Hallelujah, we live in Africa

 Photo: Starehe Girls Centre (http://starehegirlscentre.co.ke/)

For the first months we lived in Kenya, I would wake every day and marvel. I would hear the incredible morning chorus of birds. I would look at the bright blue of the sky and puffiness of the white clouds. And I would say to myself, “I’m living in Africa.”

Coming to a country like Kenya had been a longstanding dream of mine. It dated back to childhood, and the lasting impressions I'd gained from watching Daktari, Born Free, and animal kingdom shows on television. It was corny and naive, but deeply rooted.

After college, I thought about joining the Peace Corps or finding other ways to live and work in Africa. But that didn’t happen for various reasons. Instead I lived in Paris and Chicago and Washington.

A few decades rolled by.  

I finally did make my way into international development thanks to luck, bold moves, and the right husband. Having a couple of graduate degrees and years of experience in gender, health, and communications helped, as well.

It was while living and working in Peru that I got my first chances to travel to Kenya and Uganda. And I was hooked, immediately. I loved the smells, the scenery, and the encounters with people and nature. I was amazed by the light and the rich colors. Nairobi was so green compared to Lima, which is in the coastal desert.

When Britt got a job offer in Kenya, I was very enthusiastic. He accepted the offer site unseen, having never set foot in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Of course, living here has meant adding serious doses of reality to the romance of my first impressions – and childhood dreams. There’s the frustration, corruption, and dismay at poor conditions and bad infrastructure. There’s a car dependent lifestyle for those us living the life of privilege, and inadequate investment in human capital for most everyone else.

But there are also so many remarkable people and experiences here in Kenya. I regularly meet inspiring programs and individuals dedicated to making a difference in the lives of Kenyans, particularly its young people, and in its future. The obstacles are great. But so, too, is the energy and will to overcome them.

Last night, Britt and I attended a gala dinner, which was a fundraiser for a topnotch secondary boarding school for girls, called Starehe Girls Centre. It offers full scholarships to disadvantaged girls from all over the country. Acceptance is highly selective, and the girls who do get in do very well in terms of university admissions and academic attainment.

The girls were at the gala dinner, looking sharp and lively. They tended to guests and supplied much of the evening entertainment. I wish I had photos to share. The girls looked great. And so did Britt and I decked out in our black-tie finery. We mingled, enjoyed charming dinner companions, and bought raffle tickets to support the cause.

There were lots of speeches and a crowd full of what one table-mate described to me as Nairobi’s crème-de-la-crème.

But the most moving and exhilarating part was when the girls performed, joined at times by a professional singer or just singing a cappella. They sang traditional songs, one Christmas carol, and a lovely rendition of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. You know the song. It’s been picked up by lots of artists and was famously featured in one of the Shrek movies.

Here are just some of the verses:

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
….
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

 Hallelujah, we live in Africa.