Slumming It?
Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.
Where we are: Today we’re flying from Kenya to Zambia, to see Victoria Falls, which is the world’s largest (but apparently neither tallest nor widest—math is complicated) waterfall.
Slumming It?
We spent most of the past week—five days—on two-a-day game drives, watching animals in the Masai Mara. It was bucket-list level amazing. We had seen African animals before, but we’d only done a couple of game drives, and having someone who understood the landscape and the animals was a completely different experience. We left with all the feels.
One of the ‘excursion’ options at our lodge was a visit to a Masai village. We skipped it, because I didn’t want to miss a single minute of watching giraffes and zebras and cheetahs, but I think a lot of people feel compelled to do non-animal things. As far as I could tell, it was an opportunity stare at the living conditions of very poor people in rural Kenya, and buy souvenirs. We passed through the village on one of our game drives, and that was good enough for me. We waved at kids walking to school, and saw people heading into the fields and opening up shops and setting out their wares for the day. I neither needed nor wanted to enter a home, look around, and leave. That doesn’t feel right to me.
During our flight back to Nairobi, Lee suggested we go on a tour of Kibera, which is the largest slum in Africa. I firmly declined. I wouldn’t go on a tour of a housing project or a homeless encampment in the US. I’m not sure why it’s more acceptable in another country.
Lee and I inadvertently walked through a slum in Mumbai. We walked past houses perched on the edge of an open sewer in Bangladesh. I’ve been invited into the homes of people we’ve met, and have seen what grinding poverty looks like.
I really don’t like the idea of going on an organized tour to stare at people living their lives, whether they’re poor or not. It makes me uncomfortable. I understand that it’s meant to be about raising awareness and educating tourists about our shared humanity, and perhaps even about providing jobs, but it just feels voyeuristic to me.
Last week we sat in the back of a Land Cruiser and watched elephants napping and lions eating and baboons playing. Animals are not the same as humans, and I don’t want those lines to blur in my mind. Is there dignity or respect or shared humanity in a slum tour? I don’t know.
When we were in Ecuador, we met a woman who was traveling all over South America. She had no interest in animals or nature or landscapes or hiking or history or art. She wanted only to see indigenous tribes.
Is that a good thing? If you’ve ever gone on a slum tour, or an ‘indigenous village’ tour, what did you think? How did you feel about it? I have avoided them, and I realize I am passing judgment on an experience that I’ve never had. I’m open to being convinced.
Take care,
Lisa
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