What You Do Is Not Who You Are

The image on this post is me and a dancer named Pella, dancing on a rooftop in Nairobi, Kenya. This was one of the best days of my life. I felt free, exhilarated, and oddly, at home. This was on my first trip to Kenya. On my second trip, I stayed there...as in I moved there. That's how much I fell in love with the people, the culture, and the beauty of Kenya. Don't get me wrong, there was poverty beyond belief. And on my first trip, I enjoyed the privileges of a UN employee's lifestyle. But, I spent every day in the slums, shooting a documentary about the dancers and gymnasts of Sarakasi Trust.

Every single one was an inspiration. They all lived in different slums of Nairobi, where millions live, piled on top of each other, in tiny corrugated metal shantytown apartments. Some of the slums have apartments with bathrooms, running water, and electricity, but even then, the electric and water are only somewhat legal, and often have blackouts or the water is unavailable. Still, every person I met welcomed me into their homes and offered me tea and bread...sometimes the bread had ants on it, but you don't turn down bread (even with ants on it) when you know it's all someone has, and you would be insulting their culture if you refused their generosity.

In America, we see pictures of people in Africa, their eyes bulging from their malnourished bodies, flies crawling all over their faces...and yes, this kind of despairing poverty exists there, but the people I saw every day in the slums (both when I visited and when I lived there) were clean, stylishly dressed, intelligent people. People who spoke at least three languages fluently (their tribal language, Swahili, and English). People in their twenties and thirties who often has less than a formal high school education were better educated than the average college graduate in America, but unfortunately most could find no work. Entrepreneurship and creativity allows some to make a meager living, but sadly, most live on less than $.50 a day. This can present a sort of mirage for both naive Americans and proud but equally naive Kenyans, who have their own preconceived notions of white people, especially Americans.

As an American, our "go to" question, when getting to know someone is "What do you do?" Meaning, "How do you make money?" Which, when phrased like that is obviously a rude question, but when hidden as an inquiry about one's interest (Asthough we Americans all love our jobs!) sounds harmless. But it assumes one has a job. And for a Kenyan who lives in the slums, only about 2% have regular, paid income. They're hungry for work, and even though they don't have jobs, they get up early every morning, dress to impress, and go out with optimism, up for any task they might be able to use for networking, "hustling," for any opportunity that might improve their lives or chances to get work, or even improve themselves in any way. It's really quite inspiring.

As a Kenyan who lives in the slums, if you see white people, most likely they're well-off Americans or Europeans, media, or religious missionaries. In other words, for the most part, it's obvious--white people have money, at least that's the assumption. All whites, especially Americans, have a lot of money. So, despite the fact that I came there alone with very little money, it was unbelievable to most of those that I met at first that I TRULY did not have money. This ironic clash of assumptions--on both my part and theirs, made for quite a few interesting (sometimes embarrassing) interactions! But as we all know from middle school English class, when you assume you "make an ass out of u and me!"