The scent of transition

Update #2: The scent of transition

July 13, 2007

Hey dear friends,

I hope you have been well. Thank you to those who have been in touch through these two weeks of transition, your kind words and exciting updates always make me smile. Thanks for visiting my blog. Since I am incapable for formatting all the pictures are at the end of this update, so read, and then scroll down for some images.

Hope you enjoy this update from the last two weeks in Kenya and Uganda.

Airplanes have a sanitized smell, a combination of rubbing alcohol, dentist office, and perfume at the lobby of a fancy hotel. It feels almost as if before you travel to another place you must be sanitized of past memories, prepared to face new realities. The hours on the plane, engulfed by perfect strangers, recycled air, salty food, and movies, act as a buffer zone between realities among which we travel. It is a strange sensation really. Slowly the smell of sweetened coffee and library books fades, and I start to think about returning to East Africa. The nice Canadian woman next to me is going to Africa for the first time, and since I have been a few times, she asks “is it true, that once you go to Africa, you always come back, that it is in your blood?” I look around the plane and think to myself that on this full flight to Nairobi, each person has a very different reason for going. I am reminded of an interesting conversation with Pierre that the so-called “Africa bug” really misses, the point, we all have our own reasons for going places, and simplifying the reasons is like erasing stories. I also remember the saying that foreigners in Africa usually fit into three categories, missionaries, mercenaries, and misfits. And so I try to think of my reasons. I come here because I love it. I enjoy the challenge, the raw humanity, the realness of it all. And perhaps I fit in all three categories. My mission: the reintegration of former child soldiers into happy and healthy communities. The payment: a sense of self-worth, of deserving all the love and wonderful people in my life. The feeling of not fitting in because sadly we live in a world where idealism is naïve and criticism is applaud above the struggle for solutions. I think of my reasons. Some are altruistic – helping children, others are selfish – I feel more alive, some are brave – I want to face trauma alongside those who have no support, others are cowardice – it is easier to run away than risk losing real happiness. And so, on the plane, over the endless sands of Sudan, I say thank you for the opportunity to return to Africa, and hope to learn and learn and learn, and also to serve.

A few hours later, I arrive in Nairobi and my dear friend Rochelle and her house-mate Abdi pick me up at the airport. As we drive around Nairobi, there is a citrus tinge of nostalgia in the air. You peel an orange and for the first few minutes there is that invigorating strong smell. I have so many good memories of this city, and it is both wonderful and challenging to start my journey here. I spend a lot of time in Nairobi doing errands and meeting friends. I meet my dear friends Ruth, Carol, and Tasiana. It is always so lovely to see them, all three are so hard-working and intelligent and contribute to their society is such meaningful ways. We sit around and chat for a long time and I am intrigued by the conversation. The girls explain to me that some young couples in Nairobi have started having “invitation only weddings,” in attempt to prevent having to feed and entertain two villages, which is quite expensive. This makes a lot of sense. Yet, a few minutes later, when we discuss the possibility of the girls coming to visit me in Uganda, a suggestion that they can come in December, is completely over-ruled: the holidays are time for family, to be spent in the village, as dictated by tradition. This conversation over soda and chips in the bustling modern metropolis that is Nairobi is a small window to the delicate balances, complexities and intricacies of ongoing cultural and social change. Besides learning so much, I mostly enjoy being with the girls because we talk about the news, work, love, families, and who has gained weight and why…I love these times because beyond circumstances, color, and experiences we can sit for an hour and share so much in common. At night, before I go to sleep, I feel this deep connection to family and friends I love, new people I will meet, and wonderful people that are out there I will never know. While all alone in a place far far away, I feel oddly together, instead of feeling alone amongst company. I fall asleep smelling jasmine (though I know there is no Jasmine anywhere since Rochelle told me she plans on planting some), and it is a comforting, an over-powering scent of love and longing that puts me to sleep with a smile and a sigh.

Throughout the week, I have meetings with different people at Strathmore University in Nairobi. A friend of mine, Martin, is working there for the summer, and has put me in touch with some key leaders in the university to discuss a potential education project in Kibera, East Africa’s largest informal settlement, where despite being right in the heart of Nairobi there are barely any sanitation, health, and social services. The main aim of the project is creating a mentorship program for youth in Kibera. The idea is that instead of preaching prevention of negative behaviors, which often encourages youth to rebel, we can facilitate positive experiences that enable youth to envision a better future for themselves, one that inspires them to take care of themselves and each other. A mentor in a young person’s life can provide that support, encouragement, and opportunity for positive experiences. People at Strathmore are wonderfully cooperative and we begin some serious discussions about a potential project. One of the days I am at the university, a group of high school students from Kibera is graduating from a short course about writing business plans, offered to them through the community outreach program at the university. I am introduced as the guest of honor from Harvard, and I feel incredibly silly, as I am in complete awe of these young people. I know the challenges they face in Kibera, and yet here they are, smiling, dressed in their best clothes, proudly presenting business plans for a video shop, a juice company, a recycling initiative, a fashion store. I try to express my honor for being in their company, and I hope they see it because words are not enough. One of the students says he never imagined he would step inside a university, and I smile, this is exactly why a mentor program would be great, to help them dream of a better future. In a conversation with my friend Dan, who runs an NGO in Kibera, we ponder at the possibility that motivation, activated by the ability to envision a positive future, can overcome all the other difficult realities in their lives. A guest speaker inspires them by his own success story, from humble beginnings to a successful businessman, and encourages them to always give back to the community.

The next day I visit Kibera. Walking around Kibera I am reminded at how people here live. The tiny tin houses, the garbage, the smell of sewer, the crowds everywhere… and yet beyond all of it the beauty of the place. The kind people trying their best to make it in life. I remember what I told the youth from Kibera when I met them the day before: you can clean a place, build sewers and paint the walls, but what’s harder to change is people, character, motivation, values. People in Kibera, in general, are stripped of life’s luxuries and comfort, but are filled with experiences that build character, and that, no one can eve take away from them. While in the area, I visit the Kangata family and I am touched by their warm welcome, hospitality, and kindness. So much of the desire to do something meaningful for youth in Kibera comes from the love and respect for this family, and again, at a loss for words, I spend a few quiet hours, wonderful hours, and hope the joy I feel in my heart is contagious.

As I get on the bus to Kampala, Uganda, I say good bye to Rochelle and spend the first few hours processing the past week in Nairobi, a city that is vibrant and lively and entrepreneurial and changes every second as it grows with confidence. As Nairobi fades in the distance, and I begin to think about Uganda, a new place for me, and the many fascinating conversations with Rochelle and Abdi about the challenges of working in conflict situations with youth. I am both excited and anxious about the unknown. As I fall asleep on the bus, I sense a new and intriguing smell in transition. A smell one wishes to identify but can’t quite pinpoint, like walking into a perfume shop and not being to locate the heavenly smell that drew you in, or driving fast by a restaurant and never knowing what delicious meal is beyond the tantalizing of the senses. The smell lingers in uncertainty and as you struggle to remember it, to capture it, the scent has already passed, creating a liminal space for the imagination to bloom.

My reception from Windle Trust in Kampala is absolutely wonderful. Everyone, and especially Karen, my new colleague, is kind, welcoming, and patient. I spend most of the week doing errands, getting a bank account, my phone to work, documents for a work permit, etc. I also begin to learn more about the project and am getting very excited about the work to do in Gulu. People in Uganda are incredibly friendly and also very proud, and I like the combination. Already in my first week, I have the very cool experience of visiting the parliament building. It is a modest building and security is lax. It is actually nice for a government building to be accessible, I mean, why should a government for and by the people not be accessible and humble? I meet Betty Ocan Aol, the parliament member from Gulu, and she tells me about her work, her family, and the situation in Gulu. She tells me about more sons and daughters than I can remember, and although she already takes care of her late brother’s and sister’s children, she has absolutely no question in her mind that from today henceforth I am also her daughter and there is always a place for me in her home. I am humbled by her generosity.

On the way back to the office from parliament, I take a boda-boda, which is a motorcycle taxi. In Kampala there is always a traffic jam, and so an alternative to the shared mini vans that act as busses, are the boda-boda, which avoid traffic by squeezing between it…
It is still early morning and the sun is coming up over the Kampala hills with a kind pink light that adorns the hills and the people, before the sun intensifies and all the details are washed in brightness. Children in pressed uniforms walk along the sidewalks, as do adults looking sharp and smart, some in Western business attire and others in colorful African fabrics. The fancy new cars share the road with a boda-boda that speeds by me carrying about 40 live chickens, sticking out from all sides of the motorcycle, just as outside the fancy modern supermarket in town, young men on bicycles offer fish and sugar cane. There is dust, smoke, exhaust, and morning freshness in the air. I look around and I feel great. I love the warmth here, and not of the weather but the people. I admire the resilience, and not against change, but instead along side it. I take a deep breath, in this beautiful and kind city of contrasts and change, and I recognize the mixture of scents: the smell of possibility.

On Tuesday, I will travel to Gulu to begin my work there, and I am excited to begin settling in and working. I am lucky because traveling awakens the senses, and for me in the past few weeks, has introduced the scent of transitions. I hope that wherever you are, you can take a moment to feel, to smell, to taste the world around us.

Thanks for being in my life,
Inbal

Pictures

Youth from Kibera and I at Strathmore University - Nairobi, Kenya

With the Kangata Family in Nairobi

The hills of Kampala, Uganda

The new super market in Kampala

The 'old' supermarket - fish aisle

Betty Ocan Aol and I in Parliament

The Ugandan Parliament

A friendly face while on errands in Kampala

The drive to town and the smell of possibility