Courage

During discussions about my work here in Kenya, or in responses to my blog writings, several of my friends said “I wish I had your courage.” Whenever I hear that said, my mind starts to scramble through all the knowledge it holds and it always come back quickly with the same error message. It simply is unable to compute their meaning. The thought that it takes courage to be here is not something that even registers as a possibility.

Last week, my friend Lynnie expressed the sentiment while we were instant messaging and once I again I had the same blank reaction. I found myself thinking about the statement and my reaction during some down time this weekend and thought perhaps I was missing something that so many other people apparently are seeing. So I got online and pulled up the free dictionary to read the definition of courage. ‘Courage: the state or quality of mind, or spirits that allows one to face danger, fear or vicissitudes with self-possession, confidence, resolution, and bravery.' I read the definition second time (even looking up vicissitudes – 1) a change or variation, 2) one of the sudden or unexpected changes or shifts often encountered in one’s life, activities or surroundings).

Even with these clear definitions my brain is still unable to register the term courage in conjunction with my own activities here. Maybe it is because of the morals and values I have from growing up in the Midwest that I am unable to make the association. To me, what I am doing doesn’t take any bit courage. It simply takes a love and respect for my fellow human beings and my willingness to extend whatever kindness I can to them -- as I hope they would do for me if the situation was reversed.

When I think of people with courage in Kenya there is no room for my meager efforts on the list. Instead it is filled with the thousands of individuals who come forth to get tested and treatment -- risking family rejection and stigmatization from their communities. It is the women and young girls who are frequently beaten/raped and understand it as an ordinary part of being a woman. It is the students in schools who are caned for being late, being outspoken, or simply being. It is the co-wives and elderly grandparents who take in the orphans left by loved ones who have died. It is the children who have the resiliency to survive life in streets because they have no where else to go. It is those who go to sleep hungry at night with the hope that tomorrow might bring some small blessing of food. It is the women who have survived their tribal custom of female genital mutilation. It is the children and young adults that have manage to keep their households together after the death of one, or both, of their parents. It is the families who share their own inadequate resources with their neighbors. It is the parents who face their own death knowing that they will be leaving their children to fend for themselves in a harsh and poverty-stricken world. It is the multitude of individual stories of Kenyans who manage to live each day in the face of so many challenges.

So often when the words ‘orphan’ and ‘vulnerable child’ are heard the world tends to think about what these children and young adults lack in their lives. It is easy to look at see what material things they need and how they might (presumably) be better off with some assistance. It is much less frequently that one really stops to think about the resiliency and strengths of these young people that I see here every day. Some of the youth-headed households I have visited have been on their own for four or more years. I can not help but be awed by their resourcefulness in keeping the family together. They have already survived in conditions far worse than many of us will ever know. Even with the depravation of their most basic needs, societal stigma and family rejection these children and young adults continue to face the disruptions in their lives head on – day after day.

Courage is also the eight young (15-20 year old) women who came to participate in my first group session yesterday. All of these young women are orphaned. Most of them have lost both parents, and some of them have been the head of their households for several years. Accepting their new roles with as much grace as can be found in such trying circumstances. They miss their parents love; they feel stressed by their responsibilities, they know there are very few advantages of being a young woman in Kenya and they know their lives are not going along like the lives of other children.

To me it is these indivdiuals who get the honor of wearing a badge of courage. They are the unsung hero’s and heroines in this culture whose fortitude enables them to endure adversity with courage. In comparison, I simply helped to facilitate discussions about their young lives before placing a camera in their hands for the first time ever and sending them off to take pictures. That in my opinion doesn’t require my courage. It simply requires my hope -- that for a few brief minutes in their young lives, as they run around snapping photographs, they will get to experience the carefree and happy feelings of simply being a child.