Aboriginal Adoption

I recently met a woman and we chatted on our way to the train station. Only knowing her briefly, we got into the topic of education and children, and not thinking whether it would be appropriate or not I asked her if she had children of her own. She said "No – I can't," and I felt bad for even asking.

She explained that her inability to have children of her own is what sparks her desire to teach and still be involved with child development her own way. She finds it rewarding to be both a teacher and general aid for students at her school. She even wrote her own children's book series, selling both in Australia and overseas. When I asked her if she'd ever consider adopting children of her own she said although it may be easier to adopt overseas, there are too many children in Australia that need a family. But I was surprised when she said that she couldn't adopt an indigenous child because she is a white Australian.

So of course I got home and googled it. With so many political issues surrounding the treatment of the stolen generation in Australia I could only imagine the backlash white Australians would get from even thinking about adopting an Aboriginal child. But if a family is willing to take care of a child and provide the basic necessities that the child didn't have access to prior to adoption, black or white, isn't that all that matters? The adoption question gets complicated when you look at the tension between the two groups.

Back in 1909 the Australian government began to take half-caste children (a child of white and aborigine parents) away from their families as an attempt to assimilate them into white society. This government plan to wipe out an entire people by forbidding them to practice their cultural beliefs and 'whiten them up,' lasted until the early 1970's. These groups of children are referred to as the Stolen Generations.

See now when you think about that the adoption policy starts to come full circle. Since Aboriginal practices, languages and beliefs are so important to their culture, sending children into white families threatens its existence. The Australian governments forward attempts to 'help' once before left long-term damage, why should they be given the opportunity to do it again?

Only until recently in 2008 has the Australian government acknowledged and apologized for past laws that allowed them to displace families for decades. The apology from former Prime Minister Kevin Rudd was a big step for Australians, with a simple yet meaningful "I'm Sorry." Even more recent, earlier this month talks about finally recognizing Aborigines in the Constitution were passed around Parliament by the current Prime Minister Julia Gillard. Yes, only this month.

But the debate over white/indigenous adoption remains. If a white Australian, like the woman I met, yearns to be a parent and want to adopt an Aboriginal child he/she would be given an automatic NO because of their race. I guess you can say there are white children that could benefit from adoption as well, but according to the woman with Aborigines only making up 3% of the population, and many living in bad conditions, compared to the white majority there are far more indigenous children in need.

Google said it isn't that white Australians can't adopt indigenous children at all. It's just that preference is given to parents that are Aboriginal, parents that are from the same indigenous community of the child's birth parents, or parents that are part of an Aboriginal community of their own. White parents are basically put at the bottom of the list, and have to be screened by the Courts before the adoption is final to ensure that the child's cultural identity will not be jeopardized as a member of a white family. The government gives them homework to make sure they learn about indigenous culture and teach the child their heritage.

I've been thinking about this whole issue for a while now and thought I'd get it out on paper, or on screen. Didn't think I'd end up writing a novel on it though. Feel free to give your opinion.

Peace, or as close to it as we can get,

Kenya

 

 

Sometimes I Surprise Myself

I drove myself crazy on that long rainy train ride about what to talk about with the girls. I’d met them before at the Powderfinger and Jet concert, but it wasn’t the best place to get a word out. Over all of the screaming rock fans all we could really do was exchange smiles. This time I actually had to speak. I kept asking myself, what can I say to these girls that they haven’t already heard? I shook my umbrella outside and I walked into the loud crowded cafeteria – felt like TYWLS.

A bunch of girls in uniform yelling from table-to-table, it made me miss my high school table under the clock. I spotted the director of development and she told me to make a plate of food. She brought all of the girls over and they immediately started talking, asking me how I was, laughing that my dinner was cafeteria food, and fighting over who was going to marry Usher and Justin Bieber.



The Struggle is universal: MLK over Aboriginal Flag



They asked me if all blackfellas (that’s what they call black people in general) in the states walk around with big chains, and if all the white people in New York City act like the ‘posh’ characters on Gossip Girl. I laughed so hard, but realized everything we know about each other’s home countries is based off of stereotypes. I explained everything best I could and they taught me a thing or two as well.  

They’re in grades 7-10 so around 12-16 years old – a lively bunch. Of course the director threw in the occasional academic question; we shared our favorite subjects and the ones we could do without. I explained the education system in the states in comparison to Australia, the prices, the holiday vacation time we get and how to survive in an all-girls school. They asked me how I got into college so we traded stories about how the Yalari and Posse scholarships work. To think I got to work with them from asking questions, sending emails and making connections with strangers who turned out to be really good people. I’m so grateful; hopefully I will meet with them very soon before I leave.

Speaking of leaving... I don’t want to.  Registering for classes at Wheaton next semester was my first reality check.

It’s getting really hot over here so every weekend feels like a beach weekend. Not a fan of the waterbugs though. They roam the streets like rats do in the city, and apparently some people saw some in their room. I bought the good potent stuff from one of the mom & pop stores over here (of course it’s illegal though) while the other girls are spraying them with Raid, which is basically soap and water. The worst was walking into this bar with a courtyard and seeing one stroll up the brick wall and no one even noticed or said anything. I know NYC is not the cleanest place in the world, but that was just nasty – I ran.

Oh I didn’t explain the Melbourne Cup! It's a BIG horserace, think the Super Bowl of Australia. The country stops to watch it and everyone bets and gets drunk. It was earlier this month and one of my internships threw a fancy lunch to watch the races. Everyone gets dressed up in these big hats. Some look like the hats women wear to church that block everyone behind them from seeing the pastor. We had a drag queen MC at our lunch, she was fierce.

Me and Carmen Get it ('Come and get it')

I used to be good at keeping the updates coming weekly, but since I started interning it’s harder to do. I’ll keep them coming though, even if they’re random free-writes, just so you know I’m still alive out here.

Kenya

Dear Daddy,

I used to be your shadow, sometimes I really want those days back.

But I crossed the street and now I’m walking in the shade.

I crack up at the memories and as I get older I understand you more.

You aren’t a bad father; you just say more than you actually do.

Seems like everything just isn’t in your favor, and once you reach out something is always in your way.

She picked up the slack then and still does; a responsibility left for her to do alone.

Oh she fussed, but she never asked for anything.

A trait I inherited.

You don’t have therefore I don’t ask.

And to you the blue uniform and hat equals dollar signs.

You got comfortable knowing that Kenya was taken care of, but never stopped to think of the burden I’d become for others in your absence.

It’s never been about money, but when college came so did the bills, second jobs, and headaches.

Scholarships can get you but so far.

But you always say, “When I win the lottery I’m gonna...”

And I’ll be there waiting.

You taught me that my sexuality is gold and only the finest kings deserve it,

How to throw a punch and block at the same time,

And not to believe the yokey-doke from guys.

You wear many hats, including father.

I will still do things to make you proud.

I can hear you singing that song off-key, “You’re a Big Girl Nowww, No More Daddy’s Little Girlllll”

Hopefully you’ll read this one day,

Thank you for making me strong. Love you.

No, Where Are You From?

I started another internship at a publishing company and its perfect, exactly what I was looking for  while I’m here. I’m still working for the non-profit and I really like , but to make a long story short I had to please Wheaton first and make sure I get all my credits, public relations just isn’t one of them. So I get two internships, each twice a week. Planning events at a non-profit and overseeing the production of custom magazines at a publishing company.

At an event last Saturday a photographer from a newspaper in Sydney asked to take my picture. I had no problem with that, and smiled from ear-to-ear like I always do; making sure each tooth got its five seconds of sunlight. He was an older man, and asked me where I was from and what my name was for the caption I guess. I told him I was from New York City studying here until December, but that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. He asked again, ‘no, where are you from? Ghana or another country?’ I said ‘no, I’m from New York.’ Then he said what every black person wants to hear; ‘oh you don’t know exactly where? It’s too hard to trace back that far huh?’ I let out a BIG sigh, and ha then said, ‘you can say that,’ and started to turn away. After that he said ‘wait I didn’t catch your name.’ I said, ‘Bryant like Kobe and Kenya like the country, but I’m from New York.’

There are some ignorant people in the world, and you’d think working for a newspaper would teach you how to talk to people. I used to be jealous of my friends whose family come from another country and have a place to claim outside of the US, part of me still is. All I know is southern, North Carolina and home, New York. Tracing back my family history is something I always wanted to do and in time hopefully I will.

To add to the lineup, I started my first day publishing. Custom magazines are produced by publishers for a specific company, so you basically polish the vision the company has in mind for their magazine. I was looking for some pictures to go with an article and asked one of the editors about what I should look for. She told me to look in old issues to get a feel of the client’s style, then added ‘you know, plain, simple, clean-cut and Caucasian, sad but true.’ I looked at her and said ‘yeah I can tell, the world is just lovely,’ – and I can’t wait to change it.

Kenya

Can't Touch This

Yet again, I got my butt tapped at a club. These men are ridiculous. Of course I turned around and yelled, giving him a piece of my mind. But I couldn’t believe he turned to his friend and laughed at me. As a result I got louder, in a very loud club no less. I didn’t want the tear to fall from frustration, but when it did I turned around and I walked away to the bathroom. I refused to let him see me like that or have my make-up run. 

I came back to where he was sitting and wanted to slap the grin off his face. So that’s exactly what I did! He licked his tongue in and out of his mouth to piss me off further (good job). So I grabbed his mouth in my fist and threw his head against the back of the couch, and said “Touch Me Again And I Will Cut Your **** OFF!”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like leaving after that. But I walked to the other side of the club and kept dancing, feeling damn good about myself. Afterwards I thought about it, and it wasn’t that he didn’t take me seriously. I embarrassed him in front of his friends and his ego couldn’t handle it. Mission Accomplished.  

No More Skype Dates ...

Mommy came and went for spring break and so did my computer. Sadly, my HP died out on me right during finals all the way over here. That's why the blog posts have been scarce. I can hijack my friend’s computers and use my internet-stick (since it's already paid for) or I can wait until the weekdays to come to the BU building. Maybe this will make me do work ahead of time since I have to plan the time I can use the world-wide web around my internship and class time. Then again it’s me – so maybe not. No more Skype and blasting music in my room until further notice. I just know all I want for Christmas is a new laptop.

On a happy note, I had a good spring break. Mommy's visit made me realize that I do miss home a little more than I thought, but I'm NOT ready to come home yet. I just want to swoop down, check on Nana, say hi to people for the day and be back in my apartment in time to make dinner.

I started my first week at my internship. And it’s true, you learn from everything you do and all the people you meet, whether you like it or not. Best advice – keep an open mind.

It’s starting to hit me that I have about six weeks left. I like living on my own. I cooked spoiled chicken last week because I didn’t want to waste it, then took a bite and threw it out. And I pick the little blue spots off my bread because I don’t want to waste an entire loft. My toast looks like swiss cheese; a little mold never killed anyone.

Shout Out to the Lovely Ladies of TYWLS

I wouldn’t trade my middle/high school experience for anything. I learned so much from each of you and it’s always nice to have an extended family of friends and mentors that I take with me wherever I go. Thank you TYWLS – for making me the Kenya I am today. Watch:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9cgzBm2Lwc

From Surfing I learned:

·         It works every muscle in your body.

·         Afterwards it’s hard to lift your arms to put on a bra.

·         It can be done, even in the rain. Who cares about pneumonia?

Being one of the laziest people I know, I wasn’t sure if surfing was for me. It’s not. But I tried it and put a smile on for the most part. It rained a lot – wipe outs were deadly, and nose dives hurt but I still managed to get up on the board! I would have pictures of all of this, but I refused to buy a picture package for an extra $50. You have to take my word for it – I surfed. The instructors were really nice, some were from the states and some were from Sydney. They laughed along while we got smacked with waves and slapped with each other’s boards. I got pinched by something crabby and stung by something slimy, reminding me why I never liked the ocean that much. But again, I did it.

I just read that paragraph over and it sounds so negative. I did enjoy myself! Everyone in the Surf Camp family was friendly and the food was good. People put a lot of work into surfing and my hat goes off to them. It’s a workout.

Yesterday was Labour Day in Australia so I didn't have class. Instead I went to Darling Harbour for Latin Fiesta. It was as close to Spanish Harlem/Paraiso as I'm going to get while I'm here. They had stands with spanish food and a bunch of performances. Good Times.

This is the last week of classes before the break and the swap in semesters. After spring break I have the internship all week and one class. For now I’m doing work for finals (fun) and waiting for Mommy to come down on Friday!!

Black People Don't Surf

It’s hard to compare two cities when you’ve been in one for 4 days and another for almost 6 weeks. We took a class trip to Melbourne on Sunday that I had no idea the BU people even planned until I got here. It’s a cool city, but for an older, more grown and sexy kind of crowd; whereas Sydney is a little wild and has a funkier style. Like New York, Melbourne has a grid system which makes it easier to get around, and they have diverse neighborhoods like your little Italy’s and Greek areas. They even have a bigger black population, I saw all but 5 guys and about 4 females during my four days in Melbourne (it took me weeks to get those numbers in Sydney). But who’s counting? (I am I am). Overall the Melbourne trip was a nice change of scenery and I enjoyed myself.

We went to Phillip Island to see penguins, sounds crazy, but there are these miniature penguins that live in burrows in the dirt on the Island. During the day they play around in the ocean and when the sun goes down hundreds of them make their way back to their burrows every day. Depending on the season there can be thousands of penguins on the coast of the island heading home for the night. Think Happy Feet. Whoever the person was that turned nature into an excursion for tourists is a genius. We weren’t supposed to take pictures of them, but seeing as I paid to see them I say why not.

We had to go on academic tours for the Melbourne trip, and eventually write a paper. The graffiti scene in Melbourne is BIG! One of my tours took us to see some of the graffiti lanes around the city so I may write my paper on that. If not I’d write it on the immigration population in Melbourne, especially the Chinese immigrants in comparison to Sydney or New York.

This weekend I’m going to surf camp. Yes….for those that are confused, so am I. I did it on a whim thinking I’d be trying something new and crazy, knowing damn well that I am the last person that would be caught on a surf board or in a body of water from the ankles up. We’ll see how that goes. Back home they say black people don't surf, and I said I'll try anything once when I got here. Apparently, by the end of the camp everyone gets up on the surf board. Then there’s me.

Keep you posted

From the Maker Herself

Daughter

It’s easy to take things

for granted in a family…

So many things can be left unsaid.

So just in case you don’t know

how special you are,

how easy it is to be proud of you,

or how much it’s always meant

to have you for a daughter

and see you grow up so beautifully

without ever growing away

from those who love you…

This is coming just to tell you

what a wonderful daughter you are - 

and how very much you’re loved.

Happy Birthday

The woman I aspire to be. Thank You

The Day After Tomorrow!

It's been a while, this might be a long one.

So I got the internship. I made my way to Gloria Jean’s (the Starbucks of Australia) to meet my supervisor for the interview on Friday. It was the first time I rode Australian transportation by myself, and I made it there in one piece. That morning I had a paper due and toes to polish before I headed to Edgecliff station. I slipped into my peep-toe flats and only polished the two toes I could see, ran to edit and turn in my paper, and power walked like a New Yorker to the train station. I got there 5mins early. I waited with my $4 tea in hand and Jenny walked in. We had a nice conversation instead of an intimidating interview. She used to live in New York, and a friend of hers even lived by TYWLS (my high school). Her daughter is an actress, really big in Australia, and is about to graduate from HS. Then we talked about work. International Women’s Day is a big deal for Women of Women, and they are prepping for an event in March. A lot of the tasks she described that I’d be doing I’m familiar with from preparing for events at Comedy Central. I explained to her how getting credit at Wheaton is like pulling teeth, so I have to have proof that I did real work. She was more than happy to let me write cover pieces or blurbs that she’d edit and post online.

The rest of the weekend I went to the markets around the city. Some of the booths are cheap, which is always good for me! But some booths are out of their mind if they think I’m really going to spend $50 on hand-me-downs. Being cheap, I didn’t buy anything. Eventually I’ll go back and treat myself though.





Sunday I went abseiling in the Blue Mountains. It’s a mountain range in West Sydney about 2 hours by train from where I’m staying. The train to get there is like the Commuter Rail (for my New England people) or the Metro North (for the Tri-state people). Abseiling is basically jumping off of cliffs. Yes, I had no clue. We had a harness, helmet, ropes, cables, the whole nine. First we started out with the small ones 5m, 15m and 30m (convert the meters to feet) so they could teach us how to use the rope and straighten out our legs. Then we hit the big stuff, like the Super Jump (I don't know how high up that one was).











Yesterday I had a meeting with one of the directors of a program called Yalari. It's a non-profit organization that provides Aboriginals kids with full-tuition scholarships to top boarding schools all around Australia. Sound familiar?

I told him all about Posse and TYWLS. I got his contact information from the professor of my Aboriginal Studies class. I told my professor that Sydney Uni turned me down for their mentoring program because I'm not a student there, and she immediately gave me his number. I could get used to this networking thing. I told the director about my interest in mentoring while I'm here. I want to meet people, not just be a tourist. He said he was looking for a mentor for a group of girls that go to Abbotsleigh boarding school for girls in North Sydney. They're in grades 7-9 and some have mixed feelings about being in boarding school away from home. Abbotsleigh is a ritzy school, and pretty white to be honest. He said they would really like me (I hope so) and being a black girl they would be able to relate to me more than anything.  I might be able to go to the school this Friday to meet them, and then make trips once a week.

The rest of this week is BIG. A bunch of assignments are due, my Birthday (Thursday), for those of you that forgot J, and field trip to Melbourne from Sunday to Wednesday. 

Peace for now

Oh Yes He Did!

Friday nights outing took a turn for the worse. I did have a good time, and I try not to let small things ruin my night. But tell me how I was leaving a club and felt a tap on my butt! I turned around thinking it was my friend and she said it wasn’t her and pointed to a man sitting down on a couch. I was heated! I swear I saw red. I walked up to him got in his face and said every curse in the book (sorry Mommy). I turned into a monster, and I couldn’t stop. I kept thinking ‘No he didn’t? How dare you!’ If you let people do things like that and keep quiet they think they can get away with it. I wasn’t having that! He knew he was wrong and didn’t say a word. Humph – I was proud of myself.

Saturday got better. Wrong Skin was so good! And my first time at the Sydney opera house up close. Even the bathroom was nice. The play was a love story, about two people that want to be together but because they are from different Aborigines tribes their love is forbidden. The newspaper described it as modern Romeo and Juliet with a little twist. For one the actors were brown. There was singing, death, crying and a lot of dancing. The guys in the play were the Chooky dancers from Elcho Island, an island off of the Northern Territory in Australia. The Chooky dancers are all over YouTube, and performed their tribal dances as well as modern ones in Wrong Skin. The entire thing wasn’t even in English. The performers spoke in the native language of their tribes the whole time. I love how art is interpreted and the message still comes across, even with a language barrier. It’s like being at home and watching Telemundo. The entire soap is in Spanish but you catch-on and follow the storyline while all the words go in one ear and out the other like gibberish. When we were walking out of the opera house we saw some of the actors from the play! So I asked some stranger to take a picture for me:

Sunday was the Festival of the Winds. It’s a kite show at Bondi Beach that happens every year. Of course the show ended at 4pm, and we got there at 4:05pm. The Sydney bus system is confusing and turned an hour ride into a two hour detour. But kids were still there flying their kites. Better late than never.

Little kid getting thrown in the sand from the wind.



For the next two weeks my Australian Culture and Society course is being offered in categories. We each get to pick an area we want to focus on and have a guest lecturer come in and teach us on that particular subject. I picked Aboriginal culture as my section; I want to learn as much as I can about them while I’m here. Redfern is a town over and they say it's like Harlem, I want to go.

I just got a call from my internship advisor and I have an interview for Women for Women this Friday! I’m excited. I have to email her so she knows who to expect, like a blind date. Can’t be too hard not many black people walking around Sydney.

Other than weekend events nothing else is really going on besides papers and class. I’m trying to NOT spend money; I don’t like to see the numbers in my account go down. The $6 laundry job was trash. My clothes didn’t even dry all the way so I had clothes hanging on the balcony, real ol’ school. And come to find out it’s not just the dryer on my floor, they’re all a waste. Tomorrow I’m going on a hunt to find a Laundromat around here hopefully it’s cheaper.

Peace

Boobs and Kangaroos

I'll admit, living abroad is cool and all, but I did get homesick the other day. I had a dream that I was home and woke up pissed when I saw white walls and the suitcase next to my bed. It feels like a far far away version of Massachusetts, but not. I'd definitely give Sydney more credit than MA. Since classes are so long, I have free time during the day and try to find things to do. I read for class, wander around the city until I get lost and find my way back, eat, and use my not-so-free internet. Oh, I did run today! There's a park across the street; nice way to start the day until your legs start burning. I usually wear two sports bras when I run for extra security; I'd hate to lose an eye, but I left a bunch at home. Lame. So when a friend said, 'Kenya your jus'ta bouncing' I said, 'Thanks I know,' with a smile. Unfortunately, gravity doesn't befriend us all, but for now I'll manage.

Yesterday I went to iron my shirt and there was a FAT waterbug in the ironing room. For those who aren't familiar, a waterbug is a huge roach that flies. Australia doesn't start out with small roaches, theirs come out the womb supersized. I just pray they don't end up in my room.

My mass media class went on a field trip to ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) studios. It was pretty cool to see all the behind the scenes TV and radio production. I had a revelation too – I think I want to work in radio. Just another thing to add to my 'when I grow up' list. For lunch I went to another part of the city and finally had kangaroo pizza. It was good, if you ate the meat on the pizza. If you take a piece of meat off and eat it by itself, it has an after taste. Someone said it tastes like deer meat, but I never had deer before. The restaurant also had emu and crocodile pizza, one day I'll try them too. Kangaroo is enough wild animal for one day. I cook pretty much every day and teach my friends here to cook too. They are all recipe illiterate; I mean that in the nicest way. Chicken, pasta, sausage, we do it all. Going out for food is nice and all but too much money, so why not experiment in the kitchen for free.

A couple of us have been looking up things to do in the city this weekend. There are markets, performances, art shows, and free massages all over. We just have to find them and take advantage. I'm going to see a musical/dance performance this Saturday at the opera house called Wrong Skin (it's an Aboriginal production), reviews will follow.

Peace J

Nothing in Life is Free…

Paying for the internet per page loaded should be a crime. Since it is not I'm a café crook. I go into random café's around my apartment, order a hot chocolate and go web-crazy. I'm never alone; I always bring an accomplice, because 'borrowing' internet should always be a group activity. Like today, I just left Well-Connected Café, (no pun intended) and got my Facebook fix.

Since I've been in Australia I noticed a lot of people stare at me. I don't even have to open my mouth to speak and they automatically know that I'm not from Sydney. It's expected, I know, but to be such a multicultural city I thought I would get less looks. But what can I do, by all means stare on. I was talking to my roommate and she even said she gets an arrogant vibe from some store employees or people on the street. As if we are dumb Americans, lost and confused in Australia. I might be lost and confused at times, but I'm not dumb!

Today I went into K-mart with a friend and an employee asked to search our bags before we left. The same thing happened in the beginning of the week in a mall and I took it lightly then. But if it happens again I'm going to flip. The thing about the K-mart incident was that my friend bought $40 worth of stuff; it wasn't like we just walked in and walked out, like at the mall. We'll just see what happens the next time I go into K-mart.

First Sydney club last weekend was interesting. Found out people don't really grind here. That was … lovely (sarcasm). Nothing to lose sleep over, I just danced across the floor with everyone else. Good times. Club and bar hopping is fun; I'm taking advantage since I can't do it at home yet. I found a hip-hop club over here! Funny story, at the club last night the bouncer got my friends to bring me outside so he could give me a rose. Definitely one of the funniest things that has ever happened to me! He looked like he could be Daddy's age, that was the shady part, but he wasn't disrespectful. I just laughed and said thank you.

First full week of classes is officially over. Each class is four hours long, yes FOUR, and they are all pretty late in the day. Mass Media in Australia is good; it's a small class and the professor is a really funny woman. We have a quiz on my birthday, doesn't get better than that. Australian Culture and Society is like a history class. All the talk about the colonization of Australia by the British and removal of Aboriginals is a mirror image of the British coming over to the US and booting out the Native Americans. I get riled up in that class!

That's really it for now. I'm waiting for my clothes in the laundry $3 to wash $3 to dry (makes me miss Wheaton)!!! Much more to say soon hopefully, like when I try Kangaroo pizza! Paying for internet has been making my Skype use very limited, so I apologize. Most of the time I'm on at night (East Coast time) which is when the BU building opens and wireless is free.

Peace,

Kenya

So Far So Good

DISCLAMIER: Most of this post jumps back and forth in time, since I haven’t had internet I’ve been writing posts in a word document as the days go by. Sorry in advance.


Good News! I made it here alive :) I’ve been in Sydney 6 days officially. The program coordinators are really good people and want to look out as much as they can. A lot of the other students are from BU and a couple others are from outside schools like me. But I still like being the only Wheaton person here.

My first flight to California was around 6hrs, and with my luck I sat next to an older Japanese man that told me how racist Australians were, especially in Sydney. We had the normal stranger to stranger plane conversation where Person A asks Person B why they are traveling to LA. And when I said I had a connecting flight to Sydney his jaw dropped. He told me when he had visited (granted that was 27 years ago) some Australians were overtly racist to him and were very liberal about sharing their beliefs, no matter how hurtful. He stressed how mistreated the Aboriginal culture is and how white Australians don’t even acknowledge the struggles of the Aboriginals because it does not pertain to them. In my head I thought, “damn, so Aboriginal is the new black (circa Great Migration to the Civil Rights Movement). Wow I really needed that, thanks Mr.”

Qantas Airlines is FLY! They have TV’s in the back of each seat. Not like Jet Blue TV’s where everyone on the plane watches the same thing, but touch screen TV’s with unlimited movies, music, television shows, games etc. You could even play a game with someone else on the flight. I didn’t enjoy any of it though – I went to sleep as soon as I got on the plane and only woke up when food came. OH! And for dinner they gave me salmon, I’ve never had salmon on a plane before, just peanuts. It was good too.

Jet lag is no joke. We got in on a Weds and I wanted to sleep so badly. But they say the best way to fight jet lag is to stay awake as long as you can. For me that was 8:30pm. Each day has been packed with new things for us to do to get settled in. So far I’ve registered for classes, got all my books, met with my internship advisor, attempted to unpack, and went on a scavenger hunt around the city. Sydney has to be one of the most beautiful cities I’ve been to. As cheesy and touristy as it sounds, I mean it.

The weather is FREEZING over here compared to what I came from. It’s the end of winter but it feels more like the middle of fall on the east coast. And now that I think about it, I under packed. The cost of living is ridiculous! Minimum wage here is around $15/hr! That’s more than I made in a summer. I went to the supermarket and a box of Fruit Loops was 7.99AUD. I laughed so hard and grabbed the no-frills box of Rice Krispies, Rice Puffs 2.99AUD. Since so much of their products are imported in Australia the prices are higher than they would be at home; liquor being one of them. The legal drinking age is 18 so I feel high and mighty going into bars and clubs that I wouldn’t be able to in the states. But drinks are expensive!

For my internship I might get placed at a non-profit organization called Women for Women. It spreads awareness about women’s issues in poor countries around the world. It’s goal is to rebuild for these women and create a support system for those who are victim to exploitation, war and poverty. The organization is based in New York and London and they want to expand it to Sydney. International Women’s Day is coming up in March and the woman I’d be working for is in PR and has been prepping and planning for this event non-stop. I do like PR a lot and Comedy Central taught me so much about PR this summer, but I don’t know if I want to intern in PR again, so soon after I finished up at CC. Since I’m in the journalism program I want to write more than anything and learn a thing or two on how to get better with my writing etc., so working for a publication would be ideal. But at the same time Women for Women fits perfectly with my interests and sociology background. I just hope that in the mist of planning for the Women’s day event my supervisor would let me cover something, or write a piece. I still have weeks to pick an internship; I just want it to be the right one.

On Saturday, the BU program coordinators created a scavenger hunt around the city. It was crazy! (in a good way) I saw the Botanical Garden, Centennial Park, Bondi Beach, and finally worked the bus system. Since internet is limited I'm rushing. But the pictures should say enough.

It's 5:13pm and I'm just leaving the student lounge to make a sandwich. Making food in my room is keeping my pockets happy. Peace for now. Updates will soon follow!

Kenya

 

See You Later

I’m the first person in my immediate family to travel so far. Tomorrow this time, I will be on my way across the country and then across the world. Alone. On my own. Solo. And for once I can say I’m ready. Ready to be scared out of my mind; by myself. Ready to put up with Kenya and get to know who she is (as crazy as that sounds). I’ve never done anything on my own and this is the first. In preschool, Nana was my teacher. In elementary school, the kids from my preschool followed. In Junior High School, the TYWLS family made school my second home. It created a bond that made the transition to high school easy and the place that has changed me the most. And finally, before coming to Wheaton I was introduced to nine strangers that eventually became my genuine friends.


When people ask “why go across the world?” I say “why not?” This is probably the only time I will have to go somewhere so far, and indulge in a new culture. And for this price? I’m there. This summer I read Ntozake Shange’s play "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf." One character, lady in blue says, “I usedta live in the world then I moved to HARLEM & my universe is now six blocks.” Well if that’s the case I’ve been in this six block universe for twenty years. I’m trying to stretch my universe as far as it can go, and then some. Sydney is just the first step.

Doing last minute preparations for a four month trip is crazy. Less than twenty four hours left in the US and I’m anxious. Double checking to make sure I have everything and freaking out when I’m missing the slightest thing. I’ve over packed, unpacked and re-packed all in one night.

With the addition of this blog, I decided to try something new. A friend once told me I think too much, so I like the idea of having an open space to talk about anything and everything. It’s a free public canvas, and makes it easy to stay in touch with everyone. I will miss so many things about New York and Wheaton, but I know both will always be there, waiting for me to come back.

To all my family and friends, thank you for all the love, it makes me feel appreciated. I don’t talk to God all too often. And from what I understand you don’t have to be a faithful church-goer to ask for a blessing. But please let me get there safely and in one piece.

I’m the first person in my immediate family to travel so far, but hopefully not the last.

Keep you posted.

Kenya <3