weekend. You can handle it.)
5.17.05
So we started off today with rules and expectations (Yay rules! Sorry.
Bad habit that started with Ed G---- at a LT conference...
now all us FTC cult members cheer for rules and itinerary changes.
Right. Pavlov.) and a discussion of cultural understanding. When it's
appropriate (or not) to take photos of people and houses. Even having
read Jamaica Kincaid's A Small Place
and written not one, but two treatises on tourism, I still can't fully
comprehend how I never once saw that it would be inappropriate to take
photos of people living their lives. I do think that I'll be
recommending that a A Small Place
be read by all participants before arriving in any foreign country for
an LT trip, though. It does introduce the concept of cultural
understanding in a great way.
After that whole discussion, we (half the group that didn't lose bags)
left for an elephant orphanage and a giraffe sanctuary, where I
proceeded to photograph nearly 30 "portraits" of elephants, giraffes
and warthogs. I've never been within ten yards of any of these animals,
let alone looking in them in the eye and seeing every single hair,
eyelash & whisker. While at the elephant sanctuary, I was still
testing out my camera and figuring out how to use it so those shots are
not so great. But still! Fuzzy, coarse baby elephant! For petting!
Apparently, the centre is entirely privately funded and it provides for
elephants that have been found in the wilderness, defenseless. The
trainers sleep with the elephants at night to "mother" them until the
elephants become more independent and the trauma inflicted is further
distanced.
We then proceeded to the giraffe centre (with brochure at left) where I
fed this supercute girl-giraffe named Laura. Oh my goodness was I
grossed out by their long slobbery grey tongues. Fortunately, none of
the photos display my horror/fear. But hey. I still did it, eh? Oh and
a side note. I'm becoming Canadian. More on that later.
[retrospective note: I managed to format my memory chip a day later,
losing all of my photos thus far on the trip. I suck. No cute baby
elephants for you.  ]
We came back to the Kolping house in Karen [which is right outside of
Nairobi proper, along bumpy roads that are lined with plant nurseries
(which apparently is a huge industry in Nairobi)] to eat lunch (which
was fabulous and did not
make me sick... one day down, many more to go). We then proceeded to an
open air market, our "main chance" [retrospective note: a total lie] to
buy souvenirs and random fake "Kenyan" objects. I emailed home (okay,
to my supporters) for less than a dollar and then spent approximately
$30 on random junk. I think I got a good deal only on one set of
bartered items, but it was an hour and a half's worth of entertainment
so there was no doubt a good time had.
Amusingly enough, the one good deal I got was on banana leaf paintings,
which is tied to my first almost-scary story. I walked into a stall as
Gillian, one of the other participants, stood outside. Of course, the
stall owner was "sister sister let me show you something"-ing me as I
browsed. I picked four placemats out and began the bargaining battle.
I, quite frankly, was willing to pay 1000 shillings for the four
placemats ($12 US) but the woman named me 4000. Ha, no. I'm a dumb
tourist who has to claim to be Canadian in order not to be totally
quoted outrageous prices, but I'm not that dumb. So I tell her 500,
hoping to eventually get it to 1000. We go back and forth for about ten
minutes, and she's at 2000 and no longer budging.
I'm well aware that I'm not paying that much, so I move to leave. I'm
not all that huge, but I'm not tiny either. But the stall is set up for
disaster. I'm blocked in by the woman, who has her arms outstretched
and is pleading, "sister, sister, I'll give it to you for 2000 and your
hat" (my softball team's visor... are you kidding me? that thing is
ancient and disgusting and I love it) and I move to leave. She grabs my
arm in a death grip and oh my I think I'm going to get mugged or die or
I don't know what because I'm so panicked and she won't let me out. I
don't give a crap about the paintings anymore... I just want to get out
of there. I'm making a scene and whoa I so don't care. I yell and send
Gillian a look. She grabs my arm and pulls me physically out.
Half an hour later, I barter my way into getting them for 600 shillings.
As if that wasn't enough for one day, we went out to eat at an
Ethiopian restaurant. Yes, we are in Kenya. The food was spicy and
strong and and served on a giant white spongy thing that looks like cow
tripe in long bandage form and has the aftertaste of "white sweet rice
cake", a Chinatown food. [r.n.: that bandage-thing is known as ugali, and it's just water mixed with maize flour, a staple of the Kenyan diet]
It's barely 10pm now, and I'm so exhausted. We weren't even building today...
So... reflections on all of the above:
- rich Kenyan philanthropists are willing to save baby elephants
and yet 40% of the population is unemployed, if I remember correctly,
nearly 50% is under the poverty line. priorities misaligned much?
- Kenya smells so clean, and yet the exhaust from the old trucks
smells absolutely awful. I wonder when the environment will finally
catch up.
- there is no real middle class and so the poor and the rich are
really stratified; when will this divide become that painfully apparent
to me?
5.16.05
Oh my goodness. In 8 hours, I'll be in Kenya. For real. It's almost a
good thing that I left my proposal at home because I now have a new
different opportunity to define my goals.
- to have an opportunity to see my "action" in a concrete form
- to experience a different culture/way of life
- to meet new people
- to figure out if I can "survive" volunteering in a long term setting
I'm sure there are more, but I don't have them in my brain right
now. What I do know is this: I am far more personally invested in my
Senior Project than the average senior, not just because of all the
fundraising I had to do (but that is indeed a huge part of it) but also
because to some extent, Kenya has been the past three years of my life.
Sure, I didn't know it then, but it's not just the money that's gone
there. It's also the consciousness that I've had to gain in order to
get there.
I could be completely making this up, but the way the community is
described, the way the welcome is detailed, I think these are why we're
working in Kenya. Because the people are receptive. Or maybe because
Marc & Roxanne spent such extensive time there. Kidding!
The two facilitators of this trip are Charlotte and Robin. Charlotte,
I've known for years now, as our paths have crossed multiple times.
She's the University Coordinator, which means in four months, if I'm
still freeing children, I'll be reporting to her instead of Jessica
& Sarah.
I'm not sure if I'm more comfortable being on this trip, being the
youngest but most socially active participant, or if I would have been
better suited to the India trip this summer, where every single
participant has been on a trip already and is someone I already know
too. I'm in an awkward position, I think, but I don't know if it's
awkward because it's awkward or because I'm creating a situation for
myself that's awkward.
On the flight from Heathrow to Nairobi, it seems as if nearly every person on the plane is on their way to volunteer.
5.15.05
People have been asking me endlessly for the last few days (weeks,
really) when I'm leaving for Kenya. And suddenly I'm writing that date.
It's a really weird sensation, having today come.
The day feels androgynous, for some only partially explicable reason. I
look outside and I see three different trees, that look like they're in
three different seasons. What? Yeah, I don't think I make sense either.
As for the rest of yesterday, although there was indeed a party, it was
notsomuch "all" the GTA kids as it was Ari. Ari's been around in FTC
just a year less than I have, and yet, I've never really formally met
her. Of course, like all the rest of the GTA kids, she's really really
ridiculously cool. And oh man. As if I didn't already quote Zoolander a
few days ago... we watched, oh yes, Zoolander. Which contrary to the
FTC [my local chapter's] kids' complaints, really does have to do with
child labor. What a perfect way to be sent off. 
Oh, and as I've glued in on the right, we took the subway to Ari's. I <3 trains.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So I've met up with the group and we've done our initial activity &
debrief. Leaders Today is a far different experience, having seen a
glimpse of the facilitation style / technical stuff. I've noticed that
we never really just do an activity for the fun of it... there's always
a debrief with tons of affirmation and I understand to some extent the
need for all that affirmation, but I know that personally, I don't
always mean it when I say, "oh that was great" or "wow, that's so
cool."
Anyway, our name game consisted of throwing a ball of fabric around and
stating both our names and what excited us most about Kenya. Fairly
rote for a name game... and eventually went into a group building
activity with "how can we pass the ball around fastest." In about ten
minutes, we'd reduced the time from 7 minutes to 1 second, and of
course like the "how many pyramids can we make"
icebreaker/group-building activity, the idea is to see that different
people have different ideas and it's about seeing the goal not for the
concrete goal, but looking at why. [retrospect note: dork moment!]
Parallel to English, where it's not enough to summarize, but one must
look to the analysis. Parallel even to Physics and finding causality
and just seeing observational simultaneity. I have a packet of reading
to do... more observation later. It's just past 4:30am in NY and we're
about to land in London. We have a connecting flight to catch, and at
some point, I'll begin to compose the email I'll write in Nairobi.
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| I have things to say about my life, but not just yet...
My brother got married this weekend.
The wedding itself was beautiful. I mean, the ringbearer didn't show up
for the ceremony. And the pastor said "A [my brother], will you take L
for your lawful wedded wife?" and then proceeded to ask "L, will you
take A for your lawful wedded wife?" Brilliant.
[my crowning photographic achievement of the day]
It occurred to me that I'm leaving for school in less than four weeks.
WTF. Where has the summer gone?! Don't answer that question, dude.
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