If you have noticed, I haven’t chosen a typical study abroad destination. For a foreigner, living in the developing world comes with an intense change in lifestyle and an uncomfortable adjustment that I will later outline. When I shared with my family and friends that I would be studying in Nairobi, I often was asked, “Why?”
I wonder if I had chosen to study in Western Europe that the immediate response would be the same. I assume it wouldn’t be, and that’s okay, I get it. Even today, as I sit here in my furnished apartment with a balcony and TV, the only news the Western world is sharing about Africa is Ebola in the West, starvation in South Sudan, and genocide in the Central African Republic. Did I forget to mention political corruption and African leaders being charged for war crimes everywhere? Don’t get me wrong, these are important stories. But there is a lot more to this continent than bleakness.
There is a rich history— a history before colonialism that babies of the standardized Bush era learned nothing about. There is culture— cultures and languages that extend far beyond the stereotyped “tribes” of Africa. There are people— people who live in poverty and people who live like movie stars. There is nature— from the sand dunes of the Sahara to the forests of the Congo and the lakes of East Africa. There are beautiful places to see and ways of life to experience that I can’t embrace anywhere but here. You could say that about anywhere that isn’t where you’re from, but the place I’ve chosen this semester is Kenya.
Yes, it is challenging. It is vastly different than my life in the States. But I don’t feel like I’m on this planet to feel totally comfortable all the time. Not that I have some profound idealist destiny, because I don’t. My feet just keep walking in some sort of direction, my parents support me in doing so, and my head keeps saying that as an aspiring journalist there is an uber importance in learning about an under-reported part of the world. I’m really tired of reading articles that discuss Africa like it is a country. I’m in Kenya. I’ve spent a little bit of a time in Zambia, Mozambique, South Africa, and Swaziland and even in my brief introductions they are all very different places.
The more I blog the more I hope to paint an accurate picture of this city. As a reader, you have to keep in mind that I am an American and my account is that of an outsider. The Nairobi I see is clouded by my own culture and when I feel too much of the “Western perspective” leaking into my posts, I will be sure to point out that I am doing so. Please be patient as I learn and experiment and possibly go on for too long about things I didn’t set off intending to write a post about. Like this post.
Wasn’t I writing about culture shock? Well, that was a hell of a preface. Okay, here we go.
In my book, assimilation quite literally begins from the inside out. And as I’m sure you’ve experienced or heard, the exciting process of assimilation is not smooth sailing— I tend to be slapped in the face with culture shock. To describe it bluntly, since I’ve never seen it done so, here is a brief summary of how I experience this phenomena:
Pre-Phase: No Expectations. Literally, do not set any expectations because if you’re going to the developing world every preconceived notion is going to be flipped upside down on its head. It’s okay, it’s part of the deal and worth it.
Phase I: Retreat. The “honeymoon” stage that my Cross Cultural Professor taught does not last over 24 hours. In this stage, people sometimes become literally ill from homesickness or in my case, altitude sick. Nairobi is higher than Denver and I felt like a weak potato walking around the first few days. I also experienced some stomach problems due to change in diet. In addition to having to be extra careful about water, meat is prepared and cooked differently here. I am just now coming out of my week long vegetarian phase after a bad interaction with a piece of beef. But when it comes to the mindset part, it's just a baby phase that I tell myself I'm being a nut and it ends fast.
Phase II: Adjustment. HERE I AM AND I'M PUMPED ABOUT IT. I identify with this stage right now. For me, enforcing a routine that includes personal reflection time usually in the form of journaling, exercise, and making healthy food (next post!) helps me process. Running and lifting helped me acclimate to this altitude while food is one of the loves of my life and always makes me happy. These are my ibuprofens for culture shock. I'm so excited to write all all all about cooking and baking soon.
Phase III: Sense of Belonging to the Extent that a Foreigner Can. I’ll let you know when I get there. Let’s not be unrealistic— it has only been two weeks.
But when I’m there, I would love to send you a postcard! Check out my new tabs up top that connect you to a form where you can put in your address and a link to the blogs from other students on my program. I look forward to writing to you!
I wonder if I had chosen to study in Western Europe that the immediate response would be the same. I assume it wouldn’t be, and that’s okay, I get it. Even today, as I sit here in my furnished apartment with a balcony and TV, the only news the Western world is sharing about Africa is Ebola in the West, starvation in South Sudan, and genocide in the Central African Republic. Did I forget to mention political corruption and African leaders being charged for war crimes everywhere? Don’t get me wrong, these are important stories. But there is a lot more to this continent than bleakness.
There is a rich history— a history before colonialism that babies of the standardized Bush era learned nothing about. There is culture— cultures and languages that extend far beyond the stereotyped “tribes” of Africa. There are people— people who live in poverty and people who live like movie stars. There is nature— from the sand dunes of the Sahara to the forests of the Congo and the lakes of East Africa. There are beautiful places to see and ways of life to experience that I can’t embrace anywhere but here. You could say that about anywhere that isn’t where you’re from, but the place I’ve chosen this semester is Kenya.
Yes, it is challenging. It is vastly different than my life in the States. But I don’t feel like I’m on this planet to feel totally comfortable all the time. Not that I have some profound idealist destiny, because I don’t. My feet just keep walking in some sort of direction, my parents support me in doing so, and my head keeps saying that as an aspiring journalist there is an uber importance in learning about an under-reported part of the world. I’m really tired of reading articles that discuss Africa like it is a country. I’m in Kenya. I’ve spent a little bit of a time in Zambia, Mozambique, South Africa, and Swaziland and even in my brief introductions they are all very different places.
The more I blog the more I hope to paint an accurate picture of this city. As a reader, you have to keep in mind that I am an American and my account is that of an outsider. The Nairobi I see is clouded by my own culture and when I feel too much of the “Western perspective” leaking into my posts, I will be sure to point out that I am doing so. Please be patient as I learn and experiment and possibly go on for too long about things I didn’t set off intending to write a post about. Like this post.
Wasn’t I writing about culture shock? Well, that was a hell of a preface. Okay, here we go.
In my book, assimilation quite literally begins from the inside out. And as I’m sure you’ve experienced or heard, the exciting process of assimilation is not smooth sailing— I tend to be slapped in the face with culture shock. To describe it bluntly, since I’ve never seen it done so, here is a brief summary of how I experience this phenomena:
Pre-Phase: No Expectations. Literally, do not set any expectations because if you’re going to the developing world every preconceived notion is going to be flipped upside down on its head. It’s okay, it’s part of the deal and worth it.
Phase I: Retreat. The “honeymoon” stage that my Cross Cultural Professor taught does not last over 24 hours. In this stage, people sometimes become literally ill from homesickness or in my case, altitude sick. Nairobi is higher than Denver and I felt like a weak potato walking around the first few days. I also experienced some stomach problems due to change in diet. In addition to having to be extra careful about water, meat is prepared and cooked differently here. I am just now coming out of my week long vegetarian phase after a bad interaction with a piece of beef. But when it comes to the mindset part, it's just a baby phase that I tell myself I'm being a nut and it ends fast.
Phase II: Adjustment. HERE I AM AND I'M PUMPED ABOUT IT. I identify with this stage right now. For me, enforcing a routine that includes personal reflection time usually in the form of journaling, exercise, and making healthy food (next post!) helps me process. Running and lifting helped me acclimate to this altitude while food is one of the loves of my life and always makes me happy. These are my ibuprofens for culture shock. I'm so excited to write all all all about cooking and baking soon.
Phase III: Sense of Belonging to the Extent that a Foreigner Can. I’ll let you know when I get there. Let’s not be unrealistic— it has only been two weeks.
But when I’m there, I would love to send you a postcard! Check out my new tabs up top that connect you to a form where you can put in your address and a link to the blogs from other students on my program. I look forward to writing to you!