a few thoughts.....

“White guilt” is one of those things I started dealing with in college, but sometimes I find myself stuck back at that questioning, wondering, confused place. I thought I had worked through it for the most part, but I suppose race, privilege and how it is that I personally deal with them is an ongoing process, something to big to be figured out all at once when one is still just becoming an adult (which I am still doing I think). I guess I think there is a sort of pressure, primarily from myself to have it figured out, to have come up with more answers. But rather than answering those questions these last two months have brought up more questions. Questions which are good, important, but often hard.

But I don’t have the answers and that is hard. Don’t get me wrong, I am having a fantastic time and in many ways my experiences in the last two months have been wonderful and this feels like the right place for me right now. There have, of course, been moments where I have not felt this way.

This is an excerpt from my journal a few weeks ago:

I am on the Beach in Diani right now. It is like I am sitting in a postcard with white sand lined with tall palm trees, blue green water and hand-carved fishing boats bobbing just off shore. I am with the other FSD interns. Tara is sleeping in the sun, Jeff is building an elaborate sand castle, Ryan is reading The Economist (which he paid nearly $7 for), and Anne is engrossed in her Kenya guide book trying to find something for her and her boyfriend to do when he comes to visit in just a few short weeks. Everything here is so horizontal: the sand, the water, the sky, even the trees feel horizontal because they stretch the entire length of the beach.

A man is approaches us from just south of where we are spread out. He is clearly heading for us, as we are the only people on this particular beach. I can see him coming for several minutes before he actually reaches us. Without thinking I inform Jeff and Ryan that, depending on what this man wants, one of them will be my stand in boyfriend. The thought feels a little wrong coming out. It was a reflex. The man has reached us by now, shakes each of our hands as he greets us. Some of the other interns don’t speak. It gets awkward. So I jump in and we chat for about 30 seconds. But really I am waiting for what we all think is coming, his sales pitch. As wazungu, we have become used to being approached by people selling hand carved wooden key chains, necklaces, polished seashells. It turns out this gentleman had a boat complete with scuba gear and can take us out to the reef located nearby. He says he will come back around 10:30. This guy is good. He doesn’t even ask, he just tells us. I explain to him that we are not planning any boat trips today. He says “Ok, I’ll return at 10:30”. Again, we decline, and he moves on down the beach, trying to find someone who wants to go out to the reef.

This is not an exceptional incident; rather this same scenario happens again about six times over the next hour. A man dressed in a bright red cloth, with yellow bracelets selling beaded belts approached us soon after that. His clothes were so bright, it was apparent he was wearing a costume and not his regular clothes. It turns out these are in fact his work clothes, meant to make him look like an “authentic” African, for the wazungu tourists who frequent this area. We all pass on the beaded belts, the hair braiding, the beach side massages, necklaces and other good that are solicited. I feel like shit telling people no over and over again, but I really don’t want anything.

After one man tries to sell us something and we are each trying to go back to our reading, sand castles, etc he sticks around. It is slightly awkward because I want to read, I want to relax, I don’t want to have a conversation about where I am from what I am doing in Kenya, etc. After he eventually leaves, Ryan asks if Kenyans have the same sense of awkwardness as Americans. I am not sure, but I think it could be true.

I also feel like shit because I am resenting them. Here I am in THEIR country enjoying the wonderful scenery, but their approaching me on the beach is an interruption to my relaxing on the beach as I try to even out my “tan”. I don’t want to have to think about the fact that there are few options for them and that there are probably 120 things they would rather be doing that approaching white people on the beach trying to sell their wares. After thinking about it for a while I realize that the thing I hate the most is the power dynamic. I have the power to promote them and I am being inundated with the opportunity to do so. In everything I have done for the last two months there is a pressure to buy stuff, which I am a pro at ignoring. But I am expected to be able to pay. In this instance on the beach I feel about to boil over. I hate having this power dynamic. I don’t like the fact that my white privilege is being thrown back in my face with every “No thank you” I say. Right now I just want to BE.

But In spite of this kneejerk reactions I was having while I was at Diani, I knew the woman offering massages, the brightly colored boy with the belts are just trying to make a living. There are so few jobs and tourism is down by over half from last year, as a result of the post election mayhem. They know that mzungu come to Kenya on vacation and therefore have more purchasing power than most Kenyans. The individuals selling on the beach are doing their jobs and trying to make their way, so it is incredibly unfair of me to resent them for it.

Overall I think this questioning and searching for what is right when dealing with the constant inequalities I see everyday is healthy. I would be worried if this wasn’t a struggle for me. Sometimes it is really hard to balance my selfishness with my conscience. It is hard to see people who have so few options struggle to make a living for themselves. But I am realizing more and more that it is ok not to have all of the answers right now. That I can take each day as it comes and make sure to let the good things here (of which there are so many) affect me just as much as the hard things.