To Carroll

Many of you have asked about how I myself am doing, and I probably brought it upon myself to be asked such, since I perpetually ask people that, seeking a deeper answer than merely the physical actions that compose existence.
So here is a letter that I would love to write to any one of my Kenyan friends, a letter that perhaps is an expression of the underlying current of thought and emotion as I interact with nationals. They are such a beautiful people enrobed in a culture woven with ornate details of tribal traditions dangling and bumping against technological jumping that jangles as it collides with corruption. All this is held together by a rugged but spectacular cloth that has managed to pull together dozen of languages and customs to be birthed out of a prenatal colonial release and thrust upon the political, environmental, and economic wishes of the wider world. It is a people looking out at a horizon that fifty years ago stretched to the border of their mother tongue and now stretches the world around. And this is what I would say to those like me, but born of Kenya:

To Carroll:

How are you? How is your family doing? It has been good for me to be back with my parents again here in Kijabe. I am glad we were able to meet and become friends, and hopefully sometime I'll make it to Lake Magadi! Thank you for talking with me as we peeled carrots, it was good to get to know you a little bit. Are you planning on attending school again soon?
On that note, there is something I would like to say. It will be a speech from the spirit of American indomitability, and with it comes a disclaimer.
While it is true as I have heard some other Kenyans say, "You Americans, you always want more. It is never enough, you always strive for something better," it is also the American downfall. On the one hand, it is this spirit that has led the nation to become the world's overall leader in technology, economy, environment, and industry. But on the other hand, it has ripped families apart, as relationships are treated like commodities which can be improved and upgrades by trading out the "older models" for newer ones. It has also destroyed the ideological "sacredness" inherent in cultures, as the youth of America embrace their indomitability and strive for the next "cutting edge". The old, for the most part, are forgotten, and with them, their widsom. Interactions based on relationships are displaced by transactions based on financial responsibility. This spirit has removed the moral framework, labeling it "Constrictive" and "Archaic", replacing it with a social construct grounded in economic logic.
But it is also these very things: economic logic and financial responsibility that causes many Kenyan friends of mine to wish they could live there. It is the pull of indomitability that has swayed the world towards capitalism, and the image of endless wealth that has filled the hearts of the innocent with greed.
And I say this not as a criticism to America, but a warning to Kenya: for where America has economic logic, Kenya has respect for its elders and traditions; and where America has financial responsibility, Kenya has a legacy of familial and relational importance on which the social, moral, and economic handiwork hangs.
But to you, one who has partially finished a college education, I say this from the spirit of indomitability: fight for your right to be educated, to be of value, to be an asset to your family and your country. You said that like a name you cannot change the place you are from, that you cannot escape Dagaredi, but I say fight. If you want for yourself the ability to raise children who can all become professionals, be a professional. You are studying Computer Engineering; do not abandon that cause. It is a good thing you do for yourself, your family, your tribe, and your country to serve them in that way. It doesn't matter if you cannot finish school; become a secretary in an engineering firm. It won't matter to your children's children if you were forty and just finishing your college degree, what will matter is that by the time your grandchildren enter college they will be a part of a lineage that has persevered, that has not taken no for an answer, and that believes they are capable of making their own future and not subject to peel potatoes their whole lives, if it be their choice not to.
The young children of Tumaini spend hours a day telling stories and singing songs, and their hope is strengthened and reflected through their developing curiosity, but to the older children it is all books and chores. And I see the light of endless opportunities slowly fade from their eyes; the hope they held on to is assaulted by the harsh realities of the repetitive life. Do not quench your curiosity, dream of more than the next harvest; break free from the monotony of peeling potatoes. Do not forget, do not forsake, and do not condescend upon those who can do nothing more than what antiquity has handed them, but do not believe that you are also caught in the same endless cycle.
To you, Carroll, I say fight for your right to find your own place in this world: a place that upholds and honors your relationships and your family, a place that is shrewd in financial responsibility, a place that embraces economic logic, and a place that has a firm foundation in the moral framework given to us by our Lord Jesus. Carroll, it is a place from which you will give your children the chance to shake off the dredge of the repetitive lifestyle, and place where your family will be honored and yet changed, and a place where your country will be changed; it is a place where you will change the world. So Carroll, endure; struggle through so that your children will not have to grow up in a world where they must always keep their "dagger ready."

Your friend,
Kaben