Kule - How Kenya Opened my Eyes

This blog was partially inspired by my awe-inspiring experience in the summer of 2011 ,when I travelled to Kenya with the Kule organization.  Kule is directed by my awe-inspiring teacher, Geoffrey Tindyebwa (at Pearson College). The trip was phenomenal.  It was a perfectly balanced mix of service, education, fun, cultural exchange, growth, and friendship.

 I did not know what to expect before leaving my comfortable life in Canada, but before I knew it, I was being tossed around like a popcorn kernel in the back of a bus on a dusty road in rural Kenya, surrounded by  wonderful people.  All of a sudden, I was in front of 40 ten year olds trying to teach them something they didn't already know (which proved difficult).  I had to resort to explaining what a lobster was in an attempt to describe fishing on the east coast of Canada.   I was playing with children on a huge field,  I was at a bustling market, I was lifting heavy bags of cow bedding,   I was holding hands with disabled ladies at Mother Teresa's home, I was feeding animals and observing elephants.  Before I knew it, I was witnessing some of the most profound beauty and indefatigable human spirit in the 2nd largest slum in Africa.  I was holding Rose's hand as she showed me down the Kibera roads covered in garbage, excrement, and filth.  I was holding her hand as she told me she wanted to be a lawyer and go to university. I was sitting next to her as women around me discussed how they had been raped.

It was eye-opening to say the least.  One of the biggest ways I found myself staring at the hard cold truth, was the response I received whenever I talked about starting university in September.  It was almost as though telling people this seemingly ordinary fact garnered a round of applause.  People told me I was blessed. People told me this was a gift of God, this education.  People told me I would live a good life if I studied hard at university.

I am ashamed to say I never really appreciated the opportunity to attend university. I didn't really value it because it was always meant to be.  I knew I was going to go to university somewhere.  My foolish worries about not having a closet seemed pathetic in comparison to visiting an orphanage in Murang'a where the children had no pillows and slept 10 to a room.

I know it sounds cliche to say, "I went to Africa and it changed my life,"  and I was reluctant to participate in the sort of volontourism that runs rampant today.  I didn't want to travel as some wealthy westerner trying to "fix" people because the truth was, everyone I met in Kenya was much happier than the average Canadian.  They had hardly anything, but they were happier.  They lived together, they relied on one another, they had a strong faith, and they worked hard.  I do not want to romanticize their lives because obviously they face immense challenges like lack of clean water, food, and just aching poverty.   But as I stared out the window mesmerized by the incredible rift valley, all of my ideas of "right and wrong" flew out the window with my breath.

I vowed to myself after a day of glimpsing the sadness in the eyes of one young woman at the local high school, as we talked about scholarships (and the one I had been graciously given), that I would never take my university education for granted. I would learn here on behalf of all those beautiful faces that never could.  I would learn here because I have a duty to try my best because I have been given the world.   That might sound arrogant or weird or cheesy again, but once I saw the reality of how privileged we are in Canada, I couldn't return to the consumerist self-absorbed culture we were accustomed to.

I felt helpless sometimes in Kenya.  I didn't feel like I was doing anything there and couldn't understand how I was contributing.  Then the art teacher at Pearson, Jecton, said something profound and it helped:  he said, that just by visiting these people, we had brought them a kind of international experience.  There's no saying how many  of them will make it past the borders of their country, their province, or their town.  Our presence helped to break down some stereotypes (like white people are capable of physical labour), and in turn we learned that starving children in Africa is a stereotype our media has proliferated. I did not see a single bloated belly malnourished stick child during my entire time.

Maybe this all still sounds cheesy and hopelessly romantic, but I hope that after this experience I can continue to feel connected to all people, everywhere.  We are truly a human family, depending on each other.

Here is a link to a video my very talented friend Niklas made while on our trip....it takes a long time to load but hopefully you'll get a glimpse of our time there:   http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18506892/Kenya%20KULE%202011%20-%20720p.mov