To be an American…

Many people here in Kenya, Africa and really most extremely poor countries see America as this haven where all problems disappear-where you have money enough for everything you could desire. Whenever people approach me with this belief, I always work to dispel this sensation by explaining that life in America is hard for many, that many are going hungry and that, infact, many who make it to America with that sentiment end up severely disappointed and troubled. These numerous encounters have however made me reflect on what it means to be born American.

When travelling I always scoot across borders through inspection lines, while friends with Haitian or even French passports are hulled up and questioned for hours. In hospitals here, I present a card that says I'm US Peace Corps and I get the special treatment- pushed through to the doctor, no payment necessary. But being an American is so much more than being a citizen of the most powerful country in the world(powerful at least for the moment). It’s so much more than comfort and the abundance of food and material things. We have choice. Partially a result of being raised in an environment of relative comfort, but largely because of our surroundings-we are socialized into the notion and expectation of having the power to decide. Growing up in American society choice seems innate, built in, an inalienable right to human existence-and to a certain extent you can argue that it is. Maybe what is uniquely special about being born an American is the degree of these choices. It goes beyond the glorious decisions like should we have catfish or soysauce chicken for dinner-or should we scrap the whole thing and eat out? If we choose to eat out-what type of food –Chinese Mexican, Italian, Indian, Ethiopian…(can you tell I miss food variety?!) It goes beyond this to bigger more important choices. To issues like should I send my child to elementary school? Which highschool should I attend? What about college? What should I get my degree in? I don’t really like this decently paying job I was just offered, so I think ill hold out for the next. To CHOOSE to put all of this on hold and move across the world for 2 years. Its remarkable!!!(I do understand that for many in America choices are much more limited than those I have been afforded.)

No matter how bad life gets for me here, I always have the choice to return to America-home. In fact, it is inevitable that I will (even though my mom still isn’t convinced). Just this fact alone sets me apart. I can try as much as I want to live as the average Kenyan, to wash my clothes by hand, to take bucket bathes, to fetch water, to eat sakumawiki and ugali. I can be miserable because Voi is relatively ugly, I'm not doing the work I wanted and I don’t have those I love most immediately near me. I can feel trapped by my determination and this 2 year commitment I have made to stay here. The thing is, I'm not really. Trapped. People here live the meaning of this word every day. For some, there isn’t the option of sending kids to school. If they do, who will walk the 3 hours to get water for the family each morning? Who will spend the 2 hours it takes to cook each meal three times a day? Who will harvest the shamba? If there is an important agricultural show in Nairobi that might potentially revolutionalize my farming techniques and possibly put me at a surplus, I cannot go-too many people depend on me here to leave for a day. Its not a decision of which nicely paying, benefited job to accept, its hoping that maybe today someone will select you to pay an exploitive rate, maybe then today your family will eat. For most, there isn’t the option to fly away to a comfortable space when things get bad or you just need a break. You just go to bed and hope tomorrow is a better day. I want so badly to fully understand this existence. The thing is, no matter how hard I try to experience and live the way the majority of this world live, I wont ever. I always have America.