It was evening in Kibera – the sky darkening in the twilight
and the stars brightening the sky, even on the edge of the city. Everyone was
home, relaxing after a long day of work and school. Enid, Masi and Maureen were
engrossed in a Mexican soap opera on the television, Francis was reclining in
his chair, listening to his radio, Agi was lying down, practically asleep on
the couch, Mama Agi was drinking her tea with the typical three spoonfuls of
sugar, and little Fadhili was pushing his toy car along the tile floor. We ate
our late supper together and, feeling inspired, I pulled out a now well-worn notebook
with a felt giraffe sewn onto the cover. Just as I sat down at the supper table
after a majority of the dishes had been cleared, the electricity flashed off.
Undeterred, I turned the small flashlight in my phone on and began to write.
Unlike most times that I write poetry or lyrics, a melody came to me almost
immediately. As I wrote, I sung and hummed along with the words that quickly
appeared on the pages. Before I knew it, the whole song was written. Excited, I
began to sing and within a matter of minutes, three of my host sisters appeared
at my side.
“You can write music?”
“Will you sing it for us?”
“I want to hear what you wrote!”
Still slightly shy about sharing my music, I started
hesitantly, but shared what I had just written. They all gave modest comments
about my song and wanted to read and hear some of my other works. I let them
browse through my notebook for a while and shared one other song I had written.
At that point, Agi sat down next to me and said, “I want to learn your song. Would
you sing it at church? I can arrange for it some Sunday! We could sing it
together!” Encouraged by her enthusiasm, I began singing my song with Agi
following along. After a while, she switched from copying my melody to creating
a harmony to my song. In about 15 minutes, the song had been altered from mere
words on paper to a melody with a complementing harmony.
Now that I’ve been here for a longer span of time, I have
come to recognize that the life and culture here is not all excitement and
novelty, but it’s also not all despairing and hopeless. It is a complicated and
beautiful mixture of both. Some days I find myself overwhelmed with feelings of
being so strange, uncomfortable, and out of place in this corner of the world.
Other days, I can’t help but feel as though I was meant to be here, and it
begins to feel like home.
In every moment, whether I am feeling ostracized or included
into the fabric of life, I need to find the harmony.
Agi had it right when she started learning the song I had
written. She began by learning the melody, the part that I was singing and had
written with clear understanding. Once she had the basic idea, she then moved
on to sing a complementary part, the harmony, to make the song fuller and more
vibrant. In the same way, I need to be addressing life and culture here. I need
to start by learning the basic melody, the basic aspect of culture and daily
life. Then I need to find my complementary part to what is already happening
here.
Because truthfully, I will never be able to sing the melody
perfectly. I am not capable of ever truly becoming an insider here in Kibera.
My skin color and hair, my access to wealth, and my upbringing in middle-class
America will always separate me from my neighbors and friends. I may become so
familiar with it that I no longer make faux pas and know the right things to
say and do, but the community will always regard me as the outsider that
decided to join them. And, if I’m honest with myself, there are aspects of my
own culture that I will not be able to ever fully remove.
Instead of being saddened by this reality, I need to embrace
it. I need to find the harmony that I can sing. How can I play a complementary
role to the life and culture that I see around me? What can I offer to make
life fuller and more vibrant for those that I come into contact with? For those
parts of culture that are good and life-giving, like the emphasis on family and
community, I can become a participant. As much as I am able and allowed to, I
can participate in life as it happens around me. My harmony will be sweet and
supportive, rising and falling with the melody. For those parts of culture that
can corrupt or lead people astray, like the use of shamans or witchdoctors when
medications and consultations don’t work, I can stand firmly against. My
harmony will be discordant, dissonant, and sometimes harsh to the listener.
Like many great compositions, my harmony should confront and then resolve with
the melody at all times.
This is my task and this is my goal: to find the harmony to the
life and culture of the people around me. And to do that, I need to first start
with learning what I can of the melody from them, the original songwriters.
