Double Consciousness

"After the Egyptian and Indian, the Greek and Roamn, the Teuton and Mongolian, the Negro is a sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted with second-sight in this American world--a world which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world.

It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his twoness--and American, a Negro;two warring souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it fom being torn asunder.

The history of the American Negro is the history of this strife, this longing to attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self...

-The Souls of Black Folk

I'm overwhelmed. (in other words...absense makes the heart grow fonder)

Yep. I said it. I'm beyond overwhelmed and stressed and homesick. I've been gone for a week and a half, but I'm feeling 10 million years away from myself right now.

In the past 10 days, I've done so much. I've been able to visit Caracas, El Hatillo, Rio Chico, and many parts of Higuerote. I've taken nearly 300 pictures already, I've eaten more arepas and empanadas than I want to recall, my skin is darker (I think), I'm tired, yet I go to bed at 9:30pm every single night, and wake up at 8am every morning feeling great. The sun is literally draining every morsel of energy from me, mentally and physically.

I'm not finished transitioning, and I feel like I'm hitting a wall because my mind is going 2,000 miles a minute, and my body is just...not keeping up. It'll take time, I know that. I guess I expected to hit the ground running...which I have, mentally. But I'm getting a physical kick-back that's taking a toll on me.

Also, I'm getting a bunch of e-mails asking for more constant updates. I'm trying, really. Venezuela is ALOT to take in. I already feel like I've been here for months and I've hardly broken the 2 week mark. Recalling everything that I've felt and am feeling even as I write this has been harder than I thought.

Also, I miss my parents so much and it's the worst.

Communication is a bit stunted so all of my conversations are literally going through a bottle neck. I try to call/text/e-mail/blog when I can, but by that time I've had 4 days of 10 billion things. 10 billion great things, yes. But 10 billion things affecting all of my senses at once and making me think of everything at once and I'd love to take everyone that I love and put them in front of me so that we could all experience everything together. Unfortunately I can't.

Anyway, I'm safe and things are moving along fine. I feel like I've gotten older in a short period of time, but I'm content.

El Instituto Universitario de Barlovento (the name is longer, but I forget)

In the heart of Higuerote lies a small university (I would include photos but it's nearly impossible to upload them with this internet). What would most likely be compared to a small, urban, low-budget American high school has been not only a source of education, motivation, and revitalization for the Afro-Venezuelan community, but also a safe place for its youth. Alejando (my new best friend) gave us a formal tour of the university a few days ago and explained to us the history of IUB, and by no means has it been an easy journey.

Venezuela already has a significant poverty rate, and along with that comes a limited access to education. The people of the Barlovento region have, for decades, raised money and fought for the resources for this University. It began small, yes, but it is now a larger Venezuelan project, educating more than 12,000 Afro-Venezuelan students, from the city of Higuerote and neighboring regions. Mision Sucre has become an extensive educational project founded by IUB, creating a network of local universities and community colleges, all headlined by IUB and using a common curriculum.

IUB’s educational programs have also grown substantially. Students are now able to study a wide variety of fields, including Nursing, Computer Science, Law, Medicine, Engineering, Tourism, English, and Education. Recently, IUB created a joint Masters program with the University of Havana in Cuba in which students travel to Havana to defend their dissertations, and usually after that point the students return to Higuerote to do what? Teach at IUB. Many of the teachers and administrators at IUB were once students.

At any given time, someone could walk past IUB and label it insignificant. But already I see a strength and diligence in it that I hardly see in the best of American universities. Sure, it’s not Harvard or Columbia or even UNC. But what it is, has been, and will continue to be is a sort of glue in this community. It has given the people a sense of pride and a sense of power, and as I watch the students, young and old, studying their hardest to learn English, to learn engineering, to learn medicine, I know somehow that I’ll see these people in the future changing the world. At times I feel like I take my opportunities and the availability of education in the US for granted, and seeing how a community literally built this school, and what it represents for them as a people, from the ground up….I know that I have no choice but to do the absolute best with what I’ve been able to enjoy with minimal struggle.

Although we could’ve been spending our 4 months in Caracas studying at a bigger, more heavily funded University, I’m grateful for IUB. I’m grateful for the ability to see outside of the fanciness and bureaucracy of an education, and see this instead.

Day 4

If I could dump out everything that I've seen in the past few days in a uniform fashion, I would. Desafortunadamente, no es posible. Internet access has (obviously) been scarce and I expect that it will be this way for the next 4 months, but whatever. It's not as important as I thought it would be. One thing I’m realizing is that so many things that I mentally place in the “necessary” category, aren’t so. How could I ever live amongst a community of people who don’t have many of the things that I don’t bat an eye over, and even make a face about a lack of hot water, internet access, or telephones? Sobreviviré, sin duda. I guess that’s a part of unlearning things about yourself and about your surroundings. Half of the time, it’s really just not that serious.

 But anyway, where am I?

 We left Caracas 2 days ago after spending 1 night in a small hotel minutes from the airport. I wish I could’ve stayed for a few more days and explored the capital. But I’ll be back. Immediately we began what seemed like a 5 hour bus ride through the mountains all the way to the Northern coast—to Barlovento region. I guess it’s necessary to talk about this ride, because my goodness, how beautiful yet unappealing at the same time. There’s nothing more breathtaking than the view of the mountains in Venezuela. What seemed like a never ending horizon of hills, dark clouds, and winding roads was also supplemented with waves upon waves of los barrios—the small communities of squatter houses. 

La ciudad Higuerote, my new home (feel free to google ‘Higuerote’ right about now).

 Higuerote is the small capital city (and perhaps the most commercial and urban of this region), composed of both cute little apartments and slums. As far as the beach is concerned, I’ve never been more grateful for it. This is my first time touching the Caribbean Sea, please God don’t let it be the last.

We had the opportunity to visit this paradise last night with a few new friends that we made while having dinner in Rio Chico, maybe 35 minutes from our apartments. We met some great locals students and I feel much more at ease with speaking Spanish. I guess all it takes is being pushed into a situation where you have no choice.

Also, I’m surprised at how much of an urge young people feel to learn English here. Even with 6 months to a year of English instruction, these kids are excellent. It’s kind of a slap in the face to the millions of American students who’ve been taking foreign languages since 8^th grade but haven’t mastered a second (or third language). The thirst for knowledge here is overwhelming. Speaking of which, I have to tell you about the University.

he llegado

Finallllllmenteeee he llegado. Ahora estoy in caracas en Hotel Catimar para una noche, y manana vamos a Higuerote.

I'm relieved. I feel a warmness and comfort here already that I hadn't expected whatsoever. The only way that I can describe it is to compare it to my time in Saudi Arabia: it's a feeling of being in a place that you could never recognize or identify with before, yet you walk into it feeling at home and completely in your element. I feel this way already, conversing with people in the airport, playing around with little kids, joking around with the hotel maid in the hallway...there's a warmness in all of it, and I appreciate it.

Although I arrived in Caracas at night, the city still felt very much alive to me. As soon as I stepped outside, I heard music, I saw people chatting and selling things on the street. The women are beautiful, with bodies that could only be sculpted by the most skilled artists, and Venezuelan men have already captured me with the attitude that could only be described as that quintessential machismo. ayyyyy venezuela, yo he llegado.

At night, the initial view of Caracas from the airport is deceiving. What may appear to be hills upon hills of stars is your first taste of los barrios de Venezuela, and they unfold for miles farther than I can imagine. The development that I see in Caracas is also displayed against a backdrop of urban poverty, with tall hotels, PDVSA signs, graffiti and stray cats. It's all beautiful, just as it is. 

Salto de Fe

Every big decision takes a leap of faith (for me, anyways). Perhaps it's because every act, every connection, every friendship is founded on an emotional and mental investment. Venezuela has been this fuzzy and distant idea in my mind that I talk about like something that hasn't been coming my way, but now that I'm less than 48 hours away, it's finally getting to me that this is way too real.

A part of me wishes that I could stay just for a few more days and......tie up loose ends? I feel like I have an abundance of unfinished business, things left unsaid and things left out of place. I'm leaving my best friend for 4 months and if there were any way to verbalize how wrong this feels, I'd express it. It's been nearly impossible to stuff 4 months of conversations, hugs, advice, and understanding into 5 days but I still feel like I should.

On the other hand, I feel the strongest urge to jump into this experience and leave things where they are despite every bit of confusion, frustration, and uncertainty that I'm feeling. I hate to say that I'm running away, but those shoes feel so good right about now so I'll go ahead and wear them. The truth is, this semester is right on time after a stressful school year and an even more overwhelming summer. I've lost friendships, strengthened others, and some continue to keep me in a state of disorientation and uncertainty. And the best thing I could ask for at this point is the chance to get away and stop thinking about everything and everyone that has held my attention for so long. Forget a leap, I'm nose-diving.

El Principio

Whether I immediately realize it or not, every chance that I have had to travel overseas has given me a new and unexpected outlook on life, myself, and my sense of identity. For much of my life, my ideas about culture, faith and religion, heritage, and identity have been challenged and reconfigured, most likely as a result of my being wrong. I grew up with a sense of awareness of my faith and identity as an American Muslim, but that sense of security was disputed immensely the moment I began my life in the Middle East, and yet again when I re-started my life as an American living in the United States 3 years ago.

We all walk this Earth, in whatever social circle, socioeconomic class, or community, thinking that we have ideas and opinions on life-and of course-we are always right. I've realized many times that the best way to humble yourself is to be wrong, and to recognize that perhaps your ideas and opinions on any given subject are lacking understanding, insight, and context. Over the years I've felt a growing desire to discuss and fully understand many aspects of the African diaspora and all that it entails, specifically outside of my own experience as an African American. I have much to say and feel about the American experience, yet I have very little insight into the experiences and outlooks of those who may share a common origin, but an entirely different modern day experience and sense of identity.

I've been blessed to have the opportunity to spend the next 4 months in northern Venezuela, in the middle of a significant Afro-Venezuelan population. While I have nothing to predict or expect at this point, I hope that I can look back on my preconceived notions of race, identity, and culture and realize that I was wrong. I hope that this endeavor will give me yet another opportunity to disillusion myself and come into a different and unexpected understanding. I consider this experience, among others, the act of disenchanting because only when you allow yourself the chance to exist outside of what you know and free yourself from illusion can you make room for reality.