Lion King Africa

Greetings friends,

All told, this was a very quiet weekend. I had almost forgotten what those feel like. But there are still a variety of topics large and small that merit mention, so here we go:

Saturday and Sunday I came into town, both days without a whole lot taking place. The performance of Amezidi has been scheduled for Wednesday night at 6pm, so rehearsals and planning have begun to play an increasing role in my life. I spent several hours at the theater Saturday and again with the actors on Sunday. That is progressing nicely, and I'm thrilled at how well I'm beginning to understand the text. I still have plenty of problems to face, but this project is helping me to take big strides in a very short time. It's also exciting in it's own right, as we're doing the entire thing on the stage of the Nakuru players theater, a reasonably old British-colonial theater that has long since been run by local artists and art aficionados (including the esteemed Mwalimu Mahiri Mwita - once one of Nakuru's own talented youths, today my Swahili professor.) And when I say "we're doing the entire thing on the stage," I mean just that. The show takes place under the lights, with the audience sitting right on stage in close concentric circles around them, all with the curtain closed. For a show that takes place largely inside a cave and in the character's imaginations, the towering darkened ceiling, aging infrastructure, and dusty hardwood floor couldn't be more perfect. By virtue of a miraculous last-minute union of acting talent, facilities, and script, this is going to be a truly remarkable show.

Beyond that, the weekend consisted of lots of walking (visits to an American-funded, Kenyan-operated orphanage in Mangu, the family of a friend whose mother recently passed away, and a large church on the outskirts of town where REPACTED performed a peaceful-election play in preparation for the upcoming December 27th elections. (I promise, more about these elections will eventually follow.) All of these things were interesting, but none were extraordinary aside from proving once again that Kenyans, like all other people, care for each other (sometimes with a little help from the outside world), grieve for and support one another, and have hopes and fears for the future. An obvious message, but an important one nonetheless. And one that easily leads me to one of my favorite pet-topics, the American impression of Africa.

I call it Lion King Africa. And I don't blame it on any individuals or particular institutions so much as on our entire culture's lack of understanding of the outside world. (A forgivable lack of understanding, since most people never have any need to interact with the outside world other than the occasional vacation or business trip.) But this particular lack of understanding seems to be particularly entrenched when it comes to Africa. Most Americans can tell you what language they speak in most of South America, or could name 10 European countries. We even have a vague-but-not-entirely-incorrect impression of China, Japan, Taiwan, Korea, India and a handful of other important players on the Asian continent. But Africa is different.

Growing up, The Lion King was one of my favorite movies (okay, it still is.) Combining this with what I saw on the discovery channel and other nature programs, I understandably developed an understanding of Africa as the continent of big animals, safaris, and the Serengeti, Kalahari, and Sahara. When I matured a little, I also learned to recognize TV's numerous "for just $0.15 a day you can save a child" commercials as evidence of Africa's impoverished way of life. Middle and High school classes brought me a limited understanding that there had recently been (and still are) a number of violent conflicts in Africa, most notably the Rwandan Genocide, South African Apartheid, and today's Darfur Crisis. Movies like Hotel Rwanda, Blood Diamonds, Black Hawk Down, The Last King of Scotland, and The Constant Gardner sometimes carry important messages, but still perpetuate the understanding of Africa as a continent of strife. And high school health-eduction, numerous international conferences, and even blogs such as this one consistently call attention to the seemingly-insurmountable health challenges on the continent, most notably AIDS, sanitation and safe water shortages, and Malaria. (I'm part of the problem - who knew?)

It is certainly true that there are beautiful wild spectacles in Africa. And that poverty and starvation are always potential threats for several large regions. And that the violent legacy of colonialism has yet to fully subside. Health is also a major issue here, as I have frequently tried to describe. But the important things to remember, that I think many Americans forget (certainly including myself before I came here - and sometimes even now), is that these problems are not due to some inherent flaw in African people or the African continent. There is more to Africa than elephants, land mines, and mosquitoes. Africa is full of millions of people who are just like anyone else in the world, only trying to peacefully provide for their families and improve their lives. The continent holds thousands of languages (more than any other continent), hundreds of very distinct cultures, and 53 independent nations, most of which are making great strides towards achieving peace, health, and prosperity for their people.

The single biggest lesson I've learned (and the one I'd like most to impress upon anyone who has waded through all the self-righteous preaching thus far) is that our concept of Africa is often way off base. There is an enormous amount of tremendously positive stuff happening here (the arts are flourishing, people like the aids counselors I've written about are helping the people around them, and everyone is tremendously politically active.) Kenya is only one country, and I've only seen a slice of it, so I can't really begin to speak to the situations everywhere. But if what I've encountered is any indication, this place is much, much, much more exciting than most of us in the US think.

Sorry to be so self-indulgent,
Chris