Africa

I suppose this is another farewell. I need to write about it for closure since I cannot verbalise my thoughts and the nagging feeling to express it is bothering me. I apologise if I sound like a fool in the process and sorry if I offend anyone. I take that back. I don’t care if I sound like a fool but I still care if I offend anyone...  

I miss Africa. I keep imagining seeing the people I know everywhere; in the streets or in the shops, on the buses or in some restaurant, in my imagination or not in my imagination - anywhere, any place, any weather and of course, waking up back in Funguo Estate. It all feels like a dream (not sure if Malta or Africa is the “reality”). It feels strange seeing ‘muzungus’ (white people) everywhere. I also miss the unpredictable life; the reckless driving; the chorus of “How are you?” chanted by the street children as they encircle you while licking stones off the ground as if it were an ice-cream; and the matatus (public transport - or clubs on wheels). In Malta I realise how much I have missed the fresh air, water, electricity and wifi and that somehow this place is reminding me so much of Zanzibar (but no starfish to save : (      ). I can now appreciate how beautiful Malta indeed is and how vibrant the colours are.

People haven’t really changed much since I have arrived home and I’m feeling rather disconnected.  I am feeling really frustrated  and impatient. It feels that all I can think of and wish to talk about are the people and the conditions in the slum area. Their poor sanitation system, the corrupt government, the homeless, the pain in their eyes, their radiating happiness, their lack of food and water,  the dirty water, their lack of electricity, their lack of education…  But it feels that everyone is indifferent and it is infuriating to say the least.  All I can look at when I see the beautiful dresses in the shops are the children who would benefit from that money or perhaps their smiles etched on their faces had they a dress which was not tattered and worn for days on end.

I also miss their hectic lifestyle yet the serenity that accompanies Nairobi. The ubiquitous feeling of ‘Hakuna Matata’ (take it easy) which I still am feeling but am worried that it will soon be replaced by the stress and anxiety of daily living. However I hope that just saying ‘Hakuna Matata’ to myself would act like a talisman.

There is a lot more that I can add to but I want to talk about my most intense experience in Africa because I feel it is important to express it and I won’t be ‘settled’ unless I do so.

So I did not go to Hell’s gate with everyone else on Saturday but went to an animal park with three other girls. The ones who went to Hell's gate went to the animal park on Sunday. I had a premonition that something will come out of it. On Sunday I caught the matatu to school. On the matatu I ‘lost’ my wallet. I cried my eyes out like a complete baby when I realized I lost it and was comforted by some friends. I was feeling a bit better 10 minutes later so I decided to still go to the school as I wanted to meet the parents of the children.

As per usual, you can tell that you are in the slum area with your eyes closed. Thick, heavy air coated with a film of dust as well as a putrid scent of garbage and diseases accompanies it. As we walked toward the school, some parents were ‘sleeping’ on the ground. For all I know they can be statues as they lie motionless everyday on the same spot. They are covered in dirty rags and look nearly camouflaged.

Some of the parents were already inside. Their unlined faces old, walking like delirious madmen. A sense of detachment was omnipresent and as if their only desire was to eat and drink. Over a hundred people were gathered sitting on the floor  waiting impatiently for lunch. We gave them food while they were stretching out their hands hungrily. Who knows when their last proper meal was? Some were eating while sniffing glue, their eyes vacant.

At that moment I felt like the luckiest person alive. I felt like a millionaire. Yes, I had lost my wallet but I had a roof over my head; education; people who supported me - people whom I could depend on… These people had nothing. Nothing.

I also felt that there was something bigger than me; that all my worries were futile in comparison to this grotesque reality lived by millions of millions of people. It was heart-wrenching. I felt helpless and insignificant. I realized at that very moment that giving them all my country’s money would not yield immediate results. There is so much that needs to be done that it would probably take at least 3-4 generations; education, sanitation …  all but their selflessness, sense of happiness and appreciation. It also dawned upon me that although I could not make a big difference at least my intentions are good and that there is only so much that I can do.

So I hope  I can now move on and return back to the usual routine but with a difference. It is impossible not to have these people in your heart and wonder about them as they continue to struggle with their daily life trying to make their ends meet; somehow, someway.