Monday, 13 October 2008

• "najaribu"

   
  "Najaribu." - I'm trying.
  
  I guess I was caught off guard by how making a relationship personal can bring forth questions and realities I'm not ready to accept.
  Today, I was hit with the realization of just how small my efforts are in this ocean of poverty and never ending need: the inability to provide for the children; the reality that no matter how much I give, it will never be enough. Now it's glaringly clear how short 10 weeks truly is.
  
  Before I go on, let me give you a little information about the street kids program we're working on.
  Nafasi Nygine means 'second chance,' and every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, we go to a construction site that a rich friend generously opened up for OHS (high walls all around so we're hidden from the police, because apparently feeding street kids is illegal in Arusha). We split up into families and proceed to teach the kids English and Math. After an hour or so of flash cards and fun reinforcing games, we feed them with delicious food cooked by the mamas on site. And boy, can these kids eat! Plateful after plateful, as if their stomachs are black holes. Every day we spend on site is an extra 3-4 hours with them. And every day they show up is cause of celebration and relief, because it means they have survived another night to come out.
  
  
  I am floundering in pools of new emotions and truths, some I'm definitely not prepared for. I want these kids to be loved and held, to grow up with a normal childhood and worry about things like grades and popularity, instead of when their next meal will be or how to avoid getting raped that night.
  
  But who am I, a mzungu (or mchina), to know what 'normal' means for them?
  
  How obnoxious of me to come into this country knowing nothing about its culture and politics (outside of mishkaki - delicious beef medallions speared on wires and slow grilled....mm..), and presume that I have the answers to all of life problems, that I am here to save the day ?
  
  My friend said it right: it's what being 'westernized' does to you...us in our bubble of superiority.
  
  Leading into that, remember "The Gods Must Be Crazy" ? Daddy and I had a conversation before I left, arguing about politics in chinglish over the phone (it was pretty sensational). So basically we were rowing about how America feels as if the American Way of Life is the only way to live, and thus we intrude and impose on cultures that are centuries our senior, bringing about chaos and unrest. Yes, living the AWoL is an amazing and wonderful privilege - I would never argue against the freedom and rights I have as a citizen of the US of A. But that's because I've been exposed to it, and I know what it's like living in such a way. The saying "ignorance is bliss" enters the argument here - the people cannot miss what they have not had.
  Still, I'm not sure where I stand on this topic right now...is it the duty of the white man (or whoever else that's well financed) to come in and try to lift the heathens out of their backwards way of thinking, or should we leave well enough alone instead of bringing unrest and greed to a nation that doesn't have the same resources as us ?
  
  
  
  Back to my original topic: sometimes I can almost rationalize to myself that "This is better than nothing." The condition we're leaving the children in is better than when we first met them. The days, weeks, months we've given them in love and care will allow the hope they need to push on in life.
  
  I guess the idealist in me still has a difficult time accepting that sometimes, this IS the best we can offer.
  
  Alissa talked me through the tears tonight because she of all people understands what it means to bond intensely with a child then having to send them back to conditions that are not at all ideal (she worked with children who are affected by AIDS/HIV, and for security reasons they are not allowed to remain in contact with the children after camp)...the knowledge that you cannot reach out to them, nor can they seek out your help when they're distressed, or simply sad.
  
  Maybe getting personal isn't the answer. Maybe it's better to stand back so I can be as objective as possible; to think rationally so I can provide the most practical help for these kids. And I'm infinitely grateful for the good balance of idealists and cynics on site - it keeps things in perspective.
  
  
  I leave you all with this:
  
  
  
  

  My kid Hamza (:
  
  
  
  

  
  

  8 weeks left.

  
  

  • 12:56 PM
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