Coming Home

Four years ago while an Ebola scare blanketed western Africa, I was in the process of trying to get a student trip to Kenya. The Daraja Global Concern group at my school was in its second year, and I was eager to find a way to take as many kids from Singapore to Kenya as I could. I knew that Paris was closer to Western Africa than Kenya was to the disease, but parents didn’t seem to understand this geography. Additionally, the high cost of the trip, the fact that it was the first time it had ever been offered, and because the GC itself was little known, made recruiting very difficult. In the end, after weeks of stress, ups and downs many conversations with kids and parents, the trip was on the verge of being cancelled. We just didn’t have the numbers to make it viable.

We needed a miracle.

We were lucky to get four. Their names are Paula, Shruti, Georgina and Jenn. These four amazing women, educators and friends, decided to take a chance and pay their own way to go. We took five kids, a mom and five teachers. And just like that the trip was launched.

And earlier tonight, I finished packing for our fourth trip. Since that first trip, every year the numbers have increased. We have taken the entire Psillides family, more parents and more kids. This year we are maxed out at nineteen participants, including a teacher, and a mom and two kids from Dover. We are able to afford to take three official teachers, Martin and Sarah, and I am super excited to be taking four G7 kids from my cohort. I cannot wait to see their growth on this trip.

I have written at length about this campus and the magic of the Kenyan landscape. I have waxed poetic about the power of meeting these girls. But honestly, the best part for me is watching the young people from UWC South East Asia realise that everything they ever thought about Africa is false. I love watching them take in the pace and smells and interactions with the people on the Daraja Academy campus. I love watching our kids run from the geese and milk the cows. Plant the cabbage and sort the beans.

And to be perfectly honest and selfish, I love returning to my room, the one I have stayed in on every trip, dating back to the first time I went with Kaia years ago. I love watch the red dust gather between my toes and watching the stars drape the sky every night on my way to bed. I love the porridge and the beans and the ice cold Stoney when the weather's hot. I love catching up with Ruth and Chris and Stephen and Charles. I love sitting on the Jason’s porch and reminiscing and future planning. Basking in the notion that we did it. We arrived. This is the world we imagined when we were young and stupid and full of mistakes. We knew even as teenagers that we were meant for this world that we have created.

In closing, I was scrolling through Twitter tonight, slowly becoming enraged by military parades and sexual assault and racism, and like most nights I was feeling helpless and ineffectual, but then I remembered that in a short time I would be in Kenya, with students from a school dedicate to peace.

I remembered that the weapons I have chosen to fight the forces of greed and ignorance and injustice are at Daraja. What better force that these young women to create a world that is the opposite of everything I hate about the current forces in power in the US and beyond?

The work we do, however, small and seemingly disconnected, the work of connecting people from different classes and genders and races, is the work that will bring down the forces of hatred. The love we plant and foster and share through committed, authentic and sustainable relationships with communities that mirror our values, is what will save us all.

There is no need to feel helpless. We cannot change the entire world on our own, but we can dedicate our time, energy and money to small communities around the world. This friendship building will teach us everything we need to know to fight the forces of greed and oppression.

Find your people and spend your life committed to hearing their voices and doing your part.

See you soon Daraja. I’ve missed you.

Upon A Gust Of Wind

At first it looked like ash or rubbish floating across the road. The bus was quiet as most of the kids had fallen asleep in various position of comfort and necessity. Some baking in the sun, others shielded by sweatshirts or scarves.

Upon a closer look, one could notice that the paper white ashes, were not ashes at all, but a swarm of thin pale butterflies, and with a bit of imagination and perhaps a pension toward romanticism, one could almost believe that they were a flurry of snow flakes, rolling across the road upon a gust of wind. 

…

The stars are out again, the way that stars rollick in the darkness when allowed the freedom to escape the lights we create to run our lives. A gentle breeze. The silence of the night and the eerie peaceful calm which is the natural sound of night as a planet rolls toward morning.

My ears are still ringing from the music. Earlier we had a bit of a dance party, watching our kids in various modes of amazement watching the Daraja girls dance without a trace of inhibition. Some of our kids joined in, waving their hands as wildly as they could. Jumping up and down, impressed by how easy it can be to be free. I sat watching, still too embarrased by my lack of rhythm to do anything but be jealous.

Back in my banda. Excited to show another group of people the magic of a school build on nothing but passion, love and a trust in humanity so strong that it becomes a self-perpetuating prophecy.

…

On the bus watching:

The languid ease of not needing to be anywhere at any given time. The chaos of a bus over burdened by people and their belongings. Fifty gallons plastic jugs of water or cooking oil, the necessities of life. Families on motorbikes, babies in slings, and the smiling desperation of selling your bunch of bananas in the noon time heat. Watched a group of young boys playing tag on the side of the road, barefoot and all smiles, wondering when do our kids get to be kids so independently.

My thoughts drifted:

How often do I romanticise the life of people leading very difficult lives? Why are white people so scared of black people? It feels strange to be a minority, a pale face in the midst of so much unknown. So many people are unable to see the true face of reality, because of all the baggage we have been burdened with by our cultures and histories.

…

What were are kids thinking today as they looked out their windows and bore witness to the true face of a place that has only been a myth to them. Were they awed or scared? Were they open to the idea that they could relate to the people outside the passing window, or did they linger on the obvious disparity of their lives and the ones on the side of the road?

I hope that by bringing them here to Africa, Kenya, Daraja, we can show them that people are people are people. And that poverty is not some thing to fear or romanticize. It is the true nature of the world. And the people who pass by through our windows living quiet lives on the side of the road, when we get to them and spend time with them and hear their stories and their songs, will always teach us how to be our better selves.

The only way to overcome fear and its belligerent cousin racism is through exposure.

So here we are on day one, ready to look at our ignorance both new and old with open eyes, open minds and open hearts.

Drama means bridge and we are all Daraja.

So Many Passions

This is what Skyelar says to me this morning as we are brushing her teeth:

I have so many passions:

singing
being a student and learning about things like animals
caring about people and animals
art
and building things.

Thank you Gillian​

…

It’s three twenty pm. I’ve taught three classes today, with one prep which I used to plan a lesson with Paula​. I was on grade 8 pod duty during the first break, and I joined my mentor class to help support Tabitha Global Concern group by participating in their walk for water campaign during lunch time.

But that was earlier in the day, it is now three twenty and I am working with our amazing Off Tangent literary magazine group as we finalise the stories and move them into our design template and get ready to send it all to publishing in a few days. The room is buzzing and exhausted, but we are all functioning and determined to get this thing done.

I have yet to sit down all day.

In walks in Andrea and asks if it is okay for Kaia to stay late today and help MC the Epic Arts dance performance later tonight. “She can stay and rehearse from 4:30-6:00 and then be a part of the show.”

After a quick chat with Mairin we thought that giving Kaia a chance to get up on stage and play an active role as a Service Executive Committee member would be a good idea. But this would mean me going home, changing, getting her some dinner and making my way back to school.

Yes, back to school after the day I just described. (Still no sitting)

After I dropped off her dinner, I ran over to Burp and sucked down two Tofu tacos, some chips and salsa and an ice idol coke. It was a tiny slice of heaven. I got to sit down and breathe.

Back at school and I watched Kaia do a great job getting the show started, and what a show. I had no idea what to expect, but these Epic Arts dancers did an amazing job of teaching history and culture through the medium of dance and art. It was for lack of a better word- epic! Nice to sit chat and catch up with Andrea​, Steven​ and Catherine​.

Made me realise how lucky I am to not only wok in such an amazing school, but that my kids are able to attend it as well. We teachers often complain or whinge about the amount of “work” we have to do and at times it is draining and exhausting but days like today make it worth it.

It is now 9:06 and I am nearly panting as I wait for my glass of wine and a Twix bar I bought from the gas station on my way home.

The work we do is so damn rewarding. I mean, from the second I got to school today, until I got home, I was helping young people understand their roles as readers, writers, activists, peace-lovers and artists. We built empathy as we walked in the rain. We created community as we bonded on our walk. We marvelled at the beauty of life and the finality of death as we held a bag of bird bones in our hands with Jenn​. We learned to find, sort, use and cite evidence to build our arguments to make sure that we have rational and empowered voices as we head into the world. We worked together to create a work of art- editing, designing, and negotiating. We learned to understand history through art and take risks by standing on stages. We clapped for the deaf and wondered how they felt the beat as they spun on stage in their wheelchairs.

We wondered. We marvelled. We built. We learned. We walked. We held. We worked.

And yes, work can be exhausting, but god damn if I would rather be doing anything else. And it is just Tuesday! We are off to Kenya in three days and who knows what we will be doing there.

Thank you to UWCSEA and everyone who makes it such an amazing place. You know who you are.

….

Observations:

• Following your passion is tiring, but the good kind- that leaves you spent and ready for more. 
• For better or for worse my kids are absorbing our values. I think this is for the better. I am so proud of them both. 

1. What do you do that makes you tired, but you wouldn’t trade for the world? 
2. How are your kids making you proud?