My brain is on overload. This was either delayed or I just realized it has been occurring for the past two months. Either way, I have had to repeat to myself over and over again, "I am in Kenya. I am in Kenya. I am in KENYA!" because my mind does not seem to believe it, even now. It seems that despite living here for two months with my mosquito bitten ankles, frizzy hair, and dirty feet, it is still hard for me to swallow...even when the reality is written all over my body. Perhaps it is because the reality here is so harsh, so different, so much less sterile than the realities I had been living in before. My western norms are being pushed all over the place to make room for all of the new information that is settling within me: new norms for friendships, new norms for what good teaching is, new norms for what poverty is, new norms for what struggle is.
I visited an informal settlement in Mombasa called Kibarani last week. It is located across the street from the massive garbage dump where much of the trash from the city goes. Early every morning, the people of Kibarani get up and go meet the trucks at the dump site in order to salvage whatever they can to repair and sell. I have read books about people who make their livelihoods from the trash of others, but had never met the people or seen it in action. Never before have I seen babies whose bottoms are wrapped in rags first and then in a diaper so that any feces is caught in the rag in order to preserve the diaper. If the baby urinates, the diaper is hung out on the line to dry and reused the next day. Never have I seen piles of black muck scooped out of ditches alongside the road and piled on the path. I walked by it, its acrid stench wafting everywhere and guessing, but hoping it wasn't human waste like I thought it was. It's as if all of these things my mind knew to be true are being thrust into my heart and I'm realizing that I never really understood these things at all and probably never will. I am being forced to face my ignorance and let me tell you, it is not pretty.
I heard somewhere that Mother Teresa said that every morning, you should smile into the mirror and just say "Yes." So today, I am saying, "Yes, I do not know Swahili. Yes, I am ignorant about the struggles that Kenyans are facing. Yes, I have no idea why I am here. Yes, I am struggling. And yes, the struggle is good."