Just came in from fireworks, which were incredible, to find an email from my dad in my mailbox. lt's mid-morning there, and was hoping to hear from him on the New Year, also in large part because there is rioting in Kenya over the latest elections, and l wanted to know if he was alright.
Here is his response.
"Yes, things are very tense and unsettled here. Lots of rioting, roughly 125 dead, but almost all of it is in the downtown areas of cities and the slum areas (mostly Nairobi, Kisumu, and Mombasa). Kibaki literally stole the election from Raila Odinga (rigging, very obvious rigging) and people are really pissed. Odinga has called on his supporters to do a peaceful protest rally on Thursday, 3rd, and says he expects a million people to show up. He might be right. I suspect the unrest is going to continue until one way or another Kibaki is forced to step down. I just don't see people giving in to his theft of the election. So we might be in for several months of unrest. Hopefully it won't take that long, but who knows?
Meanwhile it's bad. Angelina, my house help, had her house in Kawangware burned down and lost everything but one bed and a few clothes. Fanice, Cathy's <dad's ex> house help, also had her house in Kawangware burned down. Josephine almost had her's burned too but the police showed up just in time and prevented it happening. But she was really scared. In the midst of it, she sent me a text saying houses were burning and her's would probably be burned and she didn't know if they would survive. When I finally managed to get through to her on the phone, she said the police had arrived just in time and they were all OK (Angelina and Fanice too). I finally decided to go out today (without Aidan <that's my little brother>) to try to help Victor find food for him and Vincent and to try to find some phone scratch cards so Josephine would have some credit to be able to call if she needed help (or if Angelina or Fanice did). Everything was shut down tight. At Yaya <the local mall>, the guards there weren't even letting people into the parking areas. On Ngong Road near the Nakumatt closest to Yaya, there were smoking embers of a burned barricade in the middle of the road and a couple of military men standing by. I finally left Victor at Adams Arcade and he managed to find some food and, later, some phone cards. But people are really worried. They know people won't let Kibaki stay but don't know what the country is going to have to go through in order to get him out. And unfortunately it's turned into a tribal thing and a lot of the fighting, attacking, and burning of houses and businesses is Kikuyus (Kibaki) attacking Luos (Odinga) or vice versa. It's the most open and virulent tribal strife since Kenya got independence, and that obviously also has people worried. There's a real chance it could turn into open warfare, especially in the western areas, but hopefully it won't come to that. But it could leave wounds that make tribalism a major issue for years to come and that would really be a tragedy."
As you can tell, not only is the place l consider my homeland falling apart, the two men l love most (and some of my dearest childhood friends) are smack in the middle of it, and before it's even gotten to the REALLY ugly part, they're already having trouble finding food. For those of you who ever wondered what real anarchy might be like, or who are anarchists yourselves but have yet to really experience it, here you go. Nairobi has the highest urban population in East Africa, with an estimated population of between 3 and 4 million (according to the 1999 Census, 2,143,254 inhabitants in the administrative area of Nairobi lived within 684 square kilometers). This could literally halt the economy, and force a significant percentage of that very large population into starvation pretty much overnight. Imagine what kind of chaos that creates. And what happens if an initially peaceful protest of a MILLION people goes awry? l was literally and physically right in the very middle of the riots that followed the death of Robert Ouko at twelve or fourteen, and THAT mob was probably only a couple of hundred people, but l can tell you l've never been so scared in my life. Maybe THIS is what the American people are afraid of when it comes to rebelling against a president for whom they did not vote. l can't say l really blame them at this very moment.
Meanwhile, my father is risking his life to feed his son with food that seems to be fast running scarce.
On top of all this, l was informed that my dad's ex said she was buying a house in Sydney and may try and take my brother back to Sydney with her, in which case he and l may never see him again. Her contract in Nairobi isn't up for two years - and the divorce isn't even final - but there's nothing stopping her from booking a ticket and flying my brother out on one of the nights or weekends that he's at her place. The chances of that happening just increased 20-50% now that the city is so unsafe.
My New Year has suddenly become far more than a bad sunburn and a day at the beach. Now l have this: www.cnn.com/video/#/vide...tion.wrap.itn
Terrified Ali
Monday, December 31, 2007
What a vacation.
l went to the beach.
lt was awesome. Met new in-laws, welcomed young new life, met more family friends, and got to know them all better than l had the last time l'd seen them, or at least from the moment we met.
lt rained every day but two. Yesterday was one of them. It was our last day at the beach, and l was really pissed about that since l wanted to go out and dance with the young generation and have a New Year blowout, but my flight leaves tomorrow morning, and it wasn't possible.
Turns out dancing wouldn't be possible anyway. Yesterday being one of the sunny days, l went out, walked four miles around the beach, and forgot to apply a second layer of lotion to my legs. l am now swollen to twice my size, and one would wonder if l was pregnant by the looks of my ankles. My man suggested they might be second degree burns, and l'm thinking he may be right. l walk kind of like a duck so my legs don't rub together and chafe any more than necessary, and my ankles are so stiff and tight that they won't move properly, which means that even if l WAS still at the beach, there'd be nooooo dancin for the Ali, not a chance.
So we went out to a lovely french dinner. My mother dressed me up in her clothes, and l never thought l'd say this, but l looked smashing. l asked her if she was dressing me up for the fun of it, or if she didn't think what l brought would look good enough. She said a little of both. l was slightly offended, but l think she thought l was going to wear my bathing suit coverup, since she hadn't seen the outfit l packed. lt was cute and amusingly honest nonetheless, but as l said, l looked damn good, so hey, who gets to play such fun dressup with their moms at 31?? :)
So the family's all gone to bed, and l'm sitting here, about to finish this blog, as it's going to be New Year's in Costa Rica in about 8 minutes. l will walk out on my mom's patio, which overlooks the entire city of San Jose, finish my celebratory drink, have a cigarettte, watch the fireworks, count my blessings and reflect upon the year past and the one to come, and go to bed, a pleasantly buzzed, extremely itchy, slightly injured but very contented lobster.
Happy New Year, yáll. (apparently costa rican style, since my mom's computer is possessed by some spanish program that wants to add accents to all of my shit)
lt was awesome. Met new in-laws, welcomed young new life, met more family friends, and got to know them all better than l had the last time l'd seen them, or at least from the moment we met.
lt rained every day but two. Yesterday was one of them. It was our last day at the beach, and l was really pissed about that since l wanted to go out and dance with the young generation and have a New Year blowout, but my flight leaves tomorrow morning, and it wasn't possible.
Turns out dancing wouldn't be possible anyway. Yesterday being one of the sunny days, l went out, walked four miles around the beach, and forgot to apply a second layer of lotion to my legs. l am now swollen to twice my size, and one would wonder if l was pregnant by the looks of my ankles. My man suggested they might be second degree burns, and l'm thinking he may be right. l walk kind of like a duck so my legs don't rub together and chafe any more than necessary, and my ankles are so stiff and tight that they won't move properly, which means that even if l WAS still at the beach, there'd be nooooo dancin for the Ali, not a chance.
So we went out to a lovely french dinner. My mother dressed me up in her clothes, and l never thought l'd say this, but l looked smashing. l asked her if she was dressing me up for the fun of it, or if she didn't think what l brought would look good enough. She said a little of both. l was slightly offended, but l think she thought l was going to wear my bathing suit coverup, since she hadn't seen the outfit l packed. lt was cute and amusingly honest nonetheless, but as l said, l looked damn good, so hey, who gets to play such fun dressup with their moms at 31?? :)
So the family's all gone to bed, and l'm sitting here, about to finish this blog, as it's going to be New Year's in Costa Rica in about 8 minutes. l will walk out on my mom's patio, which overlooks the entire city of San Jose, finish my celebratory drink, have a cigarettte, watch the fireworks, count my blessings and reflect upon the year past and the one to come, and go to bed, a pleasantly buzzed, extremely itchy, slightly injured but very contented lobster.
Happy New Year, yáll. (apparently costa rican style, since my mom's computer is possessed by some spanish program that wants to add accents to all of my shit)
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Costa Rrrrrrrriiiiiiicaaaaaaa, baby!
l leave for Costa Rica in two days. Off to see my mother, and the Texan side of the family, who's also flying down, and whom l haven't seen in something like five or six years...maybe seven....ack. Anyway, it'll be really kickass to see them.
My grandmother will also be flying down. She's now 91. She's always looked two decades younger than she was, and has always been spry. l think this will be the first time l see her at her own age. l'm not sure how l feel about that. l've honestly never liked her much. l liked her a lot more when my grandfather was still alive. He was her raison d'etre, and l think after his death, the world became a very ugly place for her. She didn't feel like she belonged amongst all this technology, this rap stuff, this world that had changed so much since she was a child. And when my grandad died, l think the world took from her the only human being who ever understood her. Since then, she has just been generally disapproving of everything, and my mom catches the most hell for that. She just can't seem to do anything right in her mother's eyes, and l wonder if that's why my mother has been so very patient with me through all my stupid bullshit - even times when l probably would have benefited more from a kick in the ass than a loving, accommodating response. l can't imagine how painful it must be to grow up with a parent who never quite appreciates you...no matter how admirable and mature you prove yourself to be.
But l had my moments with the grandmother too. After my mom and l moved back from Kenya, we stayed with my grandmother for a few months. lt was shortly after my grandad's passing, so we helped her pack up his stuff, and l think she needed the company. But she made my life miserable. lt didn't help l was seventeen and adjusting to some major changes of my own, but l discovered during this time, for the first time, that she was racist. My best friend's boyfriend was Mexican, and one day when they picked me up, my grandmother made some comment about how he didn't belong in that neighborhood. They picked me up a block away after that. l realize now that l should have had the presence of mind to remember she was in mourning and l should have been more considerate.
l realize now that she just feels LOST. She doesn't know how to navigate this world that moves so fast, and she has nobody to compare this growth with. And l realize that because l never had much in common with her, l never actually TALKED to her, and l certainly didn't listen. l never asked her how she felt about the life she lived and what she'd seen, or the life lessons she felt she'd been given. To me, she was just some woman born almost a century ago, restricted by misogyny, war, and financial depression, in small town Waco, whose major excitements in life seemed to pretty much be bake sales and church. But does that mean her life wasn't rich in some ways?
l've decided l intend to find out. l wrote her a letter this year, apologizing for my general aloofness and disinterest. l pretty much let it all hang out, and owned my lack of compassion. lt was a difficult, humbling letter to write. But l think she understood, and l know she appreciated it. This year l am giving her a notebook in which l hope and will encourage her to write about the stories and moments in her life that shaped her, changed her, surprised her, and pleased her. l hope that it's not too late to get to know her. And l think this is my goal for this trip.
My grandmother will also be flying down. She's now 91. She's always looked two decades younger than she was, and has always been spry. l think this will be the first time l see her at her own age. l'm not sure how l feel about that. l've honestly never liked her much. l liked her a lot more when my grandfather was still alive. He was her raison d'etre, and l think after his death, the world became a very ugly place for her. She didn't feel like she belonged amongst all this technology, this rap stuff, this world that had changed so much since she was a child. And when my grandad died, l think the world took from her the only human being who ever understood her. Since then, she has just been generally disapproving of everything, and my mom catches the most hell for that. She just can't seem to do anything right in her mother's eyes, and l wonder if that's why my mother has been so very patient with me through all my stupid bullshit - even times when l probably would have benefited more from a kick in the ass than a loving, accommodating response. l can't imagine how painful it must be to grow up with a parent who never quite appreciates you...no matter how admirable and mature you prove yourself to be.
But l had my moments with the grandmother too. After my mom and l moved back from Kenya, we stayed with my grandmother for a few months. lt was shortly after my grandad's passing, so we helped her pack up his stuff, and l think she needed the company. But she made my life miserable. lt didn't help l was seventeen and adjusting to some major changes of my own, but l discovered during this time, for the first time, that she was racist. My best friend's boyfriend was Mexican, and one day when they picked me up, my grandmother made some comment about how he didn't belong in that neighborhood. They picked me up a block away after that. l realize now that l should have had the presence of mind to remember she was in mourning and l should have been more considerate.
l realize now that she just feels LOST. She doesn't know how to navigate this world that moves so fast, and she has nobody to compare this growth with. And l realize that because l never had much in common with her, l never actually TALKED to her, and l certainly didn't listen. l never asked her how she felt about the life she lived and what she'd seen, or the life lessons she felt she'd been given. To me, she was just some woman born almost a century ago, restricted by misogyny, war, and financial depression, in small town Waco, whose major excitements in life seemed to pretty much be bake sales and church. But does that mean her life wasn't rich in some ways?
l've decided l intend to find out. l wrote her a letter this year, apologizing for my general aloofness and disinterest. l pretty much let it all hang out, and owned my lack of compassion. lt was a difficult, humbling letter to write. But l think she understood, and l know she appreciated it. This year l am giving her a notebook in which l hope and will encourage her to write about the stories and moments in her life that shaped her, changed her, surprised her, and pleased her. l hope that it's not too late to get to know her. And l think this is my goal for this trip.
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