I have recently realized this feeling that I have been experiencing for the past few days. I hadn’t been able to identify exactly what this feeling was or what the source of it was, but as I was walking through town today, feeling it more strongly than ever, I realized exactly what it is. I have realized that the longer I am here, the closer I am to the starting line. Consequently, the closer I get to the starting line, the further away I am from the finish line. When I came, I knew I would experience poverty and need in a way that I never had before, however, I thought of the need as an entire entity. That need and poverty are simply need and poverty and the work I’m doing will hopefully eventually address that need and poverty. But that’s not really the case. As my time here progresses, I realize that poverty is all of the hungry children I meet on the street everyday in tattered school uniforms; it is the girls in the prison asking me to bring them paper, books, pencils, soap and sewing machines for when they are released; it is the notes in broken English given to us by children begging us for help to fulfill their dreams; it is the woman on the street walking in clothes made entirely of bags whom I pass by every day on my way to work; it is the women at Project Africa who have been beaten by their cheating husbands and who ask us to buy them more sewing machines to become financially independent; it is the babies who run around in soiled clothing because their mothers can’t afford diapers; it is women who sit in the market all day begging me to come in and buy their fruit at a price lower than imaginable. It is all of these individual cases of need that create poverty. So my overwhelming feeling that is helplessness stems from the realization of my inability to address all of these needs in this immediate moment, or even by the time I leave to my privileged life at home. I imagine that any trip to such a developing place like this would cause some sort of feelings of helplessness and guilt for your inability to help everyone right now, but I didn’t really see it coming.
This is not to say that I am not optimistic about the work I’m doing here, and the progress this community can and will make in the coming years, but it’s a feeling that never really goes away. And every day I meet someone else, with a new need. The most frustrating part is that I know I could give away all of my money and resources to those who ask me for them, and would accomplish very little to address all of these needs.
Despite this slightly discomforting realization, this week so far has been exciting in many ways. Sunday was a usual casual day in which my family didn’t do much other than sleep, cook, and watch wrestling (or telenovellas… El Nobre Del Amor is actually mesmerizingly interesting, no jokes). I did get to explore the giant cornfields behind my house with my friend who’s actually my neighbor. On Monday, we got two new volunteers from America. So now there are 5 volunteers, 2 staff members, about 25 women in the program and myself. Most of the day I worked on revising my thesis work, but in the afternoon we all visited the Remand Home. The girls seemed a bit tired again, but at the end of the class we had a wonderful time. The girls love when we sing to them, so we did per usual. After a few attempted songs, the girls started singing a song in Swahili where they all clap and sing a name. Before long we were all dancing, clapping and singing in a circle. All of the girls were laughing and I was having a great time. I think we were all so caught up in the moment that none of us realized how much noise we were making until we stopped and heard the silence. It was a wonderful moment of a good connection.
On Tuesday we visited a prison to see what the adult education programs are like in prison. We spoke with some young women who were in a social studies class. At first they were reserved, but eventually they delved into many questions. Most of them asked about the university system in America. Unfortunately, others asked us to buy them sewing machines when they got out of prison or pens and paper for them. It was difficult to not be able to promise anything or to magically produce a sewing machine on the spot either.
Today, I met again with the head of the Department of Adult Education and I finally set up my first interview! I am thrilled to have made a first concrete step towards collecting research. It has been difficult to create a schedule with Susy, since she has been busy with all of the new volunteers. I have also reserved next Wednesday to conduct the young mothers discussion group to ask questions regarding my research. It’s a bit of a relief to finalize some plans and feel like finally some of my work may be coming to some sort of fruition.
In our young mothers discussion group we focused on relationships. As usual, the conversation diverged quickly to what the women wanted to discuss, which in this case was homosexuality. Most were very reserved about the topic and some timidly asked a few questions. I have really noticed here the importance of humor and especially laughter. It seems whenever a situation is uncomfortable or when someone is trying to make a connection, they use laughter. For example, none of the women could ask a question in all seriousness about homosexuality without interrupting every sentence with an outburst of laughter. And once one woman laughs, the whole room explodes with uncomfortable laughter. Clearly, the women were not very comfortable with the topic, but they managed to get out a few questions so long as they were concealed by laughter and the question itself was barely audible. Their views about homosexuality were of course that it is wrong because of the Bible and Christianity. All who spoke up agreed that it should be illegal. Their explanations as to why ranged from the idea that every part of human anatomy has its specified function to because that is what is in the Bible and that’s just what God says. As much as they were against the idea of homosexuality, they seemed awfully curious.
I have also noticed that laughter is used in forming relationships. When you are meeting someone for a specific reason, you usually try to joke with the person for a few minutes before talking about anything serious. I am having trouble having one of my host sisters warm up to me, but the only time I feel a sort of connection is when I make a joke and we are both laughing. My other host sister jokes that the only exercise she needs is walking and laughing, and she only does a lot of the latter.
In the midst of all the poverty, abuse, and uncomfortable situations, perhaps the only thing to do is laugh. Whether it’s a coping mechanism or a medicine, maybe I should take a cue from the Kenyans and just laugh it off.
