In the swift afternoon breeze, the gurgle of laughter plays mockingly in my head, I dare myself to reach into a box. The movement of my hands darting toward a book I was scared to open. In an effort to avoid… surfacing the memories… but probably more importantly… to avoid the awkward feeling of not knowing… not knowing a lot of things.

When we cross each other in the awkward western scene we hazard a guess and then we embrace each other. We ask each other how the other is doing and we smile, laugh and sooner than later we remember the coffee that’s now ready, the class that’s about to start, the computer with its blinking cursor… so we hug and leave with only the trace of our essence lingering behind. We don’t bring it up. No “remember when” and sighs of “oh yeah” with echoing chuckles. If someone does muster the attempt to bring it up, we look at each other and it's like we both go through a little roller coaster in our head. Our response is a mystery. Memories of that summer bring an ironic twist of suffering and happiness with the unexplained vision of a Fanta bottle. There are no answers to why we pretend it never existed. But maybe, just maybe… at least for myself, it is due to hypocrisy. Of how I have succumb to my weakness, to the power of my prior ways. And the fear, the fear of naivete that already exists. The fear of my nonchalant attitude. The fear of the question when? Then, in that chance where we think to ourselves later that day, in that weird comfort of solitude, how nice it was to bump into each other--we finally let ourselves remember… and all that needs to be let out can finally be let out.

You think that because it’s yours you can control it, but nothing is ever really ours. Feeling. Guilt will take you no where, only action will help your friends now. But even us western citizens can be hopeless and bow down to the feeling. As we all were on that fateful Mara afternoon in the field of wonder. Independently as well. I started to be creative with my mind in observing the details of my, our counterparts across the globe. It’s the little things, the smallest of small memories that I cherish. And sometimes as selfish as it may sound, I don’t find it necessary to share all of my thoughts and memories. They are my memories…

Jambo Kenya.
It’s ironic for me… and maybe it will be for you too. As we were getting ready to board the lorry today and as part of the morning rush, which always included filling up our water bottles to the max, Charlotte reminded us that it was important to keep hydrated. It’s a hot day and we run our energy high, we should be drinking probably equivalent to 4 times the size of our bottles (I later realized how 4 was often not enough for me). Our water was even clorified, the best motivation to look for in defining clean. Today in the midst and excitement of the children I found myself trying to hold 5 or 6 children’s with two hands. So I had my water bottle tucked under my arm. Naturally because it’s my water bottle it started to leak, not drawing attention to it, but this one kid wiped the droplets off of me. A puzzled look crossed the kid’s face, replicating on my face. Then another kid uttered “clean water”. Puzzled I was no more. The taste of clean water was unfamiliar to them. They were grateful for those droplets I shunned. I started to pour water onto their hands, dumbfounded of what had just happened. Little things, you and I don’t realize until we’re out there. Water, I finally understand the depth of a droplet.
Jambo Kenya.
-- Journal Entry: August 3 2006

So I dared myself to read my journal again. It’s easier to read another’s account of Kenya but when it comes down to reading my own, I hesitate. This version of the world won’t let me recover (if at all possible) without falling behind. It was evident in the pursuit of post-secondary school. How could I be advocating the values of education when I abandoned it in the puzzlement of this foreign country. But maybe it’s partly explained in the simple words of Jo Polniaczek, “it’s a tough world out there. We’ve only just begun exploring, because all along we’ve been taught the chosen material.” It’s just too bad what developed institutions will have you believe as being “ready” for the world. Or maybe if somehow the term “it’s a small world” actually made me feel closer to home I wouldn’t let the “re-entering” overrule. It seems that my feelings and uncertainties have a higher power.

But it’s time now. It’s time to put up a stronger front. Just as you seem to have when you saw me about to enter the lorry. I can’t re-enter completely, I’m not about to let myself do so even if I could. And if anyone should ever think I will--then clearly they don’t understand the value and power of this trip--or maybe know me at all. Sometimes I try to fool myself, say it’s possible. I feel like I’ve lost myself and will never come to understanding who I am the longer I let my soul deplete in this strange mask, disguised as home, but I won’t be fooled. It’s time (until the potential drop of another failed dream and my feelings overrule again) to reunite with the memories of my journal… because in the hope of helping them, I have also used them. Maybe Giffy the Giraffe will forgive me.

Two weeks ago I returned from a trip to Kenya with 32 participants from the Toronto Catholic District School Board in partnership with Leaders Today. Once there we were in the Masai Mara village working in Emorijoi Primary School to teach and build a new nursery school for the coming year. Below is a poem I wrote inspired by the trip and the leader of the group. Enjoy :)

Heart and Soul of Kenya
By Ashley Chen
Kenya Leadership Experience 2006

Anticipation and uncertainty roams Pearson Airport
As 32 believers prepare to cross the world,
Far and wide, through water, mountains, rich green and desert land
Different in age, colour, dreams…
Come together in the beauty of Africa.

The everlasting sky, marked with puffy clouds and the bright sun
Walking through the vast land of hills, grass and rocks,
The mamas carrying water stop for a picture
Somewhere in the distance, children are beating through rough grounds
With the echoes of JAMBO in every direction
The friendliness of every wave
Breathing in the Mara air.

A long walk to Emorijoi Primary School
to be greeted by energized children...
Maneuvering past cactus fences to hold our hands
Bright blue uniform sweaters, stretching by a loose string of yarn
Bare feet marked with callous and scars
Brilliant yellow eyes touched with dazzling smiles
A Kenyan child.

Walking through the doors of education
Eye to eye among sharp children with hints of eagerness to learn
Excited to hold a sharpened pencil and to own a brand new pen
Eating up every word that you say
Putting every ounce of pride into their school work
Working to the minute and right through recess
Aspired by a higher education.

Digging into the grounds of Mother Earth
Wheeling dirt, crushing gravel, carrying rocks…
For every sweat will be savored by a nursery school child
Mixing cement for the school a child will happily walk into
Brick by brick, a new group of children goes to school
Our future, our children.

An open field of possibilities
Mixed with culture and animated songs of faith
The mischief one, the shy one, the class clown, the outgoing one…
All embodied in the love of God.

32 believers come together in the beauty of Africa,
In the love of a Kenyan child
To touch, to see, to meet
Our brothers and sisters.

I have just started to become more aware of the opportunities TIG gives to share ideas and opinions so here I am ready to share something in a blog.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have become more and more involved with development issues. Being someone who is in a one gender high school I have noticed something gravely similar to the question of a feminist revolution.

Recently we celebrated International Women Day. In Canada we are fortunate enough to say that much progress has been made to celebrate the indigenous power of women. The Famous Five have helped us develop and given us the rights we claim today. However it surprises me to say that even so, there are still small things that we- young women do that contradicts the belief of feminism.

I have to say that I possess a one sided view as I am a true advocate for feminism. As mentioned I go to a one gender high school and I have to wonder, from pure observation if we have taken full value of our rights? Even though I go to an all girl’s school there are still opportunities for us to interact with boys. But there is a definite difference when a boy enters the picture. We just aren’t our same goofy self and are almost conserved to let out the women in each and every one of us out.

Here’s an example. Prom is coming up and I’ve noticed that from this one event a lot of questions have arisen. Prom is an important night to many, but not to me particularly. And when I see how this event has changed my perspective on some individuals I have no regret in saying that I am not attending prom. I understand that some girls may want to invite a “date” that is a friend, but why go out of your way to find one? Suddenly there’s a crusade to ask friends if they knew anyone who would go to prom with them. Or a relative’s friend, or even a cousin! And sometimes they will even pay for them to just come to their prom. It upsets me that this is happening. And here’s another question… why is it that generally a female is too shy to ask a male out? What is prom night, a time to create one final lifelong memories of high school or a chance to make one last attempt to create a social status?

Now this is not a vent session. I just wondered how we can start to promote equality in the world when some of us don’t even realize, or are not ready to acknowledge the feminist revolution. I don’t mean to pin-point at prom, but it’s an example of what I see going on around me in the young minds. I remind you that I provide a one sided view but can we not all agree that this is still an issue even in our “developed” society?

I want you to prove me wrong.