Consider Kenya, Summer 2007

It’s an overwhelming thing to consider. “Should I do this? Am I actually going to travel to Kenya?” These were the thoughts running marathons through my head as I sat watching my flight taxi into the gate. I looked around, alone, saw the faces of my fellow travelers and then felt mine sink. “What the hell have I done?”

I could make a hackneyed attempt at telling you what I did at Mama na Dada and Namunyak Maasai Welfare, respectively. I could tell you of the people, the gorgeous landscapes, the sweeping hills, or how all the clouds in the wide expanse of space above all seemed to be rushing from the further reaches of the planet to this singular place. I could tell you all of this, yet still you would not truly understand. And that is exactly the answer. What I have done is found an understanding. An understanding of the world, of relationships, of genuine love and community. And, perhaps most importantly, of struggle. Not in its expected form, however. The lifelong struggles of disease, drought, exploitation, and government corruption have grown roots in the soil of this place. From these roots have grown its people. The men, women, and children are all leaders, eager to find direction in the mud and mire of their under-developed homeland.

At Mama na Dada I arrived like some kind of celebrity. In the States, in the city, if you were to greet a stranger on the street, the best you could get is a returned sense of aversion. Everyone that met me wanted to know my name, where I was from, wanted to shake or hold my hand. They want to know you! There’s no suspicion, no hidden agendas, no aversion to speak of whatsoever. They are reaching out, trying to find direction in this beacon of hope: you.

So often I wanted to pick up one of the kids at the Mama na Dada Day Care Centre or Namunyak Maasai and never let go. I did not know their language, but you grow to realize that those things don’t matter. Come as you are and you will learn even more about what that truly means, what you mean to the world and to the individuals who suffer from it. There will invariably be some trepidation maybe even some hesitation when confronted with these realities. Some kids may not want you to jostle them into your arms at any given chance. Just know that it is your presence alone that is the utmost blessing. It may not seem like it was that hard to get there, but to get out is the struggle. You serve to those kids, and to everyone, as an example, as a personification of freedom, of moral strength and integrity. You may not have known it, but your nationality has bought you strength. Its youre responsibility as a human being to live it and to share it.

This lesson was never more clearly learned than from Emmanuel Leina Tasur, director of operations and projects at Namunyak Maasai Welfare. When I thought to go there, many past volunteers and others looked at me like I was crazy. “I heard that there wasn’t much going on there.” “Those Maasai are wild!” was what one Kenyan even told me. This convoluted notion of the Maasai is something that precedes their magnificent strength, once more, signaled by their presence alone.

Indeed, when I arrived, I was shocked. However, I was offered an opportunity. In the vast landscape I found in front of me, I found a total completeness and complete emptiness. These antithetical notions were not battling with one another, rather they were existing as just that: notions. My mind needed to understand this place. As I grew closer to Emmanuel, his wife Lillian, his three kids, their cousins and all of the guests that would come by every day that feeling of emptiness faded away. It was not Maasailand that was empty, it was me, still searching, still applying notions where they need not be. I just needed to be, with the same genuine quality the Maasai inhabit that remains unchanged throughout history.

As contrived as it may sound, the past two and a half months in Kenya, I have learned to love. Not only all of my new friends and surrogate families, but also myself. In this world, we think that we can find the answer to happiness in impulses, capital gain, boyfriends and girlfriends, but we cant. I campaigned with Emmanuel and taught sexual health education and creative writing at Mama na Dada with Daniel Rateng. Have I ever even considered doing any of those things before? The answer my friends, is no. It wasn’t until I dared to just be and exist in an environment that supported a goal of individual empowerment that I realized true happiness and success.

Reward comes when you use an opportunity to take a risk. The ultimate reward comes when you do it for someone else.

Epilogue:

September, 2007
Los Angeles, CA

Just yesterday I ran into a Mexican man selling blankets door-to-door in the middle of summer. I held the door open for him to an apartment building and began to speak to him in Spanish. “No se te nota!” he said, referring to my rather un-mexican appearance. I told him that it was unfortunate that my Mexican background is so unapparent, that I am proud to be Mexican. He was stupefied. “You are the first person who I have heard say that in the 6 years that I have been in this country,” he told me.

Now, you may be wondering what my point is so I’ll just tell you. This man was selling blankets to doors that were, I’m sure, routinely shut on his face as we sweated through the streets of L.A. Before that he did hard labor in a plastics factory, construction work, and gardening before that. He did all this for his family back home, suffering under a corrupt government regime, poverty, and strife, and now Hurricane Felix. So just remember, when you travel, you bring your culture with you. Make sure you know what that means before you watch your plane taxi to your gate wondering what the hell you have done. And take pride in what that means, because if you don’t, no one will, and your roots will just get stuck in the mud and mire that keeps you caught up in a notion of happiness. Instead just remember: all you have to do is be.