Confronting Shuffering and Shmiling

I am finally here, in Nairobi. Let’s start at the beginning, with the “why”. Before getting into that, I love setting the mood and nothing sets the mood for me like music. I hope to share a couple of songs across the African Diaspora to help convey what I am feeling, thinking about, or working on. Whether you listen to it before, during, or after reading is entirely up to you. For the first post from Nairobi, listen to and reflect on Fela Kuti’s Shuffering and Shmiling and Damian Marley’s Confrontation.

So why Nairobi? Because it is one of the few places where I have felt a deep spiritual connection with the landscape and more importantly the people and the issues the people care about. So many places in Nairobi look like St. Andrew, Jamaica. You could easily confuse parts of the CBD with Downtown Kingston. There’s a stillness that forces reverence to nature in the upcountry of Kenya as you would find in Portland, Jamaica. Want to go to the beach? That’s only a short flight or train ride away from Nairobi--whether you choose Mombasa/Watamu/Diani Beach or Lamu (if you have a choice, always choose Lamu!), the authenticity and warmth of everything that is Swahili culture is reminiscent of the Rasta men and women who will reason with you for hours in Bull Bay, Jamaica. Beyond a connection based on similarities, I am feeling a connection that is deeper, one based on the social and political battles happening right now in several places in Africa, but especially in East Africa.

Those battles seem grounded in overcoming suffering or at least working to do so. Don’t get me wrong, like any other place, there is certainly a class of wealthy Kenyans who are working to protect their privilege. I don’t assume that all “skin-folks” are kinfolks. It is the antagonism though, against unnecessary suffering, that is calling me most. What is the purpose of suffering and what happens when we intentionally choose to look away from the manifestations of suffering? Acceptance and complacency. I am terrified of what it means to accept perpetual suffering and to become complacent to it. And I hate to point fingers, and I will be happy to point it back at myself, but as Fela shared, we spend so much time in our churches and mosques, accepting that suffering is for this world and joy is for heaven. I moved because I cannot accept that. I don’t think any of us should. I think we can turn faith, whether in a higher power, humanity, or ourselves, into action by working to alleviate unnecessary suffering. Some suffering is meaningful--you know the pleasure, growth, transcendence we get from long runs, a difficult hike, hard conversations, mastering the rule against perpetuities, teaching a struggling reader to make meaning from a text. Poverty, illiteracy, dying from a lack of basic health care, being killed because you are black is suffering without purpose.

I lived in the United States for more years than I have not. As a Jamaican, that is problematic for me. I do not mean to demonize the U.S., because there is suffering everywhere. There are so just so many systems designed to produce suffering for poor and black people in service of creating and preserving wealth for a privileged few. There is a special and enticing trap of the U.S--you too can be wealthy, your life will become more meaningful when you accumulate more property, more things, more fancy vacations, more debt. Have all of that, but just turn a blind eye to systematic oppression and suffering. This want for more instead of appreciating what is enough is the major distraction from leading a meaningful life. America and much of the developed and developing world promises that if you just keep grinding, if you just stay, you too can get closer to accumulating things. Just keep shuffering and shmiling instead of confronting injustice and working towards fulfilling relationships, purpose, and building communities based on love and equity. The U.S., however, goes further than most nations with its blatant disrespect and hatred for poor and black people.

I was deeply disturbed and hurt, but not surprised, by the murder of Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, Eric Garner and Michael Brown. Police brutality is also rampant and often unchecked in Jamaica. As a child, my favorite uncle would share the most bizarre interactions with the police. To be honest, for much of my life, I assumed that you had to expect injuries when questioned or arrested by the police. Yet, with a quick bribe and small bruises (whether physical or emotional), there was some comfort in knowing you would at least leave the interaction alive. The acquittal of the main charges against Jeronimo Yanez, the officer who killed Philando Castille, deeply disturbed me. The announcement of his acquittal was the moment that I finally decided to leave (not knowing where to). At that moment, I fully understood that not only was I unsafe, but there would also be no justice for people who hurt me and those who look like me. Mr. Castille proactively did all the things we teach people of color to do when interacting with the police. Even more disturbing, Yanez knew he was being recorded and is himself a person of color--he fully internalized that the justice system is not designed to protect people like Mr. Castille and me. He succumbed to an indoctrination allowing him to irrationally fear people who look just like him. And watching the video of Castille’s death struck a deeper chord of anger, disappointment, and fear. Do I need to keep subjecting myself to so much emotional violence by continuously watching people die even when doing their best to justify their humanity and their right to live?

And police violence is not the only manifestation of hate and disrespect towards black people and other people of color. The rising hate against immigrants and my own inability to control how I was investing my own money pushed me to leave faster. Some (still far too few) people of color are getting closer to economic freedom than ever before—but at what cost? As I look at my retirement funds and ETFs, I have to ask how can it grow so quickly in what we are told is a sluggish and at best mediocre economy? There’s a reason many of us are getting great returns on ETFs and retirement funds. Many of our funds prey on almost free labor through the prison industrial complex. My own money is being used to make the rich even richer. The hate, disrespect, injustice, and my own complacency became my why for leaving. It is deep shuffering and shmiling when I feel somewhat “comfortable” but those around me are catching hell, and to top it all off, I was investing my hard-earned money in a justice system designed to oppress people like me.

So with open eyes, I am looking for change and action. I am looking to the east because I think there is something significant happening across the continent but especially in East Africa. Pan-Africanism is back and it is rising rapidly. Ghana and Kenya are taking steps to strengthen collaboration with Blacks in the Caribbean, the East African community is expanding, and though often exploited by neo-imperialists, investing in East Africa just makes a lot of logistical and geographical sense. But I am most excited by what is happening and what could happen in education across the continent. With the rise of technology, the expansion of the middle class, a significant number of young people, and rapid urbanization, most countries on the continent are positioned to be innovation hubs not only for expanding educational opportunities in the global south but for low-income children across the world. There are no single solutions in education but one solution has to be the joining of public and private sector forces (I know, I hate the title of the paper too and I didn't write it so I won’t apologize that it is so long...just skim) to create diverse and meaningful opportunities for children and young people.

I love the audacity of Nairobians who are constantly fighting against corruption when many of us in the global south have just accepted it, demanding gender equity, flagging inequality in health care and access to quality food, taking proactive steps to protect the environment, and providing greater access to technology and trade through efficient services like Mpesa.

If you know me well, you know I’m extremely private. Yet, I am eager to share the journey: observations, reflections, sprinkled with a bit of art to identify themes and perspectives in the African experience. I’m excited to stop the blind suffering and shmiling and to start confronting sufferation and to share that with you! I suspect that I may have many beautiful things to share and other times frustrations. The most frustrating so far has been working with a local carpenter/fundi. I’m physically breathing slowly to gather composure. Be warned: unless a fundi comes highly recommended by someone you would birth a child for, stay away. I am sharing this transition with excitement and hope. A transition with a commitment to supporting and empowering people to become who they want to be and to create systems and conditions, through education, to grow together to end useless suffering. Karibu na safari!

I love you!

My dear family and friends, thank you for supporting me through the process of planning and eventually moving. I love you!

Mommy: I know you are still skeptical about the move, but you have always loved, respected, and trusted me. This support gives me the courage and audacity to make big and bold decisions like an international move without much fear. As you say, the day should already be here for people to migrate to Africa in droves because of the abundance of opportunities. I think that day is coming soon, but will only happen if we work at it.

Daddy: I feel like I’m living your dream. I feel, see you, and acknowledge your presence here in so many small interactions but mostly in interactions with buying fruit on the street side. As a child, I was always puzzled by the last line of your C.V., under interests and hobbies: being with poor people. I am getting it--you have taught me to be humble and respectful to all, but especially to those show up each day with zest and courage despite deep struggle.

SK and Gary: Thank you for being so obnoxiously bossy and forcing me to pack and send so much of my things here. I feel so much more at home because of all the things you sneaked into those boxes SK! But mostly, thank you both for your warmth, love, and FOOD! You are both such anchors and I am especially proud of the anchor you are in supporting Jelani, Daniel, and KC, beautiful humans.

Shaee, sorry, Dr. Davis: I am so proud of you, your dedication to growth, and your no-nonsense approach to life. One day, not today, but one day, I will learn to clean and maintain order like you! Your best creation yet is Xaia, I am so amazed by the exceptional human she is becoming.

Azizi and Sentwali: you have no idea how much of an inspiration you both are. You are black love and black entrepreneurship at its best. Folks, if you have not bought anything from Siwatu Jewelry, what are you waiting for?!?

Arondel and Nataya: I am so proud of what you are doing to honor and keep the memory of the beautiful and meaningful lives of Eli and Ishmael alive through Eli’s Knits and Knots. Though their lives were brief, you both carry a passion and love for children that makes me want to make the world a better place for all young people.

To my friends who pushed me and encouraged me in the last few weeks as I became nervous to move: Shaneish, Monika, Janel, Anthony, Johanna, Justin H, Selina, Denise, Andrea, Misha, Dianne, and Dr. West (your therapist can be your friend, right?) thank you for your kind words, prayers, and support. Each of you are such models for leading purposeful lives. A special and deep thank you to Miriam—Mish, you are my big Kenyan dada. Thank you for your love, patience, and kindness. You share so openly and beautifully and have made me feel right at home.

Rawtid dis is so long. Likkle more.

Love and liberation,

SD