notes from a small island

Dear friends and family,

I got back two days ago from my 10 day stay at Takwa Ruins on Manda Island near Lamu. I worked on creating hard copy images of wall-drawings at the aforementioned ruins. I lived alone but for 3 fishermen who had huts down the hill from me. It was...an opportunity to think and be alone. The area was breath-takingly beautiful. I watched the sun rise and set every day. In one direction was the overwhelming seascape of Indian Ocean, and in the other a green expanse of mangrove forests, occasional baobab trees and the distant Lamu Town. There were brightly colored weaver birds, butterflies, the occasional small monkey, lizards a-plenty, fish, lobster, crabs, and insects of all denomination. I had two run-ins with the baboons that frequent the area, and on both occasions my heart was in my throat. Takwa is extremely hard to access because of its secluded location and the fluctuating tides. Had I been bitten by a baboon -according to the fisherman they are fierce and unfriendly- I would've had to wait a long time before getting medical treatment. When I asked Ali (one of the fisherman) what I should do if I saw or heard one, he said in the most matter of fact voice, "Andoka!" or "Leave!". I took his advice.

After a few days of work I felt the irony of my situation. I was working on ruins that few in Kenya, let alone Africa or the world, know or care about, studying images even fewer people know or care about (which will in the end be destroyed by the weather and lack of care). A hundred miles north of me (Somalia) there's violence, a hundred miles south of me people have been driven from their homes because of flooding, roads are inaccessible and bridges are drowned. Food, medical supplies, and general everyday necessities are astronomically expensive because of the condition of the roads. My Kaloleni family's house collapsed - they're sleeping outside. And I was working in paradise, on esoteric and decaying remains of a once glorious city-state. Few would actually benefit from my "research", even myself to some extent. However, the exprience was worth every wasted second. Introspection is invaluable and natural beauty does much to heal the mind. I almost wanted to start this email with, "I went to Takwa to live delibrately..." but refrained. Oddly enought it's close to the truth.

I intended in this email to expand on the current social, economic and political ills in Kenya because I didn't do them justice in the previous email. However I'm going to put it off for another time, perhaps over tea when I'm back in the US you can ask me. Though I'll probably say I don't know where to start.

I'm in the middle of "A Continent for the Taking" and it's been a bit difficult to read. It's an excellent book but heart-breaking. He describes many of the things I've seen in Kenya without the sugar coating I've given you (although the book focuses mostly on Western and Central Africa). I'll read passages and my memory jerks me back to streets in Malindi, or the villages in Kaloleni. One part stood out enough for me to bring the book to the internet cafe and copy it for everyone. "More than a million Africans die every year from malaria without raising a peep in the wealthy countries of the world. Struggling for a way to depict the scale of this disaster, the Tanzanian researcher Wen Kilama said, 'Imagine seven Boeing 747s filled mostly with children crashing into Mount Kilimanjaro each day, and you begin to get an idea of malaria's horrifying toll.'" Two girls on the program have already had malaria. My friend Ali who works at our guest house just recovered from malaria. Medicine is expensive, he and all of us are lucky we can afford it. In the US that type of statistical information would've drawn sighs of sympathy from my breast but no more. Here it's different. Everyday I see those children who get malaria, who are on that Boeing 747 flight into Kilimanjaro. I pass them in the streets. I slept next to them - they were my sisters for a week. I left my mosquito net in Kaloleni on purpose, I didn't care how much it would cost me or SIT. Of course there's more of the book I want to share but I don't have the time. Possibly the most difficult part to read is the history. Reading about what Europe and the United States have done to African countries for 500 years makes me want to vomit. I don't care what kind of "aid" we give, it'll never in my opinion atone for centuries of violence, greed, rape, distruction and slavery.

My experiences finally caught up with me this afternoon and I spent a good portion of my day in tears. As I come closer to leaving, images of life back home saturate my thoughts. They creep slowly, like tentacles, into every crevice of my brain providing a sickening contrast to the reality before and behind me. The dirt, the poverty, the garbage did not affect me until today when I was able to vividly picture in my mind the clean streets and affluence of Blue Ridge Drive. I know the going back will be harder than the coming here. I also know giving up hope would be giving up on those who are making a difference in Kenya and other parts of Africa.
The "re-entry" will be hard, but not even half as hard as the lives I see here. All I can do is take Marieke's advice and live my life the best I can, with as much understanding and patience as possible and use what resources I have to make a difference.