Editorial note: In a previous blog I stated that the population in Kibera slum is close to 2 million. There appears to be quite a bit of disagreement and uncertainty on this figure. A 2009 census put the number much lower: around 171,000. That may reflect the many people who became displaced after the post-election violence in 2008 and the difficulty of accurately recording population in that area. Everyone I speak with puts the number quite a bit higher.

Quail – to lose heart or courage in difficulty or danger; shrink with fear

Renunciation – letting go of holding back; opening to the teachings of the present moment (Buddhist interpretation)

“The infamous Kadidi and the boys of Kaputiei”
Photographed by Malcolm King-Fontana

What do fear and renunciation have to do with a travel blog, you may be wondering. It turns out, quite a lot. We have been spending our days visiting the members and projects of Jamii Bora. The scope of who they are and what they do is a mixture of complexity and simplicity, history, what-is-what this red hot minute, and planning for the future. We are entering deep waters. I will be sharing vignettes about these people and projects in the coming days but today I want to talk about things on a slightly more metaphysical level – matters of the heart and of the mind.

“And the beat keeps runnin’ with Martin on drums”
Photographed by Malcolm King-Fontana

Over the past days, there have been many times when I’ve been anxious, genuinely afraid, quite a distance outside of my comfort zone, and seriously questioning the wisdom and intentions of taking this trip.

Our first several days in Nairobi were much more challenging than I expected and they continue to be challenging. Logistics I normally take for granted require a level of planning and foresight (not to mention patience and acceptance) that consume a good deal of time, energy and resources. Things like keeping drinking water stocked, meals, getting to places to get groceries or buy internet time with the challenges of being gone during the day and unable to walk around at night, washing clothes (sending them out for washing turns out to be one of those unexpectedly expensive things), having a “shower” (we have a tub and a shower hose and head not affixed to the wall) that is other than luke-cool, finding a bathroom, remembering to take toilet paper wherever we go (ode to menstruating woman and how they deal with “feminine sanitation” here!). When we go out we carry things in a ratty old backpack and dress in a decidedly unflashy manner. There is the sense of needing to be alert and on guard all of the time.

“Dance troupe in Kaputiei”
Photographed by Malcolm King-Fontana

Add to that a sense of empathy, powerlessness, and righteous indignation that build up when one spends time with people who are struggling with such mind-numbing daily challenges, inequities, and injustices. There are so many people and causes I want to help and the not-worthless but strikingly feeble quality of anything that I can do, weighs on me. I find myself repeatedly angry after meeting people who are so intelligent, tenacious like nobody’s business, have a clear goal and are doing everything humanly possible to reach it, and they are blocked by so many seemingly insurmountable obstacles. The contrast between them and so many people in the “developed” world who take their inconceivable and unearned abundance utterly for granted, do little with the overflowing plenty they are given, and maintain a selfish and appalling attitude of entitlement and lack of appreciation or motivation, is maddening and heart-breaking. (I count myself among the guilty.) I continually wonder at what certain people I meet who are clearly more intelligent, creative, motivated, and bear with me, just generally better people than I (not intrinsically but you know what I mean) in most every way, would be able to do with a fraction of what I have been given, as I look in genuine wonderment at what they have accomplished and who they are, given what they have and what they have gone through. Imagine. Imagine.

“A fleeting glance”
Photographed by Malcolm King-Fontana

Now add that I came here (and Malcolm did, perhaps to a lesser degree) with some very dear expectations about what would come of this and thus how I would justify having taken this sometimes dangerous and admittedly costly trip. This is not the dream trip to Italy or France that we could have taken instead, despite our first several days of splendor. Both Malcolm and I are finding that our initial ideas about our respective projects are not bearing up to the realities on the ground, the amount of time that we have, and really the complexity and depth of what we are experiencing. It cannot be captured with a surface treatment and neither of us feels moved to create anything that smacks of a caricature of things real, serious, complicated, inspiring, heart-breaking, maddening, and joyful.

Enter quailing and renunciation.

“Poster children, Kibera”
Photographed by Malcolm King-Fontana

After our first night and day in Nairobi, I had a panicky craving for something familiar which I indulged by getting us a cab to the fancy New Stanley Hotel (I had stayed there during my visit in 2010) and having an over-priced and tasty dinner among mzungus and well- to-do Kenyans. We discussed finding more comfortable digs with access to the kind of food we like and more upscale accommodations. It struck me that this was in fact exactly what I came here in search of – not a reproduction of the comfort I try to maintain daily in my regular life but training in renunciation (Buddhist-syle), facing fear, and opening up to living a more adventurous and free life (in the deep sense of those terms) in a way that may bring some benefit to other beings. I met my edge and I was afraid. I wanted to meet that fear not by feeling it but by covering it up with the New Stanley.

“Toi Market, Kibera”
Photographed by Malcolm King-Fontana

I thought about what Pema Chodron has said about renunciation: that it is the process of starting to say yes to life, which is often first realizing that you’ve come up against your edge and that everything in you is saying no. And then at that point, softening. Simply feeling the whole thing, letting it touch your heart, and feeling compassion for your predicament and for the whole human condition. While I was struggling with this, my wise son, who is very fond of the creature comforts, quite simply stated that we should stay where we were at the United Kenya Club. And he was right. We are here to experience Kenya without the touristy plastic wrap of protection. The reason it is important for me to think about things on this level is that I want to allow this experience to re-shape a little or large part of me. I do not want to return untouched or unscathed.

Highlights of quailing and renunciation:

In this period of heightened sensitivity and vulnerability, the need for patience and basic kindness is so obvious that it is easier to be both.

Experiencing the phenomena of pride and appreciation in having this experience with Malcolm – the near maniacal bouts of tension-diffusing laughter, processing what we are seeing and experiencing, encouraging one another, bumping up against our spiky edges and knowing it’s going to be okay. Seeing Malcolm show up the way that he has continually, in often challenging circumstances: willing, open, generous, patient, and kind.

The numerous and on-going kindnesses and warmth of the Kenyan people we have met, oftentimes near strangers (more on that to come).

“The Kibera Girl”
Photographed by Malcolm King-Fontana