First Impressions

So I’m here! Finally. The land of my mother. Of my ancestors. Where I dreamed of coming since the day I understood that I was essentially Brown.

One thing I will say – it’s been hard (even for me who usually has TONS to say) to talk about my ‘experiences/impressions’ of India. Perhaps it is because I (unwittingly) expected this larger-than-life experience – having waited so long to come here. Perhaps it is because the practical side of me basically said, ‘Ok. Not a big deal. Millions have done this before and millions live here – just get over it’. So – for the first time, I’m not sure what to say. It’s been a whirlwind emotionally since I landed, but I’ll attempt to synthesize the emotions and events of the past two weeks. Hopefully, once I start the writing, words will come and I’ll be able to process. Until then, know this one thing: India is incredible. A land of contrasts – stark poverty next to ultimate opulence.

The Trip

My trip to the Motherland started in the wee hours of the morning on Thursday Aug 27^th. Having stayed up WAY past my bedtime the night before packing and repacking, I was surprised that I could even muster the energy to be cheerful. Emotions were raw around my family, as we all knew that I was going to be gone for six months. And I, while I was scared shitless about this ‘adventure’, had to put on this happy-go-lucky face even before the caffeine in my morning chai hit my system.

My itinerary was as follows: Gainesville, FL > Jacksonville, FL > Newark, NJ > Frankfurt, Germany > Mumbai, India > Bangalore, India.

Drove the 2hr drive to Jacksonville airport (we live in little ol’ Gainesville which doesn’t have a major airport), managed to check my humongous bags in time to Newark airport where I was to catch my international flights to desiland. All was well until time to check in my bags for international flights in Newark, NJ came. Apparently the Air India scales thought that my bags were over the limit. The fact that Continental Air (domestic airline in the US) thought that the bags were not overweight back in Florida didn’t matter. So, it was either: cough up an extra $100 for ‘baggage fees’ or else. Don’t ask how much coy flirting I did with Jay Patel (Air India Customer Service agent). Either way, the ‘baggage fee’ was waived or the scales righted themselves. AND I got exit-row window seats as a result of my talking skills. LOL.

Landed in Bangalore in the wee hours of the morning on Sat Aug 29^th 2009. Wasn’t as jet-lagged as I thought I would be. Perhaps the fact that I was blessed with an exit row window seat and a few good hours of sleep on the plane might have had something to do with it. The flights across the oceans were uneventful. The clouds - beautiful. Got some beautiful shots of the sun rising and setting several times. God must have it so good!

It is when I landed in Mumbai that the ‘eventfulness’ started. Ha! I was blessed to have the kindness of a lady (whose name happened to be Kinjal Vyas! A good friend of mine shares this name!) who has travelled between the US and India via Mumbai enough times to know how to ‘navigate’ the Mumbai airport. This angel, as I prefer to call her, showed me the ropes.

So, the rule of thumb in Mumbai airport is: do not expect to see any information desks or people giving out info on where to go/what to do. Just do what the person in front of you is doing (and hope that they are not ticking off the immigration/customs officials!) We landed and were ushered into a long labyrinth of passageways. Upon reaching the ‘end’, we had to individually tag our hand luggage with Air India luggage tags (those little paper things with rubber-bands where we write our names/addresses and hope for the best when our luggage gets lost). Basically, anything in our hands – purses, rolly-polly bags, bottled water, etc needed to get tagged. I wasn’t sure why this was happening, and my jet-lagged brain wasn’t about to start questioning the ways of Indian Immigration. So taggage happened. (Don’t ask how I tagged my chunky neck-pillow!)

Because this is India, there were separate lines for Ladies and Gents. One Gent in particular decided to welcome me to India by slapping my butt as he made his way to the he-line. No, seriously. My withering stare back at him didn’t do much good. I mentally told myself to buy more kurtas (Indian loose-fitting tunic-like shirts) that would hopefully lessen the butt-slaps.

We went through the metal detectors and the perfunctory pat-down by the she-cop. Was told to dump out my water. (I thought I was being smart by asking the flight attendant on my flight for water so I wouldn’t have to buy any water at the airport!) And started the process of finding the connecting flight. ‘Started’ being the operative word. Like I said, no information desk or nothing on the TV-info screens telling us what gate to proceed to only meant one thing: start at one end of the terminal and ask each/every gate-agent: Is this the flight #602 to Bangalore? It took Kinjal (my flight-friend who was connecting to Ahmedabad) and I, about 25 minutes to find our gate. Not bad.

The rest of trip was uneventful. I had four hours in the middle of the night to kill. But too tired to do any exploring. Lugging my stuff all over the airport somehow didn’t seem appealing. So I sat. And watched. The terminal was a zoo. Literally. It felt like a market-place. Never mind that it was past midnight – everyone talked at the top of their voices. Children were running around. Babies were crying. Mothers were placating. Snoring was happening – don’t ask how, amidst the din. There were at least 15 languages being spoken. There were TONS of people (where were they all going??) At some point during this time, I said to myself, “Welcome to India”. In the midst of the chaos, I felt peace. Not sure why, but I was here. The land where my mother grew up. Where her mother did the same. Where my Brownness came from. I felt no kinship to anyone around me, but I simply knew that I was here.

My flight to Bangalore was eventually announced. Took off and landed. (They actually served little sandwiches and drinks – even though it was a 2am flight! Take that – you US flight carriers!) Went through immigration and customs (after being screened for swine flu – Bangalore is now the swine flu capital of India!) and got promptly picked up by my friend David’s brother and got inducted into the ways of Indian hospitality. The trip was over. The adventure was just beginning! Watch this space for more ‘eventfulness’.

Change.

Fantastic! I am very..I mean..VERY impressed and proud of you young ppl who can express themselves freely and truly. The sad part is our African govements will never change coz of the greediness and corruption which has been playing for a very long time. Hope and pray for the day I will see " CHANGE" in Kenya and Africa as a whole coz only the young generation is willing to bring that CHANGE. But what about thoese stoned in there?I hope u understand what I am talking about. I love my country and proud to be an african but the ways of Motherland are just SAD!!
- Anonymous
(posted on Aug 18th 2009 in response to my blog post - Obama Fever)

Dear Anonymous,
(wish I could address this personally to you as we could have a lively discussion on Kenya and the change that we wish to see for our nation..but alas, Anonymous it will have to be..)

I don't believe that our government will never change. Call it youthful idealism but someone with a dose of realism once said, "Change comes from within". That is true - be it at the national level in government offices or at the personal level within the home. Our governments continue to be 'greedy and corrupt', because we ALLOW this to happen.

It is easy to say that the ways of our motherland are sad, but harder to be the change that we want to see. Easy to rant and rave. Harder to attempt providing the solutions to some of the challenges. Easy to philosophize about the problem and point to historical reasons as to why we are in the pit that we are in. Harder to think ahead to the future to prevent history from being repeated.

Each one of us, (be it old or young) need to be engaged with our local elected leaders/community leaders to hold them accountable. If you are a citizen of a country, then there is NO reason why you shouldn't do this. If an engaged and vibrant group of Kenyans demand the service that public servants (aka elected officials) should give to the constituents, then change CAN happen.

It is not up to the 'young people'. It is up to YOU! Yes, you! You, who are reading this! Look around you. What is your passion in life? Are you simply existing? Or are you living? Truly, madly, deeply LIVING.

Back to Kenya: Being part of the diaspora, I actively read and follow Kenyan politics and current affairs on the Internet. I dream of the day that we, as part of the global Kenyan citizenry, can organize ourselves enough to go beyond the provision of the occasional remittances back home. Instead of sending money, can you send your time? Are you a doctor, a nurse, an engineer, business professional? Can you 'send' your skills and train others back home? There are SO MANY talented and smart people back home! Instead of sending gifts (and there's nothing wrong with that, by the way!), can we encourage others to look beyond the 'fish' and learn 'how to fish'? Can you contact your nearest embassy and find out who else in the diaspora lives in your area code and hold 'town hall' meetings in your home to discuss these issues?

As usual, I don't have answers. I rant and rave because Kenya is my home. And I wish that those who live at home (a place close to my heart) would simply stop existing and start living. Living to make change happen. Living to hold elected officials accountable. Living to make hard decisions that may or may not bear fruit as we understand 'fruit' to be. Living to engage in the environment around them. We CAN be the change that we wish to see in this world. It takes one step at a time. Make it happen!

Musicka - Cheb Mami

I don't know what it is about Arabic music. Perhaps it is the throaty sounds that sound so elegant to me. Perhaps it is reminiscing of the Arab culture and music that I grew up listening to in Mombasa, Kenya.

Either way, I'm always on the look-out for new artists to add to my collection. Some of my favorites - Amr Diab (Egypt), Mohamed Lamine (Algeria), Wael Kfoury (Lebanon) and now Cheb Mami.

From the guy who brought us Desert Storm by Sting. Here's another number that simply makes me want to go learn belly-dancing! :)

Back to business!

Ok...so, little did I know that things would work out so fast! A friend of mine once called it 'Holy ease'. When things that are meant to happen actually happen. They simply flow. Sort of like a river that takes turns and bends on its course. Not in the way that we thought they would but in other ways that are even more wonderful.

Short story: I got my visas! And am actually going to desiland! And they worked out in ways better than I thought. Getting excited again - but this time - it's a more sedate sort of an excitement. More like, 'Hmm..I'm going away for a little bit. Not bad.' Am looking forward to learning all manner of things. From the fact that I really should stick to bottled water, since my immune system has gone floppy on me now that I leave in 'clean' America. To the fact I'll meet all kinds of people - good people, bad people. People who'll make me laugh. People who might even exasperate me enough to make me cry!

Either way - I'm grateful for the opportunity. Sometimes I pinch myself because I would have never dreamt of this life – an opportunity to make a small difference in the world. While working out the details of each paint-stroke is painstaking at times, the overall picture is beautiful and exciting.

So watch out! Stories shall abound! Pictures shall be taken. And hopefully, I shall be consistent in capturing the emotions of the moment and penning them down in this space. More later!

Bureaucracy and delays

My trip to India is on hold. Indefinitely. Little did I know that I'd be learning the joys of Indian bureaucracy on this side of the ocean. Short story: still waiting on my visas to come in. Hoping that things will work out in a few short weeks! So, while I'm excited about the opportunity to do some public health work on the ground, this little pause has given me some much-needed time with family and to do some thinking and taking stock on where I am and where I've come from. Call it a mid-year resolution of sorts.

Some random ramblings in my head:

People! No matter where I came from, and where I go - people always come first! In the hustle/bustle of life (i.e. life as a full-time worker and graduate student, living away from family etc), I became less intentional in maintaining friendships. Would love to do better in this area. Actually, would love to learn how to love people well. Especially family. Those who know me best and that I care for the most.

Pipes and Flexibility: The American culture is very much a go-getter/I-can-do-all-things culture. We're constantly bombarded by where we need go, what we need to do, and how to get 'ahead' in life. Perhaps this is ubiquitous across many cultures, but never did I feel the pressure to achieve so much in life and have dreams to shoot for the moon, until I moved to America. Amazing, since you hear stories of folks with a bit of stoic will-power, who really can do anything that they put their mind to. Goals and dreams are good things to have. They give people (me?) much-needed structure for daily living (smile). That being said, flexibility, patience and the ability to sit still is a skill that I still am learning to practice.

Listen! While loving life, laughing myself silly, and simply living life to the fullest, I forget sometimes that sitting still is a good thing. Simply listen to the humdrum of life around you. What do you see? What do you hear? I lived in Boston for the past two years, and was pretty busy for the most part. However, I had my little thinking quiet spot - I call it my Carrie Bradshaw desk. It was my desk in my room overlooking my street, where I could see the neighbors' houses around me and and the Boston skyline in the horizon to my right. My space to think and reflect. While I love skylines of cities, I also love green and blue. Being in a small town at my mother's home. The simple rhythmic motion of my comfy reclining chair overlooking trees outside and blue Florida skies, while catching up on reading, often puts me in a reflective mood. Out of one of those reflections comes this age-old adage: Listen more. Do less. Talk less. Listening gives me the ability to learn. To learn about myself. To learn about others. To realize that dreams cannot live in pipes made of steel, but of things pliable and malleable. To learn how to take those dreams and goals from yesterday and have them fit into today with everything that Today can throw at you.

So, I leave you with this last bit of randomness - yes: I love people, live to the fullest and laugh often. BUT..I cannot do any of those things, without loving God first. Hmm...that's the next set of explosions that are happening in my head. What does it mean to know love God? What does it mean to know Him who is Absolute Truth in a relative world? (smile)

India Adventure

So..the time has come to start blogging about India! I am embarking on one of the bigger adventures of my life, to date. I’m going to India for six months to work with a non-profit organization in Bangalore, India.

Excited? Yes! Nervous? Double-yes! If you haven’t guessed from the title of my blog, I’m a Kenyan-Indian currently living in America. I’ve actually never been to India – so this going back to the motherland should make for an interesting experience.

So why am I going to India? (No, I’m not going to vacation – although there’s SO much to see...i’m sure it’d fill six months easily!) Well, I have to do an internship for my MPH (masters in public health) program – pick a country, pick a problem, work on a project, write a policy brief that would inform policies surrounding said-problem in said-country. So, I chose India.

Since I want to work with women/vulnerable children, I sought out organizations that work on the ground to help improve the health of women and children in India.

After negotiating scopes of work with three NGOs, I settled on Population Services International, a Washington DC‐based NGO that works in about 60 countries. They run programs in malaria, reproductive health, child survival, HIV and tuberculosis – all areas of interest to me. In India, they have been in existence since 1988 and I’m told that their teams do some great work on the ground. I’ll be working under the Regional Director in South India as a Program Assistant. The job will be based primarily out of their Bangalore offices, but will also involve travel around the state of Karnataka to oversee projects in rural parts of the state.

So..I leave in mid-July and will be back in January. Currently in the throes of working out some visa issues, getting my travel vaccinations, reading up about India (thanks to my good friend Michelle, who saw it fit to get me a 1000+ pg book on India!) while starting to write my thesis and taking my last class as a masters student in international public health. Yikes! I suppose, I’m partly keeping busy so I don’t have to think too much and freak out even more. Ha!

So…watch this space for stories – from my very first auto-rickshaw ride to checking out the beautiful hill-stations in Southern India on my off-days. From the joys (and pains!) of working in public health in the land of my mother, to the loneliness that’ll undoubtedly set in once the novelty has worn off. Looking forward to it all – the joys, pains and everything in between. Wish me luck!

Of Partnerships.

How do I respond to the fact that many of our brothers and sisters live in poverty? Daily I read and listen to reports on some of most abject dehumanizing conditions that my fellow men live under and my heart breaks. War. Lack of basic human rights. Clean water. Basic primary health care. Good nutritious food. Lack of economic self-sufficiency.

As I reflect on this and ponder on how I may play a small role to mollify this, I am reminded of the basic premise of fundamental respect and partnership. Partnership is a simple and vitally important practice in international development, but one that has many facets and is difficult to achieve.

The word 'partnership' conjures up images of 'joining at the hip'. A relationship where no one person holds more power than the other. Where mutual respect and honesty is always at the forefront. Where no one is derided for their beliefs and background, however 'outlandish' they may be. 

I'm still a graduate student with very little experience in international health and development but the little that I do know tells me that most of us in this field enter into this field for altruistic reasons. We're driven by a nagging desire to be advocates for change. To part of the change that could somehow affect and touch another’s life.

Somewhere along that line (or perhaps even before long) we forget that in order to truly achieve change, we need to do this work with collaboration and partnership in mind. Understanding that we, as ‘international development experts’ do not have even 1% of the answers or the resources to make this change happen. We often study problems and have been trained to characterize issues and offer solutions within local contexts. However, how often do we draw up work plans for international projects and truly engage with local stakeholders before implementing our solutions? How can we honestly fly into another man’s land, and offer advice on problems on the ground?

Having worked in an organization where international health consultants fly all over the world to offer technical expertise to development and health projects, I have acquired a small taste of this world. It is quite disillusioning at times. As a graduate student, I am bright-eyed and eager to put some of my classroom learning to use. As a public health professional working alongside others who have worked in this for many more years than I have, I get the sense that some in this field have forgotten about partnership. True collaboration and respect. Where every stakeholder is considered an equal. In a world where titles get long, and egos get even longer, development is such a tricky word at times.  

Tomes have probably been written about this but I feel that international development – if not checked – can easily turn into a form of neocolonialism. It is worth examining ourselves every so often and reminding ourselves about the simple, and yet, powerful concept. Of partnership. 

Musicka - Idan Raichel

What is it about music in other languages that tantalizes me so much? A friend recently introduced me to Idan Raichel - hot Israeli guy in dreads who sings in Hebrew and Amharic and draws on sounds from Africa, Caribbean, and the Middle East. The cast in his first album The Idan Raichel Project hail from all over the world - South Africa, Ethiopia, Suriname etc. In addition, he has collaborated with other award-winning artists such as Rokia Traoré from Mali (another one of my favourite artists) and Ivri Lider from Israel. 

Can't understand a word of what he sings but a brief web-search on his projects tells me that his songs extend a message of hope, love, and tolerance. Messages that bode well and are much needed in a part of the world where conflict is the norm and so much part of the daily. 

I missed a chance to see him live last week in Boston due to class (I did contemplate skipping out on class to go watch his concert!), but he's currently touring the US..so definitely see him if you get a chance to!  I love so many songs on his albums..but this song is one of my favourites. Reminiscent of Psalm 130 - traditionally recited by Jews in times of distress - it means 'Out of the Depths. 

Everything is amazing, nobody is happy!

Comedian Louis CK on the Conan O'Brien show. 

This is so true! (And funny as well!) 

India: Malnutrition and Moolah

India has higher malnutrition rates than much of Sub-Saharan Africa. The world's largest democracy is quickly becoming a powerhouse within the global economic community. However, with sustained growth rates comes an ever-widening gap in economic inequality across the country. 

Food is one of the cornerstones of proper health. Moreover, nutritious food supplied within 0-2 years of age (scientifically justified formative years of a child) is key to bolstering child health early on. While India has increased spending in many areas (military, technology etc - think the probe to the moon, Tata's new mini-cars..), basic public health areas, malnutrition initiatives being just one of them, continue to receive pithy portions of that spending pie. Furthermore, the extent to which malnutrition rates are reduced based on existing initiatives is not clear. 

Nutrition is simply one part of the problem. Two of the world's richest men in the world hail from India. Some of the poorest people in the world also live in India. If India is to create a middle-class bourgeoisie, and move the masses to from one economic class to another to close the gap between the rich and the poor, its government needs to be intentional in ensuring that essentials such as health and nutrition are not being tossed to the wayside. 

If all goes well, I hope to be involved later this year in a nutrition project in India, and as part of my master's degree, have to write a policy document to help inform policies surrounding this problem. As someone hoping to affect change in this area, it is exciting to see well-informed news coverage and dialogue on this issue. But more importantly, we need to remember to use information such as this to hold the leaders of our nations accountable to gross inadequacies in planning for proper health and well-being of their citizens.

Musicka - Aradhna

From time to time I'll post new music that I have discovered...or am currently listening to..

I don't know what it is about music that overcomes me but I often find myself enamored by one or two songs and listen to them over and over again. Music is often for me more of a spiritual and emotional thing than anything else. (Unless it's any genre of dance music - which is more of a shaking-my-booty thing!) Years later, if I hear a song or listen to an older CD, the emotions of the time-period within which I listened to that song often washes over me afresh. It's amazing how the human mind associates memories with sensory experiences tied to sound, smell, sight etc. 

Currently listening to Aradhna's Amrit Vani. This group blends music from the east and west to create beautiful Indian bhajans (devotional songs). I grew up listening to bhajans played by my grandmother and mother in the morning as they prepared for the day ahead. This along with the fact that Aradhna so eloquently sing those bhajans to my Lord and captures exactly what I want to say, has me enamored. Captivated by so many songs on their albums. Particularly Man Mera perfectly describes the state of my mind right now.

Check out the lyrics and listen along..

Skiing..err...Falling Weekend

I went Falling this past weekend. This is how it went down: 

My friend asked, 'Hey Devina, you wanna go skiing or snowboarding this next weekend?'

Devina: Sure! I'll go skiing. It's been on my 'things-to-do-before-I-die-list' 

Friend (not yet sure about blogging etiquette - am I allowed to name names? Ah..well!): Cool. Here's the details. New Hampshire. Meet at my place at 7am on Sunday, and we'll pack into cars and drive up. Here's the details on the lift tickets...equipment..etc..blah..blah. 

Devina: Sure thing. I'll be there. 

So..of course Devina has to do some research online. Is it better as a first-timer to try and learn skiing or snowboarding? Any tips that would help..etc. Equiped with 'knowledge' of skiing and borrowed ski apparel from my roommate, I woke up at the crack of dawn on a cold Sunday morning and embarked on my get-skiing-off-my-bucket-list adventure. 

And they say, book learning ain't gonna help ya!  Falling is the only experience I got. I did learn a few things: 

• I learnt the best way to fall. (apparently, there's a technique to falling. If you fall the wrong way, it'll take a heck of a time getting back up!) 
  
• I learnt how to quickly snap off the boot from the ski. (If you experience said-not-best-way fall, you won't be able to get back up! You'll have to physically take off ski from the boot from fallen position).
  
• I learnt how to put back on the ski on the side of a mountain and making sure that i don't slide down on one ski. (So, after you snap off the boot, you get up and try to put the ski back on. However, you're on the side of a slopey mountain and in the process of putting the ski back on - you inevitably start sliding down!) 

And on..and on. 

As you guessed it, I did very little skiing and lots of falling and getting back up. But get back up I did! In fact, if it weren't so expensive, I'd go again - to learn how to ski this time, since I've got the falling part down. ha! 

Picture taken by my friend's camera phone as I left my camera at home. Yes, we know. The light was behind us so the picture came out dark. But the point was to capture the whiteness on the mountain behind me. :) 

Facebook Relationships

What is it about Facebook that has the world going crazy? I mean, I can understand it to an extent. People have no time and it's a great way to keep in touch with folks who live all over the world. I, for one, joined Facebook in college to save money on a banner ad for a fund-raising event that was being held by organization that I was involved with. I stayed on as more and more people from my former life in Kenya started appearing on the scene. People who lived all over the world, and who I could now keep in touch with and see their lives via photos etc. Awesome. Great.

So, what's the problem, you may ask? Well - Facebook has reduced friendships and relationships to a friendly poke and a two-line wall post. There were days where people visited each other. Then came phones era and people started calling. This reduced the need to interact with others face-to-face. Enter email. People started emailing each other - thereby eliminating the need to actually hear each others' voices. Then comes the world of Instant Messaging. Where conversations are held via acronymized sentences: 'it's g8', 'r u there' 'c u l8r'.

Into this already fast-paced-no-need-to-have-human-interactions world, enters Facebook. While comments and wall posts are great, I wonder - does it reduce the need to have real friendships? I have lots of friends at varying levels of intimacy. We all do. However, how many times have I tried to get to know someone beyond the 'good-laughs-good-times'? To actually make time to get to know people? To put up with a friends' cribbyness? Or is just easier to comment on a picture or a status update and simply shut the person out via clicking away from their profile after you're done?

Facebook and online social networking has opened up a whole new way of interacting others. But somehow I think it has also created a culture of not investing in the people right next to us. We tend to keep in touch with people far away, but not really find out who our next door neighbor is. And more so, it has created a culture of reducing friendships/relationships to a friendly 2-min stalk-fest. And that makes me think, this Facebook thing is overrated. :)

Who wants to be a (Slumdog) millionaire?

Are movie-makers doing more harm than good when they take real-life kids out of destitute settings to play acting roles..? What are the ethical issues involved in making movies such as Slumdog, Kite Runner involving children? The psychological ramifications of having exposed children to the 'high life' and then putting them back into same settings is quite something to think about. Not to mention the probable exploitation that takes place. From the movie producers who might pay below-standard rates. To the parents of the children, well-intentioned as they may be, who might not have education as a top priority when poor health and malnutrition continue to ravage the family. Quite something to think about. 

This article brings to light some of these issues. The producers may have been well-intentioned in setting up trust funds for the two child stars of this block-buster. But I have to wonder. Are the trust funds the best way to better the lives of these kids? What about the other children? Children who grew up around Rubina and Azharuddin? Are they not worth this education? Isn't the slum itself - home to thousands of people - the setting for this movie? If the slum and the sum total of its inhabitants make up the reason for this movie's existence, shouldn't a trust fund be set up for all inhabitants of said-slum? 

Perhaps this is too lofty a request and the movie-makers did not mean to make this movie with a 100% altruistic motive. Perhaps the awareness generated around issues of urbanization and poverty is enough. Perhaps this is meant to inspire the local government to think of urban planning and setting up infrastructure for education and health as more and more people move to urban settings such as Mumbai in search of employment opportunities. However, I have to wonder is it too much to ask that a portion of the $150 million gross revenue go towards better health, better educational opportunities and ultimately a better life for the inhabitants (children especially) of the slums. 

Obama Fever

Today, as I sit during my lunch hour contemplating about last night’s election results here in the US and reactions from around the world, I can’t help but want to share some thoughts with anyone that might be inclined to read this.

As I watched the results unfold last night, and saw the status updates of friends on Facebook who live all over the world, I was struck immediately by the responses of my fellow Kenyans. People that I grew up and went to high school with. This morning, I read online some pieces about the Kenyan response to Obama’s win. And it made me sad.

Don’t get me wrong – I have been in support of Obama since the primary election – I do believe that his policies and vision for America might…just might…put America back on the map. I won’t go into all the reasons why I would have voted for Obama, had I an American passport. Suffice it to say that while I’m cynical about promise of change (the word ‘change’ is such a subjective word), I’m excited about current energy in this country and the democratic process here in the US. He will have a heck of time cleaning up the mess that this country has gotten into, but I do think he’s the better candidate to do that job.

Back to Kenya and what I read. Here are some quotes from a NY Times article:

"..Thousands of people sang, danced, blew whistles, honked horns, hugged, kissed and thumped on drums — all down the same streets where not so long ago huge flames of protest had raged. “Who needs a passport?” people yelled. “We’re going to America!” "

"..By mid-morning, the Kenyan government declared Thursday a national holiday. It meant a day off. And surely more partying..."

I realize that this displays only one extreme and there are countless who do not share this enthusiasm. However, when I read status updates on facebook from my dear friends and former classmates – all the next generation of Kenyans – who share in this blind enthusiasm, I wonder. I wonder at the misplaced pride. Wonder what we as Kenyans think is our benefit that a half-Kenyan got into the Oval Office.

I wonder – why is it that we are celebrating victory over another country’s elections, when we displayed violence over our own elections? Why are we so enthused about the democratic process in other places, and yet refuse to engage in the civic affairs of our own land? Is it any wonder that democracy, in its truest form, continues to elude us?

I was amazed at the energy of the young people, and how young people around me in Boston were so informed about the political visions of each candidate. I wonder – is this is the case in Kenya? Are we young people holding our current leaders to their campaign promises? If they are not delivering their campaign platform, are we protesting? (Not in violence, mind you) What are the ways in which we can do this and voice our concerns and build a more engaged civic society and ultimately a better Kenya? Do we speak to our district representatives when injustices occur? Or do we turn a blind eye and continue on with our day?

I don’t have answers. Just questions and thoughts. Enough of the rant. Comments are welcome. More than anything else, I wish to stimulate discussion rather than point fingers.

Welcome to the World of.

So. First post. Not quite sure what to add here yet. Still trying to figure out how this whole blogging thing works. I know...I know. It is 2008 after all. Where bloggers have been known exist since the eve of the Internet-age.

However, after much deliberation, I'm finally at the stage where unleashing random thoughts and the writing that results from reflection of the world around me to the blog-reading community, seems to be an okay thing to do.

So, welcome to the world of. Happy reflecting. Happy blogging.