Written by Pierce Gordon

I'm a brand new development scholar, one who just had his first real experience with abject poverty while visiting Nairobi. As such, I waited on bated breath for the experience that would leave me surprised, scared, astonished, perplexed, or disappointed, like the thousands of pages of readings told me I should have. I'm glad I didn't hold my breath.

The readings told me of the refuse in the streets, the coating of dust and fecal matter in the area, the crime, the lack of resources, and of course, the poverty. I had read of the Human Needs Project, the newly adapted NGO founded by Connie Nielsen, the movie star and passionate advocate, and learned about the failures of the development structure worldwide in assisting the poor. The main thing, however, that the readings failed to capture, was the most important that I will remember.

When I strolled through the streets of Kibera, as a different type of 'Muzungu' than what they were used to, my colleagues were astonished by things I wasn't. Karen Homes, the multiple-acre maid-assisted massive houses where we stayed alongside Kenyan politicians, were kitty-cornered by the Kiberan shacks. Others were amazed; I went to school in such a dichotomous area. Others were angered by the immense traffic backup of the Nairobi downtown sector; I grew up in bad traffic.

Others lamented the public services which lacked in Kenya, like buildings with a seismic code, or quality roads. My minimal time in rural China, our roads were delightfully atrocious, and cities like Detroit, where houses deteriorate daily, were too fresh in my mind to be surprised. I'm not saying the lack of amenities in Kenya should be taken for granted; I'm just arguing places are much more similar, if one is willing to look for the signs.

 

 The topics development 'experts,' suggested research papers, top-level officials, and seasoned travelers forget to mention, are the similarities of our societies instead of the differences. People live in Kibera, and are confused by outsiders coming to tour in their area. Scavenging kids who looked no more than five or six years old, took care of their 2-3 year old siblings, and do chores like buy 'drinkable' water for their family. Denizens see rich travelers, ask why they take picture of their homes, follow them around with broken english, and ask for food or money.

A friend, mentor, and master storyteller described the area as such: it has 'more entrepreneurs per square mile than any prestigious United States institution; if you don't work, you die.' Kibera's social fabric and mettle thrives stronger than the make ups of the many rich institutions I've seen.

This opinion of 'slum-shaming' isn't just shared by the international scholars, however; Kenyans share it as well. Our cohort was told by a charismatic, exceptionally quick businessman that work to advance those in slum areas are 'inherently flawed'. One must not work inside the slum, one must work to get people out of the slum.

However, our Kiberan friends tell a different story. We arrived at a software development institution working in a brainstorming session to find the biggest problems to develop technology for, and our Kiberan colleagues led the breakout discussions for their community. Though the issues are exceptionally convoluted, one of our friends put it simply: "We need opportunity." Not drive, not gentrification, not apathy, but opportunity.

The similarities doesn't stop in poverty, however. My papers about Kenyan dissonance speak about 'ethnic defragmentation,' or tribal disputes. Each dispute, as I learn more about their intricacies, sound more like many others I've heard. Generational land rights disputes sound vaguely like the same disputes on the Gaza Strip. Also, during the initial development of an Independent Kenya, an ideologically conservative Jomo Kenyatta argued for development without government assistance and a stress for ethnic over national unity, railed with Thomas Mboya, who believed government-led redistribution of wealth was eventually necessary, sounds drastically like current arguments between Democrats and Republicans in the United States. Though corruption is rampant in Kenya, many would argue those in the West are just much better at officializing and hiding their corrupt frameworks. Though differences between societies are vast, similarities are likely prolific, and not as visible.

 

Needless to say, my experience was a multidimensional journey into the depth of inequity, and the infinite tendrils through which it manifests. Each sixteen-hour day held a new lesson, more opportunities for advocacy, and newfound purpose. Though I will continue to work with this exceptional group from a distance, their spirit is sutured to my heart. My advice to the travelers? Travel in with no expectations, be open, and be kind. Don't hold your breath for 'slum expectations', the experience will change you more than you know.

Written by Diego Ponce de León Baridó

Growing up in Mexico City, and everyday on our way to school, my sister and I would stare at the two highest mountains in the country: Pico de Orizaba (5,600 meters) and Iztaccihuatl (5,200 meters). At sunrise, and after a hard rain, the mountains would rise over a thick layer of smog, would fade throughout the day, but would always return at dawn. Omnipresent, yet taken for granted, these mountains and their glaciers go largely unexplored by most Mexicans, including myself, as it took me more than 20 years to break away from the urban jungle. 

On the glacier at the top of ‘Pico de Orizaba’ with my uncle Hector and Kat. Spending time with family in challenging adventures makes long lasting bonds (Kat still smiling despite breathing less than 50% her usual oxygen intake!)

Urbanization, the unstoppable force driving the future of human settlements, is high (>80%) in the developed world, but urbanization growth rates are much higher in rising and developing economies. Where urbanization has a positive effect (mainly rich countries with strong environmental policies), society benefits: increased investments in public transport, less vehicle miles traveled, more localized health and education services, and a gradually smaller environmental footprint. In the developing world, however, urbanization is a force that has not come accompanied with better services, particularly because of inequality in the distribution of services and a strong focus on unconstrained growth.  More important however, and despite the benefits of urbanization, is our losing touch with nature. One cannot expect an urbanite, struggling to make ends meet (rich and poor), to worry about the forest or the groundwater that is being cut and depleted to grow food, or to worry about the glaciers that are melting, risking water availability for millions throughout the world. The connection between our immediate reality and the services provided by nature are lost in the city.

There are few experiences in my life that have been as enriching as mountaineering. Up there, time passes slowly, nature challenges you in a positive way, and the unmoving power of the mountain humbles you down to your feet, and to a few deep breathes.  You see water melting away, trickling its way to a river, unto a pipe, and to a city.  You see water making its way to a dam. Out there the connection is obvious, but only if your privileged enough to spend time outside, or poor enough to live off the land in some of the most isolated areas of the world. The space in between these two extremes is massive.

To me, being outside fills me with purpose and reminds of the interconnectedness of nature and society. The experience is unparalleled. But how can more people enjoy this? How can we bring nature, and these raw experiences, to the city? Making these linkages will be crucial in communicating climate change for an increasingly urban population, that doesn’t go outside. For now, I’ll keep exploring California, spending time outside with friends, and in the near future, begin volunteering with Bay Area Wilderness Training  (BAWT), an NGO focused on taking urban youth outside. I hope some of you will join me there!

 At the summit of White Mountain (4,300 m) in California, with Carlos, one of my best friends who works at PG&E and with a new found interest on the relationship between energy and the environment.