One Day

one day all of a sudden people will realize
they will see that forever have we existed

under the power of
what we cannot see, cannot hold, cannot comprehend

for to do so
would be blasphem, would be sacrilege, would be wrong

one day people will realize
all we hold most potent has been hidden
up the mountains, in the forests, under the seas

controlled, manipulated by the a select few who
knew the words, knew the motions, knew the artefacts

yet one day people will realize
the power has not been
up the mountains, in the forests or under the seas
it has been the mountains, it has been the forests, it has been the seas

the select few who controlled the words, the motions, the artefacts
they are we, they are all, they are human
they breathe, they bleed, they eat
they love, they die, they weep

why need there be a supernatural
when nature is super enough

why need the unknown to give us friendship, love, laughter
when we, as people, naturally learned we need these to survive
is that not great enough? is that not amazing enough?

are we secretly ashamed of our world, ourselves?
that we can admire its beauty but claim it not the most beautiful
how dare we be unfit to see the most beautiful!

why must we wait for a heaven when a heaven is around us
why must we wait for eternal friendship when we have had it all our lives
why must we wait for true love, when it’s been there from the beginning

one day humans will realize their true potential
and on that day i shall weep
for we will destroy the mountains, destroy the forests, destroy the seas
and the most beautiful will be gone

we will do it because it was a mockery of that which comes later
so we have thought
but there will be no later
for nature will turn her back on her own
and all that was natural, and all that was supernatural
will finally realize the err of their ways

humans never truly learned from sadness
they thought it only temporary
they thought the end would come and all would be good

but we had missed the point
the end had already come
it was already good
we were already living it

and we destroyed it.

A human again

So, not gonna lie, the past few weeks I have again felt something less than a person. It’s always been, “New teacher,” or “Mzungu,” or any other of the nomenclature I must respond to. Very rarely is it my name, and always is it something associated with a sense of otherness.

Today was a bit different. I had three experiences which made me feel like I can just be a person here in Mombasa, which will again be presented in my favorite information formatting technique, the list:

1) I signed “Good Morning,” to the deaf Kenyans who run a candy table near the Mombasa Posta. I was unable to stop and chat, which is good because I am unable to sign much more than “Good Morning,” and my sign name (which is sign for “Die Hard,”), but they smiled and I felt like I added something positive to their day.

2) I helped push one of the big human-pulled carts off the ferry. I need to get a picture of one of these on the site so you can see them. Basically Kenyans pull them instead of horses or donkeys. They needed help getting momentum to get it off the ferry and asked me, so I said sure. When I had finished and was walking off they gave me a simple thumbs up. Didn’t ask for money or anything. Didn’t even call me mzgunu. Just a thumbs up.

3) The touts (matatu conductors) have been more persistent recently about trying to charge 25 bob for the trip home from the ferry. It’s supposed to be 20. So I helped with a kenyan mama to argue that its supposed to be 20. They heeded what I contributed, and we paid 20. Again, no mzungu, just thanks.

I’m finding my groove. It’s good.

A human again

So, not gonna lie, the past few weeks I have again felt something less than a person. It’s always been, “New teacher,” or “Mzungu,” or any other of the nomenclature I must respond to. Very rarely is it my name, and always is it something associated with a sense of otherness.

Today was a bit different. I had three experiences which made me feel like I can just be a person here in Mombasa, which will again be presented in my favorite information formatting technique, the list:

1) I signed “Good Morning,” to the deaf Kenyans who run a candy table near the Mombasa Posta. I was unable to stop and chat, which is good because I am unable to sign much more than “Good Morning,” and my sign name (which is sign for “Die Hard,”), but they smiled and I felt like I added something positive to their day.

2) I helped push one of the big human-pulled carts off the ferry. I need to get a picture of one of these on the site so you can see them. Basically Kenyans pull them instead of horses or donkeys. They needed help getting momentum to get it off the ferry and asked me, so I said sure. When I had finished and was walking off they gave me a simple thumbs up. Didn’t ask for money or anything. Didn’t even call me mzgunu. Just a thumbs up.

3) The touts (matatu conductors) have been more persistent recently about trying to charge 25 bob for the trip home from the ferry. It’s supposed to be 20. So I helped with a kenyan mama to argue that its supposed to be 20. They heeded what I contributed, and we paid 20. Again, no mzungu, just thanks.

I’m finding my groove. It’s good.

A human again

So, not gonna lie, the past few weeks I have again felt something less than a person. It’s always been, “New teacher,” or “Mzungu,” or any other of the nomenclature I must respond to. Very rarely is it my name, and always is it something associated with a sense of otherness.

Today was a bit different. I had three experiences which made me feel like I can just be a person here in Mombasa, which will again be presented in my favorite information formatting technique, the list:

1) I signed “Good Morning,” to the deaf Kenyans who run a candy table near the Mombasa Posta. I was unable to stop and chat, which is good because I am unable to sign much more than “Good Morning,” and my sign name (which is sign for “Die Hard,”), but they smiled and I felt like I added something positive to their day.

2) I helped push one of the big human-pulled carts off the ferry. I need to get a picture of one of these on the site so you can see them. Basically Kenyans pull them instead of horses or donkeys. They needed help getting momentum to get it off the ferry and asked me, so I said sure. When I had finished and was walking off they gave me a simple thumbs up. Didn’t ask for money or anything. Didn’t even call me mzgunu. Just a thumbs up.

3) The touts (matatu conductors) have been more persistent recently about trying to charge 25 bob for the trip home from the ferry. It’s supposed to be 20. So I helped with a kenyan mama to argue that its supposed to be 20. They heeded what I contributed, and we paid 20. Again, no mzungu, just thanks.

I’m finding my groove. It’s good.