A few things about life: final reflection on MYSA

*This entry contains some explicit descriptions that may be difficult to read*

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I saw a lot of disturbing things over the past month. I saw extreme poverty, hunger, and violence. I saw suffering, illness, and death. Once, I saw a little girl get run over by a bicycle, sending the small canister of food she was holding fly about twenty feet through the air. Another time, I saw two men fighting. One hit the other in the face, sending him reeling into the street as a huge truck was speeding by. I didn't see the impact because I was passing on a bus, but I heard it. I'm not sure if he lived.

Every day, I saw small children huffing glue out of dirty bottles to stifle their hunger and give them the courage to ask strangers for money so they could extend life one more day. Every day, I saw at least one person lying on the side of the road or in a trash pile who very well could have been dead. I had many tense encounters with people drunk out of their minds on chang'aa, an illegal liquor which causes blindness or death in many of its users. I saw little kids playing in streams and muddy roads full of trash, diseased animals, and human feces.

I saw many things that made me question life and the order of things in this world. But I also heard laughter everywhere I went. I saw the smiles and friendly handshakes of neighbors who rely on each other's business to live. I realized that children will play no matter what situation they are forced to endure. I saw more children playing together than I've ever seen in my life.

Now when I see the slums and the hard life and the pain, I no longer feel like crying the way I did at first. Because I've met and lived with the people who reside there. I've seen the motivation and incredible potential of young people who have very defined goals and dreams.

MYSA has opened a lot of doors to these aspirations. I almost cried in the middle of several video interviews I did with my friends when they said things like "I just want to act. I know I have talent and I want people to see that. I want to make a difference" or "What impact has MYSA and Haba na Haba had on the people of Mathare? Well, you can start with me. I love music and I've always had a talent for it and now I'm doing it. Without MYSA, I might be selling drugs, stealing, or even dead." My friend Bonface told me that most of the kids he grew up with were hanged for stealing or are spending the rest of their lives in jail.

I have never seen anything make as tangible of a difference as this organization. I physically see the impact it has when I pass the kid sniffing glue on my way to a rehearsal where hundreds of other kids have given it up to sing and dance together. Football, dance, music, and drama have given these kids something to look forward to every day. And with the performing arts, it's educating the community at the same time.

At this point, I don't know what else to say. I have so many images and words floating around in my head that just don't make sense written down right now. I know these things will continue to make me think for months and even years to come.

In an e-mail to my dad, I realized that this month has taught me more about humanity and myself than any other component of the trip, even if it wasn't necessarily the most unique experience (compared to hunter/gatherers, pastoralists, drinking goat's blood, the rainforest, etc.). I had a lot of alone time in complete silence that forced me to think about many things related to the experience and about the future, home, and why I'm doing what I'm doing.

I'm now back at the compound in Karen relaxing, putting up a fake Christmas tree and listening to Christmas music in an attempt to make the transition back to the States a little easier. A strange and complex feeling is settling in as I prepare to say goodbye to this place and to my St. Lawrence friends (who I've lived with for five months, so that will be anything but easy) and to re-unite with my family, friends, and Julia. Hopefully I will get a chance to write something again before I leave, but if not, kwaherini na ninapenda nyinyi.

Going into my last week at MYSA

The 20th Anniversary celebration went off pretty well, despite terrible weather and a field full of mud. Unfortunately, we didn't get to perform due to the coniditions. Everything was outside and the ground was too dangerous for the dancers and acrobats. Hopefully, we'll get to perform this Saturday when we do one of the community outreach programs.

The Norwegian combined piece actually turned out pretty nicely and is a really neat sampling of both cultures. I feel pretty ridiculous doing both, but I'm enjoying it thoroughly.

The other night, we all went out to a bar then to a club called Florida 2000. I had a great time, despite accidentally dancing with one prostitute and getting harrassed and hit on by at least three others. That was weird.

We went to a play in Nairobi on Sunday, which was really nice and the first piece of theater on a stage I've really seen since the Globe. I had dinner that night with one of the guys from Haba na Haba and we had a really good personal conversation. I'm really starting to feel like a part of the group and their friend now, rather than that bearded guy from the U.S. who's volunteering with MYSA.

Yesterday, I had the day off and spent three hours wading through archives at the national newspaper headquarters. I found all kinds of really messed up, but interesting stories about these gangs I'm researching. I set up an interview with an investigative journalist for next Monday and I'm hoping to talk to my government professor as well.

Things are going well and I'm realizing how sad I'll be to leave this place. But I'm equally excited about coming home again. I was just cast in a play for next semester and I'm super pumped! The role actually might require me to keep growing my beard, which would be really funny. Anyway, better run. I need to eat.

Rediscovering the Guitar

12/1 12:29 a.m. Umoja apartment

I just played guitar with the nicest man named Poppi for about two hours. Most
of the time we just played. We didn't even need to talk, we just communicated
through our music. He grew up in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (then Zaire) and his father refused to let him pursue music. He insisted that Poppi study math, which he did until his father passed away. Now he is a briliant musician and plays in a band but is currently attending school, so doesn't have as much time to play. We played some relaly laid back jazz and I rediscovered some nice progressions and even taught him one he really liked. His soloing style is beautiful and when I
asked him about it, he said he simply plays from the structure of the chords starting from different places on the neck. It's wonderful how nights like this one just seem to happen over here. I am truly rediscovering the guitar.

Norwegian funniness

11/30 7 p.m. Umoja apartment

Rehearsals for Saturday's 20th Anniversary celebration with the Norwegian drama group have been really interesting. One big part of that is the three languages being thrown around (Swahili, English, Norwegian) and I'm still not used to the extreme lack of organization.

And anytime I try to suggest something to Haba na Haba during their discussions in rehearsal (similar to Whisper business), they start talking about it in rapid Swahili slang so I can't understand it and add input or explain myself better if they're misunderstanding me.

The Norwegian situation is a bit stressful because they don't understand the culture as well as I do and I see miscommunications happening all the time, but never feel like it's my place to say anything. One good example is the original attempt to play syncopated African drums to a 3/4 count Norwegian folk song, which I immediately knew would end in disater. And it did...with all of us doing a funny little line dance kicking thing to a completely different rhythm from either of the other existing two (the drums and the singing) and people tripping over themselves in a comic mess. Then the Norwegians would speak rapid Norwegian to each other and the Kenyans would yell rapid Swahili to each other and I would just kind of mumble to myself in English, trying to hide a grumpy face.

Our attempt at blending traditional dances from both cultures and performing a combined skit about a king (which makes very little sense) drags on for at least half an hour. Then, we were trying to figure out a way to wrap it all up after the song that closes the skit and someone suggested having each individual person (there are about 20 of us) do an individual dance in the middle before exiting. Some of the Norwegians interpreted this as dancing the polka into the middle in pairs,
then re-joining the line. The next 20 minutes or so consisted of a confused debacle where the Kenyans took turns shaking their butts in front of our half-assed semicircle line thing while some of the Norwegians did sporadic little polka jigs, sometimes in pairs and sometimes alone. Then at some point, someone decided we should exit and led everyone out in a sort of follow-the-leader kanga line thing. Then there was some more incomprehensible foreign babble and the Norwegians had to leave so they wouldn't hit rush hour traffic.

The whole ordeal was bizarre. But honestly, this sort of thing barely even stands out over here. I honestly am hardly phased anymore. Despite my cynicism, the cultural dancing stuff is really neat and we have a good time together. And hey, I learned the polka. Julia, get ready :)

In other news, I went to the National Archives and the Daily Nation Media Centre today to research for my paper on slum violence, gangs, Mungiki, and chang'aa. I continue to find more and more fascinating information on the dynamics of this volatile situation. The Haba na Haba people have been extremely helpful and I've interviewed about five of them about personal experiences and observations. I've also done several videoed interveiews about MYSA and the impact of Haba na Haba, which have really blown my mind. These kids have said some of the most inspirational things I've ever heard in my life and I'm really excited to attempt to create a promotional video when I return to the states.

Revelations

Do you ever wake up in the morning and all of a sudden, something makes sense that didn't before? Julia and I have discussed this and I'm not sure if we're the only ones. My brain has this weird way of processing things while I sleep, which comes in handy for memorizing lines, studying for tests, etc.

This morning I woke up and had maybe five revelations about different aspects of music theory. Teaching these kids guitar and theory has really got me learning it all again. I've been mulling things over in my brain and suddenly things are starting to fall into place like a puzzle. I'm starting to really understand (again) how scales fit together, how everything connects on the guitar, and exactly what goes into building a chord and how chords fit into scales. I understood the basics, but now more and more things are becoming clear every day. It's really neat.

In other news, a Norwegian drama group will be here working with us for the next two weeks. I have mixed feelings about it, but they're really nice and I think we'll have a good time. I'm pretty sure I'll actually be performing with Haba na Haba at the 20th anniversary celebration! I think I'm playing a warrior or something like that. This week is already moving at a better pace than last week and I'm starting to take care of business back home for next semester.

My feelings about returning home in three weeks are definitely mixed. I miss my friends, family, and Julia (dear God I miss her) a lot and I get really excited when I think about seeing them again, but I have a feeling I'll miss all of this more than I realize now. I really think I've found something that combines my passions in a way that makes a substantial difference. This is both exciting and scary. Because now I need to do something about it. And I'm not exactly sure what that is yet.

Anyway, I better run. My guitar students are here.

A truly blessed Thanksgiving

Last week seemed like an eternity for some reason, but things went pretty well. The workshops went better than I had hoped and I think they really enjoyed the exercises we did.

I think my favorite was the "characterization" workshop on Thursday, which happened to be Thanksgiving. I started by talking for awhile about different Acting Theory like objective, actions, given circumstances, and overcoming obstacles. I was worried these concepts would be too foreign and not necessarily applicable to the kind of work they do. But I was wrong. They embraced the ideas and asked questions, eager to understand better. I was really touched by their desire to learn new things.

At the end of the workshop, I had them perform monologues and performed one myself to show them the format. They had never heard of a monologue before. The work they did was beautiful. Some had memorized parts from skits they perform in the slums, but others had written pieces themselves. They were extremely brave and took direction well and seeing their work improve was incredibly satisfying.

At the end, I asked them to reflect on what they had learned, what was helpful and what wasn't. They actually really enjoyed the monologue exercise and claimed it helped them go deeper into the characters than they did before. To conclude the workshop, I explained the holiday Thanksgiving and what it represents in our culture. They usually pray in a circle after rehearsals, so I volunteered to offer the prayer as a closing to my week of workshops. We stood together in a circle with arms linked and I gave thanks to God for my new friends and the opportunity to learn together in order to make a difference.

That evening, I went back into Nairobi and joined some of the other students from the program doing their IDS in the city. We cooked a simple meal of macaroni and cheese, rolls, maize on the cob, and mixed vegetables. As we shared the food around a small coffee table in our humble little apartment, we went around and talked about those things for which we are thankful. Let me tell you, we had a lot to say. While I missed my family and friends terribly, I thanked God for the unique gathering and realized that this experience truly epitomized the holiday.

Some brief observations

So, it turns out Lulu and Jack weren't even playing pool when they were arrested. Lulu was waiting on the next game and police officers swarmed into the room cocking fully automatic weapons and making everyone lie flat on their stomachs. As I said before, they thought Jack was too young so they kicked him and slapped him around and made him go home. They did the same to the others before forcing them into the back of a truck in chains.

According to Jack, none of them were actually involved in any gang activity. Most of them were high school students. Most members of Mungiki aren't in school because they make money by "taxing" basic commodities like electricity. They also charge to use the few toilets that exist in Mathare and demand money for "security", claiming they protect the community. If you don't pay these things, they either steal your stuff or kill you.

Today I was in the heart of Mathare for the first time. It's very similar to Kibera, only it has a small dirty stream running through it. I went to visit my friend Alphonse at his house.

I could have built it myself. It was made of tin and wood and certainly leaks when it rains (which is all the time now). He told me he lives in this little room with just one friend. When I asked about his family, he said most kids move out of their home as soon as they can. He explained that sometimes five people will be living in one tiny room...two parents and multiple kids. The only thing separating the kids from the parents' bed is a hanging sheet. Therefore, the kids can hear everything their parents do in bed and "it can be uncomfortable", he says. Yeah, I would say so.

I wish I could go into more detail here about life in the slums, but I don't have time and I'm not sure I could adequately describe it if I tried.

Today the drama group performed for several hundred school kids who were extremely excited to see them. I videoed the whole performance this time and I'm hoping to put together a promotional video when I get home. Tomorrow, they're planning on holding a concert for peace in the middle of Mathare. I'm really interested to see how that turns out and I'm learning more and more every day.

More to come soon, I hope...

Life in the Mathare area

I'm giving guitar lessons to two kids named Jack and Lulu. Jack is 13 and Lulu is 16. They remind me a lot of myself when I was that age and learning guitar. They do things like try and play a scale too fast because they just want to learn it or play the same thing over and over, determined to get it right. Both of them are really smart, motivated, and eager to learn. They're also incredibly nice and easy-going kids.

On Friday, after the lesson, Lulu was arrested for playing pool at 2:00 in the afternoon for money. They decided Jack was too young to arrest, so they just kicked him around and sent him home. They locked Lulu away in a cell, claimed he was part of a gang called Mungiki, and demanded 200,000 Kenyan shillings as bail.

Two weeks ago, there was some pretty intense violence between two gangs in a nearby slum called Mathare. The gangs call themselves Mungiki and Taliban. Several people were killed and hundreds of homes were burned.

Now, security is extremely tight with a 7:00 p.m. curfew and many people have told me that police are arresting people (especially kids) with no real reason. They blame people for being involved with gangs based solely on their ethnicity or "tribe" or the fact that they're young.

There is no reason Lulu should have been arrested and definitely nothing that should make someone think he's part of a gang. I myself have played pool for money several times in Kenya and no one even had a second thought about it. When I mentioned that to George (the Haba na Haba director), he pointed out that I was probably in a little more upscale area. "That's life in the slums," he said. George himself is an incredible and inspirational guy making a huge difference in community development and working harder than most people I know. His girlfriend is THE web designer for Kenya Airways and another huge East African corporation. They live together in a tiny apartment that's decent, but in a really dirty and impoverished area.

The myth that people living in slums are lazy or unmotivated is completely and totally wrong. I've noticed that many people living in these areas are employed and extremely hard workers. About 90% of Nairobi's population lives on less than 20% of the land area. Every day, I see business men in suits get off of matatus and walk down muddy alleys to tin structures they've built themselves as homes.

Why should they have to live like this? Why does an incredibly intelligent young woman who recently graduated from college and is the primary web designer for Kenya Airways live in a tiny apartment with nothing for streets but giant mud holes filled with dirty water? Why does a brilliant, knowledge-thirsty 16 year-old get beaten and thrown in jail indefinitely with a 200,000 Ksh bail for shooting pool at 2 in the afternoon for a little extra money? Why are people in Kibera forced to consume their own shit because the only place for waste is their own water supply?

I'm sorry. I know this is not constructive and isn't helping anything. I'm just so sick and tired of the smartest, most motivated people I've ever met (now my friends) not being given a chance in life. These people could try harder than anyone you or I know and nothing would happen.

And what really gets me is they're still out helping people.

Saturday morning, I took a bus to Mathare for a feeding program that MYSA had coordinated. When I got off, I had to make my way through a huge crowd for several blocks before I finally squeezed my way up to the gate. These were all the people whose homes had been burned or who were simply too scared to return to their houses at the risk of the wrong person thinking they were part of a gang simply because they're Kikuyu or Luo.

Once inside, I climbed up and looked over the fence. The "line" stretched as far as I could see in every direction. For the next three hours, I stood inside this small compound behind a fifteen-foot wide gate with five thousand people on the other side, waiting to get in. The MYSA guys would open a little door and let twenty people or so in at a time. Every now and then, one of the guys trying to control the crowd would get an elbow in the face or get pushed around and have to force the door shut for a few minutes.

One of the hardest parts of the day was the moment the bags ran out and I had to watch the look on people's faces when they were handed only a bar of soap and a bag of sugar, then eventually, nothing. These people had been standing in pouring rain for four hours. The hardest were the mothers holding infants and the old women on crutches.

Overall, though, the day was a success and several thousand people got essential and basic food supplies. It just blows me away how these guys spend their Saturdays taking risks just to feed their own neighbors.

After the feeding program, I went with the drama group (most of whom had helped with the food as well) to a juvenille home for a performance. Again, I remembered why I was drawn to this program and how powerful music and drama can be. I watched these kids gather in their courtyard and saw the visible change on their faces once the performances started. A lot of the kids in the audience were about the same age as the MYSA kids and they got a kick out of seeing them dance, play the drums, and do acrobatics.

The drama section was definitely the biggest hit, though. They always start their performance by gathering in a circle, singing, and going into the center in pairs to do a little dance where they grind their butts together. It's hilarious and the kids always love it. Their favorite part was when one of the MYSA guys went into the crowd, grabbed one of the administrators, and made her dance with him in the middle of the circle. Then they performed their skit, drawing everyone in with humor, then delivering a powerful message about protecting yourself from HIV/AIDS.

Those few hours gave the kids an exciting and fun activity in the midst of an otherwise dull day. In a way, I saw it give them hope. And maybe just ten of those kids will use a condom if they decide to have sex. Maybe they'll tell a few of their friends to do the same. Once they're released from the home, maybe a few of them will even get involved with MYSA and spend their time educating communities instead of abusing drugs, committing crimes, or becoming prostitutes.

I am really glad I chose this as my IDS. The past week has definitely had ups and downs, as I'm sure the remaining three will. But the work these people are doing is inspirational and breathtaking to watch. I feel lucky to get to work with such an incredible group of people in an area with such a vibrant, kind, and resilient community.

My Independent Study Project

I realized that my previous plan to play catch-up is probably not feasable at this point. I've moved away from the compound and am staying in one of the Nairobi slums for the next three and a half weeks. My internet access comes from the office of the place I'm working and is limited, especially since people have to use it for other business.

Anyway, I'm currently working with Mathare Youth Sports Association (MYSA) with their performing arts-based HIV/AIDS education program. They go into 16 Nairobi slums and perform skits about HIV/AIDS, women's rights, drug use, and child abuse. I am currently teaching two guitar players how to read music as well as scales and other helpful theory exercises. I am starting general lessons for anyone interested on Monday.

Next week, I am leading two-hour workshops everyday about drama. I'm pretty nervous about that because I'm definitely not qualified for that kind of instruction, but I figure I'll just show them everything I know. The schedule is as follows:

Mon- Warm-ups
Tues- Voice
Wed- Characterization
Thurs- Script Writing
Fri- Script Writing

The idea of the script writing workshops are to brainstorm as a group and come up with a new skit they can use in their repertoire. These four weeks promise to be amazing. The kids are so energetic and optimistic, which is a relief in a field of study which is full of jaded, pessimistic humanitarians.

I hope to have time to copy some journal entries about previous experiences during these next four weeks, but I don't know what kind of time I will have. If nothing else, I can post them when I return to the compound or even when I go home in December. Also, you can shoot me an e-mail anytime (lrwhalen@wustl.edu) and I will try to answer any questions.

Love you all! Hope everything is well.

Reynolds