Africa Revisited

I feel like I need to revisit my African experience- because like this city, my trip here could not contrast more than with that to Africa's southeast corner. I am speaking on a larger scale than food, song, language and style. Of course, these things were very different. I did enjoy those components of Bantu life immensely. I want to address a deeper issue- one that deals with the nation- the consciousness of its people- the demographic of loss and apathy.
I was disappointed when I left Africa without saying I had the experience of witnessing cultural African events. I know this is part of the cliche international travel "Must Do" list- see traditional dance, eat traditional food, listen to traditional song and music. But I honestly wanted to see that. We travelled through remote enough areas that I would have felt any ceremony we stumbled upon was authentic. I saw none. The closest I came was watching a group of women on their way to church in Mozambique, singing hymns and clapping holy beats. It's not that I can say these never take place- I could easily have missed the right time of year, been out of ear shot, or just didn't know where to look. But it just wasn't the lack of ceremony. It was the absence of feeling in most people I met- most people I saw.
There seems to be an incredible void where motivation and enthusiasm once flourished. The stories are there. The dress is there. But it does not manifest itself in the present. One finds it in story books and history lessons. Was it taken? Was it destroyed? Was it forgotten? I felt such an idleness there- and it made me sad and uneasy. A whole people, mostly living hand to mouth, not a lot of change- not too much prospect for change- no real incentive for change. Everyone seems resolute on just surviving, and even that seems difficult.
Now I speak from a very specific point-of-view. I only spent 6 weeks there- I was traveling, and did not really connect with any place or people. I also did meet a handful of truly great individuals... so I speak in generalizations. But it's an observation that I consistently dealt with throughout those 6 weeks. I felt bad for even admitting it-even thinking it. I like to think the best of all people, value all cultures. But this culture seems to have been raided and not restored.
I feel sad for the Africans I met, and sad that I didn't see more incentive to turn things around. I spoke to a lot of people who have spent more time- our conversations inevitably turned to foreign aid and "philanthropy". So much money gets shovelled into this continent with absolutely no control over how its spent- more than control, no real interest. Donor countries either put money in to appease their national conscience and propitiate the public, or turn the "donation" into a loan, and further drive these countries- the poorest of the poor- into the ground. More funds are abused, misused, stolen, and lost than anyone can even fathom. What do you do when your goverment officials are beyond corrupt, have no interest in the well-being of their constiuency, rig elections so they never get replaced, and are kept in place by the donors who claim to be making a difference? The people have no choice in certain ways but to tuck their tales between their legs. They have gotten so used to hand-outs that in many ways, it seems their own hands have lost their ability to function.
Is their hope? Many people do not think so. The world will continue to think it's going to with non-stop development money. My recommendation: free education. All development money goes towards free and complete education for everyone- even money to families that send their children to school. Take these kids off the streets and out of the fields, compensate the families for lost income (which many kids are brought into this world to be). Not that this would solve everything- but at least we could invest our money into brain power- and brain power can turn into potential.

Electric

This country is electric- it pulses with its own voltage, hums to its own frequency. And you can feel it always- and see it manifest everywhere. Like I've said before, this is a country of opposites, contrasts and contradictions. I think the polarity is what makes each side so exciting, and the collective so irresistable. The old and new- walking from the Barclay's ATM to the shadow of a 16th century Moghul tomb. You cannot help but acknowledge the presence of both- such a difference, inhabiting the same street... a street that has changed, but one we share with distant figures with distant purposes. The history is thrilling and humbling- it adds mystery and awe to a place with both familiarity (KFC) and foreigness.
Walking down the street tonight, I was lured to a side alley by chimming bells and women singing- a religious festival of some sort happening, as far as I was concerned, randomly. But there's a purpose behind all affairs- not know is part of the intrigue. Standing witness is the enjoyment. The walls were heavily decorated with colorful flowers, ribbons, bows and banners. The miniature effigies of Hindu dieties stood tucked away in their wall nooks, covered in colors and swimming in incense smoke and candlelight. The small room radiated- living- brought to life by people and custom that have been developing for thousands of years.
You feel the energy of this place wherever you go. There is an inherent motivation in this culture- a pride and enthusiasm that I have not encountered before. Speaking in contrasts- within this country of tradition, change is taking place. Women (younger) are starting to put back the sari and don denim (though not a majority- still young girls wear flashy, but conservative, multi-colored veils and robes made of the most exquisite fabric- jeweled out and decorated with anything that sparkles). Western ways are finding their way in- but not at the expense of anything truly Indian. These people seem rooted- willing to pick and choose what works within their own independent and self-reliant way of living- and easily avoiding what doesn't. It hustles and shoves, dances and sings, creates and ruins, chants and prays, eats and sleeps. Even the silence here, however rare and relaxing, feels loaded with substance and meaning.
These are the impressions of a nascent Hindustani wanderer.

Isolation creates expansion

I often ask myself what kind of traveler I am. I suppose this is a common question- for there are a lot of different types. The Turn and Burn- do as much as possible in a short amount of time. The Dharma Bum- trying to discover some identity and deeper meaning. The Fratboy- party crash in every city and drink every kind of local booze. The Tour Groupie- follow a very strict schedule, where even "nothing time" has been allotted. There are a lot more, but these are the most common I see. What am I? Do I need to constantly be on the move- making friends- meeting people- conversing? Do I have to live in a ashram- speak very little- meditate? Do I need to see all the monuments- limit myself to inanimates and history?
I like to be on my own. I like to relax but keep my mind working. Is it bad that i'm not actively seeking out invitations to chai and chappati? Is it against traveler code to not meet other wanderers, drink at the bars, and establish as many international connections as possible? I'm starting to realize that the traveler changes with the traveling- and it works best for me when I adapt and bend to whichever current flows my way.
I like my isolation- it gives me space. In this space I'm allowed to expand. With so much to absorb, this space is necessary and I cherish it. Many people invariably work their ways into my path, and I can choose who to accept, who to embrace, and who to kindly turn away. But I keep to myself and enjoy the friendship of my very dynamic surroundings.