A Confession

I begin this post, my very first on this blog, a little after midnight. The late hours (or should I say the very, very early hours?)--when the rest of the world is still, when all of the day's sundry demands and distractions have finally tucked themselves away in bed--have always been my most productive.

It is June 12th, 2011. In just over a week I will be setting off for Kenya, one amongst the 440-odd students given the privilege this year of participating in the DukeEngage program. It is indeed a privilege, and of this fact I am fully, perhaps even a little uncomfortably, aware. A fully-funded, all-expenses-paid (and I mean all!) eight-week trip to Kenya! Two years ago DukeEngage was one of the noticeable beacons that drew me to Duke; now that I have been accepted, I have no reason to feel anything but happiness, excitement and apprehension--understandable, I think, considering that I will be spending two months in a culture so different from any other I have ever known. With no running water or flushable toilets (pardon me my pampered pettiness!).

Yet now that this opportunity is staring me two inches from my face, I've discovered that my emotions about my upcoming trip to Kenya are somewhat more complicated than that. Yes, I am happy and excited and a little apprehensive--but for many other and sometimes entirely different reasons. And adjectives alone cannot adequately describe how I feel.

Since leaving Duke I have answered many times the question "What are you doing this summer?" with a vague "I'm going to Kenya for two months." If prompted further, I dutifully provide more details--I'll be volunteering, at a girls' school, teaching English. Every time I say these words I feel a sneaking sense of guilt. It's not that I'm lying--I'm not, really--but honestly these statements are the epitome of not-quite-the-truths. I know I won't actually be teaching middle-school girls English, at least not for the entire time--our involvement will be far more dynamic than that. I only give this answer because it is a short, satisfying, and rescues me from having to verbalize what I really think--and hope-- my summer will be about.

The "half-truth"--okay, lie--I am most uncomfortable with telling is my volunteerism. It is such a convenient answer, and it makes enough sense--how else can I explain the no-flushing-toilets thing to relatives who know my sanitary preferences far too well?--but it isn't true, it isn't true!--and it puts me in a much better light than I deserve to be in! The word "volunteer" has far too many connotations. It evokes an image of selflessness, of servitude, of helping others with no ambition to reap material rewards for oneself. It also implies a sense of superiority--it seems that it is always the privileged who "volunteer" to help the not-so-privileged, as though those on the receiving end have nothing of their own to offer in return. This is not how I expect I will be spending time in Kenya. I don't think I'm going to help other people; rather, I think that the one to receive the most help will be me.

To put it blatantly: I won't be saving the world this summer. I won't even be saving any minute part of it. I can't really change anything with my presence in Muhuru Bay, much as I would like to, much as I will try. I can't eradicate poverty or inequality or disease or crime, I can't dissolve the deep-rooted sexism, I can't raise literacy levels exponentially or inspire a generation of girls to become college graduates in the eight weeks that I'll be there. The residents of Muhuru Bay may be glad to host me whilst I am there, but they would be equally happy with anybody else in my place, and there are thousands and thousands of young people in Duke alone who are just as and far more qualified than I am for this position.

On the other hand, I fully realize that Muhuru Bay has the potential to--and most likely will--change me. I am less than a month into nineteen; I (hopefully, bar any tragedies) have a good several decades of life ahead of me. More than that, I have a good several decades of possibility--the chance and the ability to receive an education in whatsoever I choose and use what I acquire howsoever I wish to. I know that my experiences from this summer may change my interests, my worldview, maybe even influence my entire future. Which is why I don't kid myself by thinking that I'll be helping the people in Muhuru Bay. These people have lived through hardships I can't even begin to imagine, these girls have faced tribulations that overshadow anything I, several years their senior, have ever encountered. My life has been so smooth and so privileged, my choices so simple, my responsibilities so paltry compared to theirs. How can I possibly expect to teach them, when, truly, it is I who is the one with so much to learn? What right do I have to claim that I will be "serving" a community of people who will be giving me so much more in return?

I expect that I will be deeply indebted at the end of this summer. Not financially, thankfully, but indebted nevertheless. And can I ever repay this debt? To be honest I don't know, but I certainly will try. Beginning with whatever I can offer this summer to the community of Muhuru Bay.