Nanyuki and Activism

After my hike in Longonot, I had the privilege of not only meeting Leah and Ashley, but two more expats—Sona and Anna. Over dinner, we decided that we would do go on a boat ride on Lake Naivaisha the next day and then, I would tag along to the Aberdare National Forest for a game drive with Sona and Anna.

Both adventures proved to be par for the course in Naivasha. On the boat trip, all of us marveled at the flamingos, zebra, and most of all, hippos. They are such enormous creatures!! On the ride there we saw giraffes, warthogs, and impalas. So cool.

After saying ‘see you later’ to Leah and Ashley (I’ll get to it), Sona, Anna and I went to Aberdare National Forest. We woke up very early in the morning and met our driver, Douglas, an incredible naturalist and even nicer man. He drove us the 2.5 hours to Aberdare National Forest. Upon entering the mountains, we saw evidence of elephants (they seem to trample through everything). As we ascended to the park gate, something black and quick ran across the road.  “What was that!?” I asked Douglas. He responded that it was the rare black leopard. It was cool to cross another one of the Big Five (elephant, rhino, lion, leopard, buffalo) off of my list, even though it crossed the corner of my eye.

All in all, the Aberdare National Forest was a great place to see wildlife—but it didn’t get the savanna feel. It was a beautiful, mountainous forest. It was really secluded—which was nice, had breathtaking waterfalls, but it lacked the carnivores that make a safari. It took a long time for us to come across the elephants—but when we saw them… it’s incredible. We were within 10 yards of these giants.

I said my goodbyes to Sona and Anna and early Thursday morning, I packed up my tent (for the first time since Friday!) and jumped a matatu back to Naivaisha.  I waited a long time to get another matatu to Nyahururu and then on to Nanyuki. One of the best feelings in the world is to drive off exploring small towns. Each has their own charm. Nyahururu has an expansive clothes market and because it is so cold there (being in the mountains), I was able to find a pair of wool socks that would be good for hiking.  I stopped for lunch there at a place recommended by Ashley and Leah.

The majority of the journey to Nanyuki occurred through an extremely flat valley with no visible road. We were in between two mountains and far from any visible village. It seemed odd to me that there were young boys collecting stacks of firewood branches out in the middle of this plain—where do they find it? How do they get back home? It will remain one of the many mysteries of Kenya.

I arrived to Nanyuki around 3 o’clock and met Ashley there. Nanyuki is one of my favorite towns in Kenya. Again, it has the charm of most small towns in Kenya but an added bonus of quaint Western restaurants due to the British army base located there. We went to one of them, where I met Matt, also from the Bay Area. He has started his own project here in Kenya that assists street children with their education. There is a surplus of street kids in Nanyuki and Matt is attempting to fund students who truly want to go back to school. Read more about his project here.

Here, I had an incredible milkshake—the best one I have had since I left the states. After a quick tutor session that Ashley was administering, we went back to Daraja Academy, where Ashley, Leah, and Matt live.  To my pleasant surprise, it was on the campus of the once Baraka School, featured in the documentary Boys of Baraka (add it to your Netflix if you haven’t seen it already. It is a film that I used as part of my curriculum in teaching my social justice seminar.) Finding this school has been on my Kenyan bucket list and to see what has become of it since the documentary was made. I can only say that meeting Leah and Ashley in the middle (literally, right in the middle) of Kenya was serendipitous.

Daraja Academy is an interesting and equally wonderful place for students to learn. According to the website, “Daraja Academy is a boarding secondary school for Kenyan girls with top academic scores and exceptional leadership skills but no means to continue their education.  The academy provides shelter, food, healthcare and counseling services which allows students to focus on their academic and personal potential, without being hindered by the everyday barriers of poverty.” Although most students were on their term holidays, I had the chance to meet some Form 4 students (seniors). I was surprised that when I met them I was greeted with a hug! Even the Muslim students felt comfortable doing this. The contrast from my school in Malindi was stark.  At first, I felt so wonderful about this and then, I began to realize that although this was a safe place for girls in the present, how would their lives be after Daraja if they returned to their families with austere social codes?

We really don’t know, as this is the first graduating class from Daraja. However, I began to ponder about the roles of expats in Kenya, recalling an article entitled “The White Savior Industrial Complex” in response to the Kony 2012 video. In my two years for TFA, I felt similar feelings as I do in Kenya: as a white, privileged American, is it my place to inspire change amongst those who lack the privilege that I have been granted through my destined birth? In many ways, in both Africa and TFA, I felt as though I was/am a cultural imperialist, much like, say, the way certain Iraqi citizens view American soldiers. My question always remained as a teacher in DC: is promoting college the best advice I can give in this situation? If a student is happy, why would I promote something that may change this? In southeast DC, where a college education is certainly not the culture, is it my place to attempt to change the way of life? Although my dogmas are not religiously based, I cannot hide that the bare bones of my work are somewhat akin to a spiritual missionary.

These feelings, like the White Savior Industrial Complex, are, for lack of a better term, complex. My intentions are good-- I know that—as does Teju Cole. But, does my activism (as a teacher) fit the bill? In a recent conversation here, my conversation partner and I discussed the roles of women in this culture. He spoke adamantly that a man should never make less income than a woman, that a woman’s place is in the home. There would be an upset in the balance of the relationship if the woman made more money than the man. This “balance,” in the back of my head, was synonymous with power. I obeyed a rule that I have learned in my years—God gave us two ears and one mouth for a reason—to listen twice as much as to speak.  All that he was uttering was utterly backwards to my education and upbringing. But again, was it my place to say that his education and upbringing was wrong?  By the end of the conversation, we agreed to disagree, of course. In the end, we both learned about each other's cultures and probably became more visceral about our own ways as being the correct path. This ‘activism,’ therefore, probably wouldn’t gain much momentum, especially if the population is not willing to accept the ideas brought forth by the activist. I believe that this too is true, the ‘outsider’ cannot initiate change; those in the inside must be the ones who initiate it.

In the classroom here, I’m confronted by this notion everyday. When I sing happy birthday to the girls I must say that I feel a little guilty—almost as though Big Brother (aka the administration?) may be watching. The girls love the attention, but does it help that a role model has broken a rule of their prophet? (I can blame some of this on ignorance, some on my Western teaching philosophies.) Daraja may prepare girls for the “Western world,” but will they ever reach there? Will my students in DC reach college (because lofty ambitions and false promises were forced down their throats by all teachers alike) and not because of their own accords?  Will they even have better jobs after college as they were told?

I can’t say that my answer to these questions is polished, but I do have a few resounding thoughts that justify activism—perhaps for me as well as my views on organizations like Daraja. First and foremost, as I began as an educator four years ago, my goal was to promote further education after high school. Now, it is to provide the opportunity for further education after high school. If a student wants to make an ethical, honest living as a  mechanic, I am all for it… if that makes her happy. But I will do my best to give the opportunity to prepare her for life, and if she chooses, further education. As for activism overseas, I can only come to a few conclusions at this time. Primarily, if one person feels that her life has been improved because of any help whatsoever, I can’t help but think that is a step towards the positive. As a white, American male, I understand that I have been dealt good cards.  But does that mean that I can only help other white, American males? What sort of world would that be? (Oh, the Skull and Bones Society? Yes!) I think this is what Teju Cole is lacking in his article, as well. If we only helped those in our same class, race, gender, and country, the world would be seemingly segregated. To give an ethical, educational opportunity to someone through the work that I choose is my goal. No matter who that person is—white, black, male, female, American, Kenyan—the opportunity will be there for the taking.

The rest of my time at Daraja was fantastic. They had a really nice guitar on the compound, so I had a chance to play some tunes with Ashley, who has a wonderful singing voice. We played board games (well, attempted to anyway), ate great food, and even went to some local waterholes at night. Coincidentally, I participated in an activist parade for the street children as well. All in all, it was a wonderful end to a great adventure. Can’t wait until my new friends come and visit me in Malindi!

Signing off,

Adam