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Greetings from Mombasa where the fish is fresh and life runs on island- time. Mombasa is a vibrant mix of influences and flavours and laid-back-ness- a stark contrast from the rough bustle of Nairobi. Life is good in the company of friends, with the night sky, the sea breeze and the kindness of strangers,
Our new friend and tour guide, Sultan, loves his ganja, and as a result a lot of time is spent sitting in circles with the diverse locals discussing the state of the world and the concept of "one love".
Today was a great day. In the morning, Meg and I went to the shipyard and negotiated our passage aboard a cargo ship that will take us from Mombasa to Zanzibar Island at the crack of dawn tomorrow.
We had to write a declaration (by hand) stating that we would not hold the ship's Captain or the Kenyan government responsible for our safety whille aboard. We may have been signing our lives away, but it was exillerating.
The rest of the afternoon was spent making art- attack- style beach art with scraps of treasure/garbage that had washed up on shore and (of course) skinny-dipping in the Indian Ocean.
Poverty is the slavery of the 21st century. On the outside Meg and I appear at ease: teasing, laughing, frolicking naked in the waves. But poverty is hard to ignore. Everytime I pass a mother, a son, a child sleeping on the streets its sends me into a frenzy of muddled thought and frustration. And I know it kills Meg, too.
Beautiful, intelligent, caring people are held captive by the very system that we owe our livelihoods to.
We subject people to such inhumane vulnerability viciously using our economy as a weapon. It doesn't have to be this way.
Someday, our kids will look back at it all and marvel at it all: how we ruthlessly ignored poverty, how it triggered our collective conscience, how we somehow defeated it.
ONE LOVE
beck
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jess
non-member comment
while you stuggle to understand the plague that is poverty whilst viewing it first hand (i would have said experiencing it, but, as you alluded to previously, your encounter with malaria treatment removes you from the experience), i stuggle to figure out why i'm writing my mcats. how is my sitting in a room that i'm willing to bet is hotter than kenya (it's 40 degrees in the shade here) going to do anything for anyone, especially since i don't know if i want to go to med school? i just got back from LA, where my year long programme was wrapped up with the theme of "living with the questions." my question? now what? we'll talk lots when you get home. lots. be safe. and have extra adventures for me. send my love to meg. in love (and peace), jess p.s. one of my very dear friends is going to be in zambia working in a congolese refugee camp next month doing women's empowerment work for the un or something along those lines. would you like me to put you guys in touch?