Reflection on Kenya: "You'll Come Back Changed."

Kenya: “You Will Come Back Changed.”

By Shannon Green   August 26, 2012

I love traveling.  I like almost nothing better than seeing someplace or something I have never seen before.  When I speak with others about travel, I notice two themes consistently emerge from those conversations. The first is the notion that traveling changes a person and the second is that traveling helps a person come to know and understand more about who they are.

     Going to Kenya was my first time off the continent, and the fulfillment of a life dream. Visiting Africa had been on my wish list for 20 years.  In talking to others about my trip I heard some wonderful, personal accounts of traveling to Kenya, or living in Kenya, or being born in Kenya, but mostly I heard, over and over, spoken with firm intention, “Africa will change you.”

     I think I heard it so often, I subconsciously began preparing for some instantaneous, magical transformation that would occur upon stepping off of the plane.  At the very least, I came to believe that it was necessary to open myself completely to whatever I would find in Kenya, and I was sure there would be something magical about it.

     When we arrived, we navigated our way through Customs, gathered our luggage, and stepped out of the airport into the parking lot.  It was dark, and cool, but not cold. I remember smelling the air.  I took in the differences and the familiarities of city life, and I began to experience Kenya.

     Within a few days, we were driving for eight hours through the countryside. The beauty of that experience melted into my bones. It felt like a rite of passage. Staring out a window from the back of the bus changed me.

It crossed my mind that being in Kenya was like seeing the face of God everywhere I looked. I don’t really have a strong belief in whether there is or is not a God.  I am, however, intrigued by the science and stories of human beginnings, and to be so close to the place where human life may have begun, and where so much life has lived, was like affirming a belief in something beyond me.

It was affirmation of a belief in Africa that no more came from maps and books. Of course Africa was real, but I was seeing it with my own eyes. Africa definitely exists. It was all around me.

     The biggest change I felt wasn’t really a change so much as it was a personal revival of a desire to consciously work towards my highest self, to look more intentionally into my own heart.

I was moved by my experiences with our host family, and by my experiences teaching in the primary school. 

I was moved by the effort that every person I met gave to the fulfillment of each day’s work. I have never spent time with people, children and adults alike, who worked so hard every day. I found it exhausting quite honestly, and I wonder if I could keep up the pace for long.

I was moved by the 12 year old boy who gave up his room for me to sleep in for a week. This boy captured my heart over and over again, and brought me to tears when he said I was the best friend he ever had.

Dominic wants to be a politician when he grows up, and when I asked him to tell me what he would want to do if he were to become a politician, his answer endeared me to him even more.  After several moments of careful deliberation, he said, “I would like to bring better roads to my village.” 

Dominic was most intent on telling me about his life, showing me his animals, and was proud of his hard work.  He showed me how to make a hat out of a newspaper, and told me stories about when the old people raised Zebras like cattle but the young people have forgotten how. He told me about elephants coming down from the mountain and destroying gardens and fences, even killing a child once. 

I came to depend on Dominic as my guide and I didn’t really want to go anywhere without him. One of my favorite memories is taking Dominic to the equator for his first visit there, about a 45 minute drive from his home.

On our last night in the village, my roommate and I opened up some sodas and junk food treats for the kids and began packing up our stuff. At some point, he came into the room where I was packing, arm and arm with his cousin. They were very serious about their task and said finally, “I do have one question about Americans.” I invited his question, and he asked deadpan, “Why do Americans have so much stuff?” 

I was actually stumped for a good answer and laughed a little. He then gained confidence and gestured around my room- to my giant suitcase, to my shampoo, my conditioner, my lotion, and my bug spray. I had two flashlights, two journals, a 5 by seven portrait of my youngest son, some books, a magazine, piles of clothes, two pairs of shoes and some mud boots I had gotten on arrival, not to mention the piles of souvenirs I’d bought so far. A backpack, drawing paper, markers for the kids, bags of sweets to share, an umbrella, a rain coat, wet wipes, hand sanitizer, and who knows what else. 

Why did Americans have so much stuff?  We talked about it some, but really never came up with a good answer.

I was changed by what I learned in Kenya.

I learned a fair amount about teaching. I learned that I am extremely dependent on paper as a teacher. Without it, I am at a bit of a loss.

I learned that magic markers aren’t that fun when you don’t have nearly enough for everyone. They dry up too quickly and become nothing but trash in a land with no trash service. I learned that colored pencils would have been a better choice.

I learned that my ability to teach American Government to a group of 8^th graders without extreme liberal bias is questionable at best. I learned that these same 8^th graders agree unanimously that America should open its border completely to Mexico for people who want to come to America to work. I learned that the most difficult question for me to answer was when the children asked me to explain how poor people are treated in America. I learned that even educated African adults are largely incredulous at the thought of poverty existing in America at all.

I learned that my ability to manage a classroom of 59 eight to ten year olds who hold the most rudimentary of English skills with nothing but myself and a piece of chalk greatly diminishes at about the one hour thirty minute mark. I learned that my ability to fall in love with a room full of 3 to 5 year olds does not diminish despite the distance traveled.  And no matter how much I say I love all children and all people everywhere, I feel the best when I am with the youngest. 

I learned that in Africa, just like America, the youngest children have the greatest needs that most often go unmet. I learned that when I did not know what to say or do, I could sing a song and it usually sufficed. I learned that intuition about people is strong despite cultural barriers; I seemed to be able to figure out who had my best interest in mind and who didn’t pretty easily- and most people did. I was reminded that people everywhere have within themselves an ability to be generous, and strong, and loving- and most people are.

I learned that the biggest challenge I faced in Kenya was not in “doing without.” It was not in dealing with a lack of electricity, missing running water, or using outdoor latrines.

The most difficult cultural difference for me was about space. I was processing so much new information - new sights, new sounds, new colors, new patterns, new people, that I found myself retreating to my room too often. I craved space and solitude, and silence often to the confusion of my new Kenyan family.

On my last night in the village, I wrote in my journal, “I hope so much that when I return to America, that I am able to harness the energy and motivation to keep in touch with this family, Stephen and Lucy, Dominic, Faith and Collins. I would feel good about continuing to have a positive impact on the community, and particularly for Lucy and the family.”

On my last night in Kenya, we returned to the Grace House Resort, the hotel that served as a pit stop between all of our adventures.  In the common area was a worn copy of “How to Be Compassionate: A Handbook for Creating Inner Peace and a Happier World” by the His Holiness the Dalai Lama.  After discussing the karmic nature of lifting such a book from the commons area to read on the plane with my roommate, I took it with me.

Since returning, I have looked again more often to the spiritual side of myself.  I have spent more time in meditation, more time practicing yoga and trying to internalize its messages off the mat.  I have recited mantras about giving and forgiving, about living joyfully and living skillfully. I have enjoyed so much the readings by the Dalai Lama. I have heard his call for compassion, and specifically his call for education in compassion.  He says that it is, “Our responsibility-out of love and compassion for human kind-to seek harmony among nations, ideologies, cultures, ethnic groups, and economic and political systems. As we truly recognize the oneness of all humankind, our motivation to find peace will grow stronger.”

“It is not enough to issue noisy calls to halt moral degeneration; we must do something about it.  Since present day governments do not shoulder such spiritual responsibilities, humanitarians, and religious leaders must strengthen existing civic, social, cultural, educational, and religious organizations to revive human and spiritual values.  Where necessary, we must create new organizations to achieve these goals. This is our best hope for creating a more stable basis for World Peace.”

One specific, intentional, tangible change I’ve made since leaving Kenya was opening my mind and my heart to new, challenging work that just might make the world a better place.  At the invitation of Dr. Peter Gitau, the SIU instructor who took us to Kenya, I have signed on as Co-Founder of the African International Foundation for Educational Excellence, a foundation that will seek to assist educational development in Africa through the practice of direct intervention, community development, research and assessment, educational training, and educational consultancy.

I am so excited by this for several reasons.  First and foremost, I am proud to take this step towards fulfilling a long desire to do meaningful work with the people of Africa, to fulfill my hopes upon leaving Kenya, and to continue growing as a person from my work.

There is so much for me to learn from Africa.  I am excited to be a part of an organization that hopes to work hand in hand with not only spiritual and religious organizations, but also academic organizations and researchers that seek to bring systematic and meaningful change to the educational structures in Africa and from within Africa, change that I hope with all my heart reaches back to America and brings systematic and meaningful change here, where it is surely needed.  I really do not know where my adventures with this organization will take me, but I am committed to remaining as open to whatever finds me as I was on the plane waiting to land in Kenya last May.

  Making Chapati in Kenya with Lucy.