I landed in Africa for the first time and had quite an unexpected euphoric experience. As the EK721 flight descended I quickly jumped into the vacant window seat next to me to get a better view. All I could think was " wow... I'm actually landing in mother Africa" my eyes welled and my heart pounded harder and harder in my chest with the anticipation of connecting with the "homeland".
I always pondered on the rhetoric of Marcus Garvey and others and thought home for me was Trinidad and Tobago. I must now confess that Trinidad is more like the house where I live and Africa is the bed in which I rest.
I arrived on the night of April 10th. Albanas greeted me with a warm smile and took me off into the night life of Nairobi as we headed for the Hilton. I stayed the night there and had unexpected company of a good spirit share my nest for the night. At first I jumped when I felt its presence and then I reminded myself of where I was and opened myself to its return. I managed to slept the whole night through.
Anyone who knows me knows that I have absolutely no sense of direction. So it was no surprise to me that when I came out the wash room of the arrivals hall at the airport I turned myself around trying to find the exit. As I finally found it I was faced with my first of many interesting dialogues with a Kenyan.
"Stop!" He said as I purposefully aimed for the exit. I, of course stopped in my tracks with much bewilderment.
" Where are you going and why are you here?" He questioned as if he had the right to do so. I then scrutinized him carefully because he was not dressed in any official wear to warrant the intrusion.
" and who are you exactly?"
" oh I am sorry sistah, I am the police" and he raises his ID for me to see. He then apologized for scaring me and assured me that he wanted to help because I looked so confused walking around in circles. This was my introduction to the Kenyan personality of wanting to always help and support in a moment of seeming uncertainty.
April 11th brought a fair share of new lessons and eye opening experiences. Albanas took me to sites the first being the infamous Kibera Slums.
Even as I write the word infamous I cringe. You would think such a place would no longer exists because of its infamous status. Stepping into the Kibera slums also known as chocolate age for its mud caked dwellings and rusted galvanized roofs, conjures up an array of emotions for me. The first being a mound of anxiety as I process how the hell I'm going to make it up and down the path ahead.
We were on a mission to find the VGF GEMS Kibera School. It's a new school and no one seemed to now where it was. Albanas pressed on anyway and finally after many muddy tracks and encounters of very eager to help but essentially helpless locals I entered an Internet cafe. Now for any of you that may have just envisioned an Internet cafe as you know it please erase that image from your mind. This is literally a whole in the wall with the most prehistoric computer you will find anywhere. Nonetheless, the mission was accomplished on said dinasors. I got the email I needed that informed me that I will be meeting students and teachers on Monday and the exact location was sorted out. At that point, Ben Blaq "with a Q" one of the several useless helpers said his good yes and we were off to the National State Park to visit with the Masai.
The visit to the National State Museum was short and sweet. I was mainly interested in catching a glimpse of the Masai. These men work at the museum and are happy to dress you and include you in a moment of Masai traditional chant, dance then jump. Of course I got all in d people ting and had a blast!
Later that evening the final stop for the day was the shopping for more things in this world that I don't need. Anyway, I did so with much excitement and managed to learn a thing or two. Now I learnt the name of the East African drum when our Week Without Walls London trip went to a drumming workshop in February . This drum originates from Senegal I believe and it is called the GNOME drum. So here I am in this souvenir shop in Nairobi and walk straight into said drum. Of course the name escapes me and I am asking the workmen the name of the drum. Needless to say the dialogue turned into yet another experience!
I always pondered on the rhetoric of Marcus Garvey and others and thought home for me was Trinidad and Tobago. I must now confess that Trinidad is more like the house where I live and Africa is the bed in which I rest.
I arrived on the night of April 10th. Albanas greeted me with a warm smile and took me off into the night life of Nairobi as we headed for the Hilton. I stayed the night there and had unexpected company of a good spirit share my nest for the night. At first I jumped when I felt its presence and then I reminded myself of where I was and opened myself to its return. I managed to slept the whole night through.
Anyone who knows me knows that I have absolutely no sense of direction. So it was no surprise to me that when I came out the wash room of the arrivals hall at the airport I turned myself around trying to find the exit. As I finally found it I was faced with my first of many interesting dialogues with a Kenyan.
"Stop!" He said as I purposefully aimed for the exit. I, of course stopped in my tracks with much bewilderment.
" Where are you going and why are you here?" He questioned as if he had the right to do so. I then scrutinized him carefully because he was not dressed in any official wear to warrant the intrusion.
" and who are you exactly?"
" oh I am sorry sistah, I am the police" and he raises his ID for me to see. He then apologized for scaring me and assured me that he wanted to help because I looked so confused walking around in circles. This was my introduction to the Kenyan personality of wanting to always help and support in a moment of seeming uncertainty.
April 11th brought a fair share of new lessons and eye opening experiences. Albanas took me to sites the first being the infamous Kibera Slums.
Even as I write the word infamous I cringe. You would think such a place would no longer exists because of its infamous status. Stepping into the Kibera slums also known as chocolate age for its mud caked dwellings and rusted galvanized roofs, conjures up an array of emotions for me. The first being a mound of anxiety as I process how the hell I'm going to make it up and down the path ahead.
We were on a mission to find the VGF GEMS Kibera School. It's a new school and no one seemed to now where it was. Albanas pressed on anyway and finally after many muddy tracks and encounters of very eager to help but essentially helpless locals I entered an Internet cafe. Now for any of you that may have just envisioned an Internet cafe as you know it please erase that image from your mind. This is literally a whole in the wall with the most prehistoric computer you will find anywhere. Nonetheless, the mission was accomplished on said dinasors. I got the email I needed that informed me that I will be meeting students and teachers on Monday and the exact location was sorted out. At that point, Ben Blaq "with a Q" one of the several useless helpers said his good yes and we were off to the National State Park to visit with the Masai.
Later that evening the final stop for the day was the shopping for more things in this world that I don't need. Anyway, I did so with much excitement and managed to learn a thing or two. Now I learnt the name of the East African drum when our Week Without Walls London trip went to a drumming workshop in February . This drum originates from Senegal I believe and it is called the GNOME drum. So here I am in this souvenir shop in Nairobi and walk straight into said drum. Of course the name escapes me and I am asking the workmen the name of the drum. Needless to say the dialogue turned into yet another experience!
No comments:
Post a Comment