Monday, February 9, 2009

Changes

I’m sure most of you reading this are old enough to remember when playgrounds were actually fun. Sure, they may have been full of bare metal and sharp edges with a lovely base of hot asphalt to cushion any falls, but they had a certain charm to them. Modern day “new and improved” playgrounds have sapped every ounce of fun out of the experience. Now everything is made of hypoallergenic plastics, slides are no longer capable of delivering burns to exposed flesh, and my favorite playground toy, the merry-go-round (the kind that was manually-powered by the fastest kid in the group and would leave you dizzy, nauseous, and grinning), has become extinct because it was deemed too dangerous by overprotective moms. That’s how I think of Kenya and America; Kenya may be “dangerous,” but it sure is fun.

I now realize how sheltered and coddled I’ve been back in America. The news and media back home love to keep people in fear because fear sells: “Something in your pantry can kill you and your family. What is it? Find out on Channel 6 Action News at 11.” Everything back at home feels so sterile and tame now. I think it’s even possible to be too safe. Little kids aren’t even allowed to play out in the woods by themselves these days. You’re labeled a bad parent if you allow your children to “play outside and come back by dark,” something which was a large part of my childhood and I couldn’t imagine growing up without.

Why? Because everyone is scared of threats that don’t exist or have been blown completely out of proportion. I’m sure there were just as many child molesters riding around in nondescript white vans and praying on children when I was growing up, but back then we didn’t have Chris Hansen and To Catch a Predator to shock us into thinking everyone might potentially be a pervert. Think you’re above thinking that way? Imagine you see a single middle aged man taking pictures of little kids in a park. It’s a totally benign and innocent act, but tell me that the thought wouldn’t cross your mind, even for a second, that the guy was sleazy and had impure motives. I’m guilty of thinking that way myself, and it’s a sad state of affairs to have “guilty until proven innocent” be our default way of going about life.

Nairobi has the unwelcome distinction of being the most dangerous city in Africa, which makes it a serious contender for most dangerous city in the world. This place makes the dodgy parts of L.A. look like a country club. Murders, carjackings, robberies: All a part of daily life. They even have a term for it: Nairobbery. I’ve witnessed at least two beat-downs since I’ve been here, and they were both pretty brutal. Not the “Bro, I’m gonna kick your ass so hard” crap I’ve seen back home in bars. I’m talking about terrifying ex-convict looking types with knife scars and tattoos going to work on a guy with a metal pipe, the kind of beating where you know the guy on the receiving end is going to be deformed for life, assuming he’s lucky to escape with his life in the end at all. Over here, life is cheap and hard, and I’ve seen this saying be proven time and time again. Even though I’ve only been here two weeks, I’ve already noticed changes in my own personality.

Living in Nairobi and working in the slums of Kawangwana has hardened me. I think about that quote from Fight Club, the one about showing up made of dough and leaving carved of wood. I’m more of a man now because of what I am seeing and doing. Life here is a sensory onslaught and it’s impossible not to be affected in some way. Here it’s either eat or be eaten. In a city where more than half the population is unemployed, it’s survival of the fittest. I’ve realized how thin the veneer of so-called “civilization” really is, and how easily it’s stripped away when you’re hungry and desperate. In this city you’ll never go anywhere unless you jump out in front of moving traffic and you’ll get ripped off unless you act like a bit on a jerk and drive a hard bargain. That’s just the way things are around here.

I think about some people in the States, effeminate metrosexual hipsters, spoiled brats who’ve never been pushed or challenged in their lives. I seethe with a strange sort of rage when I think about them these days. I want to start fist fights with them. I hate them a little bit now. I’ve heard similar sentiments from my friends in the military towards civilians; I guess hardship truly does build character. I want to tell them that their whining and complaining about their life on MySpace is trivial and petty compared to what most people around the world face. Did your emo girlfriend forget to buy My Chemical Romance tickets online and now the show is sold out? That’s the biggest problem in your life?! Boo ‘effing Hoo. Try telling an 8 year old kid he’s HIV positive and will likely die before he’s old enough to buy his first beer. I’ve had similar feelings while doing my EMS training in the streets of inner-city Durham and walking around Carrboro afterwards, but now the feelings are intense.

I have less tolerance for bullshit and beating around the bush. I’m more efficient and direct now. I think about how I used to placate, to not rock the boat and let people walk over me. That’s stopping here and now. I’m more confident, independent, and little bit wiser. I’m glad I cut my teeth in other major cities before coming here. New York, Berlin, Istanbul, even New Delhi don’t compare to the chaos that is Nairobi. They all feel like training for this place. I’m constantly reminded of how wasteful I’ve been. You don’t appreciate how much water is involved in a toilet flush until you have to fill the tank up by hand. When I get back, I’m sure I’ll complain less about things that don’t really matter in the big scheme of things. I realize now what is truly important in life and will take less for granted. I feel my priorities have been readjusted for the better.

But you know what? Despite the violence and dust, the ubiquitous poverty and corruption, I’m happy and satisfied here in a way I don’t know I’ve ever felt before. I’m already sad I have to return to a world filled with ennui and boredom, a culture of celebrity gossip on TV and other trivialities and distractions designed to kill time everywhere else. Ask yourself some questions: When was the last time you truly feared for your life? When was the last time you were challenged and came out the other end realizing you had the ability to surprise even yourself? When was the last time you went on an honest-to-goodness adventure?

What I’m doing here and now isn’t out of your reach. I’m not some extraordinary person; I just chose to position myself in a situation where the extraordinary is more likely to find me. Sure, it took a bit of time and money, but if you want it bad enough, you can make it happen. Over here I have purpose. Here I am driven. Here I feel truly alive. And I’m already making plans for my next trip…

Whoever you are: some evening, take a step
Out of your house, which you know so well.
Enormous space is near…
-Rilke

P.S. Abba, thank you so much for the book. I read the entire thing in a couple of sittings. It was the perfect book for where I am right now, both geographically and in my life. I found myself nodding along to much of what he was saying. The book I’m referring to, for those of you who are curious, is Travels by Michael Crighton, and I highly recommend it.

3 comments:

  1. A friend of mine sent me your blog, and I must say that I am very impressed with your mission.

    This post, specifically, touched me in a way that I was not expecting. Everything that you have experienced, is something that I am expecting, and knowing that I am going to be getting myself into in India. This is what keeps me awake at night. Going to work with trafficking victims is scary and exhilerating, simultaneously.

    We are too comfortable as Americans... too blind... too deaf... too numb to what's going on outside ofo ur living rooms with our laptop computers and our 400 channels of cable that we will never watch 3/4 of.

    I live for the metal playground that gives you second degree burns on back of your thighs when you go down the slide. I want to swing high and jump off. I want the shit scared out of me. This is how we know we're alive.

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  2. Aamir thats great stuff man. Good luck and safe travels.

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