Here is the album from my trip...
http://picasaweb.google.com/sjbchapman/Africa#
My opinion.
The first things I notice about being home: everything is shiny, and I'm surrounded by 90 degree angles. The next things hit me slowly. My closet looks like it has enough clothes to last me a lifetime. I overhear conversation topics that seem pathetically highbrow. I feel like I'm in a rich, uncaring, excessive community. I hate it but somehow feel grateful to have the opportunity to be a part of it.
Nairobi was not what I expected. The poor were richer than I expected, and the rich were poorer. Most tasks were executed with imprecision, and most people seemed to feel that fortune had abandoned them not through a lack of effort on their part, but rather through God's will. Hard times were a test of survival, not a speed bump on the road to success.
I realized that my parents should not be taken for granted. Somehow, it's their obligation to take care of me, a responsibility they took on when they decided to conceive. In a world where so few are willing to reach out to others, it's ok to accept my parents' help, listen to their advice, let them listen to my troubles.
Resources are widely wasted. Utilities like water and electricity are used up as much as possible until the city-provisioned ration is exhausted. Recycling is non-existent; even on a personal scale, precious little is saved for re-use, creating massive pollution in the streets (garbage cans are also non-existent). There are abundant opportunities for composting, water conservation, home gardening, and other more economically focused forms of investment. None are taken.
How can we fix it? Where would one start? My friend, a fellow Afriphile, deems the problem "unfixable." All we can do, it seems, is help where its broken, like patching up a hose full of holes, one hole at a time, experimenting with different methods of adhesion, hoping that one day the hose might work properly. Is it really too late to teach a country how to build a hose that won't break...?
Nairobi was not what I expected. The poor were richer than I expected, and the rich were poorer. Most tasks were executed with imprecision, and most people seemed to feel that fortune had abandoned them not through a lack of effort on their part, but rather through God's will. Hard times were a test of survival, not a speed bump on the road to success.
I realized that my parents should not be taken for granted. Somehow, it's their obligation to take care of me, a responsibility they took on when they decided to conceive. In a world where so few are willing to reach out to others, it's ok to accept my parents' help, listen to their advice, let them listen to my troubles.
Resources are widely wasted. Utilities like water and electricity are used up as much as possible until the city-provisioned ration is exhausted. Recycling is non-existent; even on a personal scale, precious little is saved for re-use, creating massive pollution in the streets (garbage cans are also non-existent). There are abundant opportunities for composting, water conservation, home gardening, and other more economically focused forms of investment. None are taken.
How can we fix it? Where would one start? My friend, a fellow Afriphile, deems the problem "unfixable." All we can do, it seems, is help where its broken, like patching up a hose full of holes, one hole at a time, experimenting with different methods of adhesion, hoping that one day the hose might work properly. Is it really too late to teach a country how to build a hose that won't break...?
8/2/2009
It's the last day before I leave Africa. So I tried 2 things I've always wanted to try: fooling a monkey and bathing a camel.
Monkeys here steal fruit from the tourists, and I wanted to see what would happen if I pretended to hand a monkey a banana, but didn't let go. I thought maybe it would just run away, or possibly bite me. But the monkey was clever. I was holding one end of the banana, so he took his hands and broke it in half and took the other half.
Then I held out the remaining half, and he tried to grab it but I still wouldn't let go. So he just put his hands on mine and ate the banana out of the peel. It was very cute.
There are a lot of camels on the beach for tourists to take rides, and their owners give them a bath in the ocean every morning. So I woke up early and helped. I washed "Mr. Obama" and "Mr. Carlos." It was super fun, but Mr. Carlos scared the hell out of me by standing up in the middle of the bath. Camels are huge, and I thought he was surely going to step on me.
There is marijuana here everywhere. I've been hanging out with some locals since I arrived, and most of their time is spent sitting in various spots in the shade. Everywhere I sit, someone comes by and procures pot, practically out of the air. Its hidden in thatch roof tops, buried under dirt, kept in corn husks... I have a feeling if I lift any rock I'll find a big pile of someone's weed there. Its ridiculous.
It's also really cheap (I think). I'm not sure how much pot costs in the US, but a joint here is about 20 cents. The only thing I have to compare it to is a cigarette, which runs about 50 cents in NYC. It's funny ... everything is cheaper here, except gas, which costs exactly the same as it does in the US. But it doesn't stop people from owning cars at all. I do fear for my life when I'm walking along a road though... I think they could use some more driving lessons.
Monkeys here steal fruit from the tourists, and I wanted to see what would happen if I pretended to hand a monkey a banana, but didn't let go. I thought maybe it would just run away, or possibly bite me. But the monkey was clever. I was holding one end of the banana, so he took his hands and broke it in half and took the other half.
Then I held out the remaining half, and he tried to grab it but I still wouldn't let go. So he just put his hands on mine and ate the banana out of the peel. It was very cute.
There are a lot of camels on the beach for tourists to take rides, and their owners give them a bath in the ocean every morning. So I woke up early and helped. I washed "Mr. Obama" and "Mr. Carlos." It was super fun, but Mr. Carlos scared the hell out of me by standing up in the middle of the bath. Camels are huge, and I thought he was surely going to step on me.
There is marijuana here everywhere. I've been hanging out with some locals since I arrived, and most of their time is spent sitting in various spots in the shade. Everywhere I sit, someone comes by and procures pot, practically out of the air. Its hidden in thatch roof tops, buried under dirt, kept in corn husks... I have a feeling if I lift any rock I'll find a big pile of someone's weed there. Its ridiculous.
It's also really cheap (I think). I'm not sure how much pot costs in the US, but a joint here is about 20 cents. The only thing I have to compare it to is a cigarette, which runs about 50 cents in NYC. It's funny ... everything is cheaper here, except gas, which costs exactly the same as it does in the US. But it doesn't stop people from owning cars at all. I do fear for my life when I'm walking along a road though... I think they could use some more driving lessons.
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