Written 9/3/2014
There is an essay in our Orientation Booklet called “How to Write About Africa.” It is a satirical piece from an author who is absolutely sick of his continent being personified, simplified, exploited and stereotyped for a dusty place full of “huge herds of animals and tall, thin people who are starving.” It details some characters you must include if you write about the place: The Starving African (“who waits for the benevolence of the West”), the Bad Westerner (“blame the West for Africa’s situation. But do not be too specific”), and the celebrity activists and aid workers (who are “Africa’s most important people). And finally the author makes sure the reader knows to mention the light in Africa, particularly the red sunset and always ALWAYS “end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care.”
It is a ruthless essay that highlights crucial points about the way Westerners talk about Africa. And in my opinion, is a fantastic jumping off point for a semester where I will be studying development at an institutional and grassroots level. In the West, we are somewhat used to “voluntourism” in Africa being glorified, and until the blog posts started about white girls who travel to Africa for a new profile pic with a starving child they’ve so miraculously changed the life of, aid was a one-sided conversation.
Although that discussion feels like a slap in the face at times because in my more naive years (I refer to the present as my slightly-less-naive years) I’ve perpetrated some of these trends when writing about my time on the continent — we’ve all got to be called out on our shit. That is a rather brief way of putting it.
In respect to Mr. Binyavanga Wainaina and his fans, I will attempt to refrain from breaking any of his more poignant rules. But unfortunately, my readers may have to suffer through a paragraph or two about the African big red sunset because it is too damn beautiful. So here we go…
I met up with about 11 other students from my program in Amsterdam. We introduced ourselves over coffee and it all felt very adult. The flight was about 7 hours long and I was sitting closest to my friend Wyatt. When we received our Visa applications, he and I asked each other about a million questions over the aisle. Yes we were those people, sorry.
We landed in Nairobi at 8:15 p.m. Walking off the plane into the 65 degree Kenyan night was unreal. We were all delirious but managed to group up so we could go through immigration together. After an hour long wait, we were all through successfully and standing around with luggage carts like new Hogwarts students searching for Platform 9 3/4. Instead of a train, we walked out of Customs and into a crowd of taxi drivers waiting to pick up travelers. They all head cardboard signs with names in thick black marker. Over the crowd, a sign began to hop up and down. It read the exact words we were told to look for. The man holding the sign motioned to two people closer to us and within moments, Sabina, Victor, and Frances were by our side introducing themselves. In a whirl, they swiftly led us through the parking lot and onto the bus. The vehicle was barely large enough to fit us and our luggage, but we managed to squeeze. It was time to bond.
As soon as we were seated, Victor, one of the staff members, told us to decide amongst ourselves who would be in what apartments. I turned to the three girls I was sitting closest to and asked, “Want to be an apartment?” They nodded. I must say traveling with college students is much easier than high school.
We arrived at the apartment building to find our lovely apartments waiting for us and stocked with tea and eggs. Who needs anything more than tea and eggs?
Immediately, there were the little things that were different. There are locks on every door, including the bathrooms, kitchen, hallway, and bedrooms. There is an emergency light in case the power goes out, which it supposedly does often. There are bars over the clouded windows and water bottles as our only source of drinking water. But in addition, there is plenty of storage, a TV, a fully equipped kitchen, hot water, and more space than I’ve ever had in Washington, D.C. It is quite different than the canvas tents I lived out of last time. It is a darling apartment and I’m happy to be here the next few months.
Our orientation began this morning along with the arrival of an old friend— culture shock. I said to Bailey, a friend here who has visited India several times, that I don’t think culture shock itself gets any easier, but how to cope with it becomes more manageable. Once you’ve survived it once you know you can do it again. So when it gets hard, you can say, “Here I am experiencing culture shock. That’s all this is. It’ll pass. It is okay to feel this way.” She agreed and I felt better after sharing my confusions.
My perceptions of Nairobi are so fresh and naive, that I’m hesitant to write anything about the city from my first 24 hours here. We really only toured two places, which were our apartments and the school center. There is not a world of detail to provide you with. I can tell you two things with confidence: the indigo blooms on the Spring trees are one of the most fascinating colors I’ve ever seen in nature and the group of students I am with have got it going on. There is something truly special about our group and I hope we continue to thrive together.
"There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living."
- Nelson Mandela
There is an essay in our Orientation Booklet called “How to Write About Africa.” It is a satirical piece from an author who is absolutely sick of his continent being personified, simplified, exploited and stereotyped for a dusty place full of “huge herds of animals and tall, thin people who are starving.” It details some characters you must include if you write about the place: The Starving African (“who waits for the benevolence of the West”), the Bad Westerner (“blame the West for Africa’s situation. But do not be too specific”), and the celebrity activists and aid workers (who are “Africa’s most important people). And finally the author makes sure the reader knows to mention the light in Africa, particularly the red sunset and always ALWAYS “end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care.”
It is a ruthless essay that highlights crucial points about the way Westerners talk about Africa. And in my opinion, is a fantastic jumping off point for a semester where I will be studying development at an institutional and grassroots level. In the West, we are somewhat used to “voluntourism” in Africa being glorified, and until the blog posts started about white girls who travel to Africa for a new profile pic with a starving child they’ve so miraculously changed the life of, aid was a one-sided conversation.
Although that discussion feels like a slap in the face at times because in my more naive years (I refer to the present as my slightly-less-naive years) I’ve perpetrated some of these trends when writing about my time on the continent — we’ve all got to be called out on our shit. That is a rather brief way of putting it.
In respect to Mr. Binyavanga Wainaina and his fans, I will attempt to refrain from breaking any of his more poignant rules. But unfortunately, my readers may have to suffer through a paragraph or two about the African big red sunset because it is too damn beautiful. So here we go…
I met up with about 11 other students from my program in Amsterdam. We introduced ourselves over coffee and it all felt very adult. The flight was about 7 hours long and I was sitting closest to my friend Wyatt. When we received our Visa applications, he and I asked each other about a million questions over the aisle. Yes we were those people, sorry.
We landed in Nairobi at 8:15 p.m. Walking off the plane into the 65 degree Kenyan night was unreal. We were all delirious but managed to group up so we could go through immigration together. After an hour long wait, we were all through successfully and standing around with luggage carts like new Hogwarts students searching for Platform 9 3/4. Instead of a train, we walked out of Customs and into a crowd of taxi drivers waiting to pick up travelers. They all head cardboard signs with names in thick black marker. Over the crowd, a sign began to hop up and down. It read the exact words we were told to look for. The man holding the sign motioned to two people closer to us and within moments, Sabina, Victor, and Frances were by our side introducing themselves. In a whirl, they swiftly led us through the parking lot and onto the bus. The vehicle was barely large enough to fit us and our luggage, but we managed to squeeze. It was time to bond.
As soon as we were seated, Victor, one of the staff members, told us to decide amongst ourselves who would be in what apartments. I turned to the three girls I was sitting closest to and asked, “Want to be an apartment?” They nodded. I must say traveling with college students is much easier than high school.
We arrived at the apartment building to find our lovely apartments waiting for us and stocked with tea and eggs. Who needs anything more than tea and eggs?
Immediately, there were the little things that were different. There are locks on every door, including the bathrooms, kitchen, hallway, and bedrooms. There is an emergency light in case the power goes out, which it supposedly does often. There are bars over the clouded windows and water bottles as our only source of drinking water. But in addition, there is plenty of storage, a TV, a fully equipped kitchen, hot water, and more space than I’ve ever had in Washington, D.C. It is quite different than the canvas tents I lived out of last time. It is a darling apartment and I’m happy to be here the next few months.
Our orientation began this morning along with the arrival of an old friend— culture shock. I said to Bailey, a friend here who has visited India several times, that I don’t think culture shock itself gets any easier, but how to cope with it becomes more manageable. Once you’ve survived it once you know you can do it again. So when it gets hard, you can say, “Here I am experiencing culture shock. That’s all this is. It’ll pass. It is okay to feel this way.” She agreed and I felt better after sharing my confusions.
My perceptions of Nairobi are so fresh and naive, that I’m hesitant to write anything about the city from my first 24 hours here. We really only toured two places, which were our apartments and the school center. There is not a world of detail to provide you with. I can tell you two things with confidence: the indigo blooms on the Spring trees are one of the most fascinating colors I’ve ever seen in nature and the group of students I am with have got it going on. There is something truly special about our group and I hope we continue to thrive together.
"There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living."
- Nelson Mandela