Collectively, the camps in Dadaab are the largest refugee settlement in the world. Built to house 90,000 displaced people, they now hold upwards of 250,000, mainly from neighbouring Somalia. Camps which were supposed to provide temporary shelter for refugees before they could be resettled have instead become distressingly permanent, with many people living in limbo for years.

Goodwin builds a relationship with each student, meeting the families and friends they will have to leave behind as they move, alone, to various universities across Canada. There are wonderfully light moments, and the strength and dignity with which the students face their various challenges is incredibly inspiring. But this is not a happy story. The feelings of dislocation that come when trying to adapt to an alien culture are accompanied by the constant pressure to do well enough, quickly enough, to pull their families out of the camps.

Expectations are high partly because of the perception in the camps that everyone in Canada is “rolling in money” and that once they break through and make it here, they — and their families — are set. Only after arriving in Canada do they learn that this is not the case. It is here that the book offers a look at Canada through the eyes of some very intelligent newcomers. Some wonder why their new Canadian friends don’t seem to care very much about Canadian politics. Others wonder why, in a country so much richer than the ones they were born in, homelessness and poverty are allowed to persist.

The students also struggle with questions of identity, with each having to decide how strongly to hold to lifelong religious and cultural beliefs. Often there is an eagerness to try new things, accompanied by a deep reluctance to leave behind customs which remind them of home. Their views on the interaction between women and men in Canadian society are varied, as are their recollections of gender relations in the camps. More than one of the male students has had the word “feminist” used against him as a severe accusation, and more than one of the female students believes the hijab is a central part of her wardrobe.

As a journalist, Goodwin gains the trust of the students and reports their experiences and observations in their own words. As a mother with a daughter the same age as the students she is writing about, she becomes part of the story herself. For most of them, she is the only outsider who has seen them both as they used to be, young leaders in Dadaab, and as they are now, young leaders in Canada.

A sunset in Elongatuas, Masai Mara, Kenya (2009). Photo by Siena Anstis.

[Editor’s Note: Siena Anstis, who has served as our Africa correspondent on the blog over the past few months, is moving on to new projects. She’ll continue to contribute to the blog, but wanted to pass on some of the things she’s learned during her time working and reporting in Uganda, Kenya, and elsewhere for other young Western journalists looking to work abroad.]

I will be packing my bags next week and leaving Nairobi after an 8-month fellowship with the Aga Khan Foundation (East Africa) and freelance work under the Journalism & Development Scholarship funded by the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA). Of course, the idea of leaving and juggling with new choices is both exhausting and exhilarating.

On that note, I know I am privileged to have traveled this much over the past few years (with a lot more to come). I regularly think back on how important the guidance and opportunities I received have been (parents are probably the biggest asset in this department). So, if you are interested in entering international development, I figured I would share a few other tips, after the jump:

Develop a specialty: Whether I want to work in journalism or not, having the skills and training of a journalist is a big asset. Getting into international development is no walk in the park – entry level positions often ask for 5 or more years of experience. However, if you have something that makes you versatile – in my case, photography, design and writing – you might make the cut.

Studying International Development: You do NOT need to study International Development to enter the field. An undergraduate degree (Social Sciences or Humanities) in any discipline is what you make of it and is equally as relevant. Also, grades matter. You will need to do a Master’s at some point to climb the ladder and high grades are key.

Study both applied and research: Instead, combine your undergraduate. For example, do a major in a research degree and another major in an applied degree. You might not have time to do an Honors in the research section, but you will have a lot more skills when you graduate. Plus, no Honors will not stop you from getting into Canadian or UK graduate schools (I can guarantee you this). Applied degrees can be anything from journalism to graphic design and marketing. All applied skills are valuable when you start an internship or a new job in international development. The applied degree will always add that extra edge to your applications – and be your emergency money-maker down the line.

Apply your “applied skills” now: I started freelancing the moment I entered journalism school. A lot of it was unpaid work with minimal exposure, but it taught me the difficult ropes of freelancing. I also wrote regularly for the school newspaper and did a stint as a news editor. I continue to do a mix of free and paid work, using all of it as an opportunity to market myself online. This also applies to other degree. For example, if you are a graphic design and political science major (maybe a strange – but interesting – mix), try volunteering/working for some local NGOs.

Start early. Get “involved” now: Being involved can mean anything from attending lectures and seminars you would not usually bother with to helping at the soup kitchen and assisting with the Amnesty Chapter at your university. I would suggest a mix of the obscure and the obvious. Having UN-related organizations on your CV is fantastic, but remember that you will probably get more experience working with that small local organization that really needs extra hands. Getting involved takes some determination: many organizations are too disorganized or busy to streamline volunteers. Harass them persistently.

Travel with purpose: Wherever you travel, analyze the conditions around you. From racism in Denmark to tourism in Zanzibar, there is a story in every surrounding. Recognize these stories, write a blog, use social media to disseminate your stories (namely Twitter). Show that you are engaged in your environment. If anything, this will help you discover more about yourself and the world around you.

Internships: There is a point where you get to say “no more work for free.” However, the time between now and then is getting longer and longer, particularly with the job market in disarray. Some people spend several years after university working for next to nothing or free and getting their foot in the door. So, beat them to it. Do internships abroad every summer. Use some of your student loans and savings. Don’t wait until you’ve graduated. For example, I spent the the second and third summers of university working in Uganda. I then did an exchange for 6 months to Europe and threw in some freelancing in Kosovo. I started a non-profit (and basically surrendered myself to no-income for a year). And now I’m finishing a costs-covered (but no profit) 8-month fellowship. Yes, I had to take out some extra bank loans, but it’s worth it.

Look outside the box: Instead of applying for those mainstream and hard to get internships that everyone applies to, contact an organization you would like to work for directly. Say you are moving to where they are based and want to volunteer for free for several months. Getting an internship is not hard, making the most of it is. And sometimes these internships change you whole perspective. For example, I started working for Women of Uganda Network because a friend heard the organization occasionally took foreign interns and referred me. WOUGNET introduced me to a whole other area in development, information and communication for development (ICT4D) in broad terms, which is now my thesis focus and has helped me get accepted to top schools in the UK.

Prepare for your internship: Like I said, making the most of an internship is hard. Many are office-based and involve little field-work. You’ll find yourself editing documents and writing tired Facebook messages. Unless, of course, you bring some ideas of your own. Spend the first few weeks recognizing gaps in the organization and, once people are comfortable with you, suggest a particular project you would like to work on or pitch your own idea. When I was working with the Women of Uganda Network, in Kampala, Uganda, the first few weeks were slow – until I stumbled across their citizen journalism initiative and asked to design and facilitate a workshop for local non-governmental organizations.

Award/Internships: There are a few good organization and awards you should be applying to while in university or after graduation. This applies primarily to Canadians and is based on some of my previous work experience. There are dozens more – if you know them, post in the comments section!

The Aga Khan Foundation Fellowship (8 months, costs covered): This fellowship has funded my current position. There are position all around the world, from Tajikistan to the white beaches of Zanzibar. Applications are generally due in December. They take university graduates with a preference for Masters students (however, there were plenty non-Masters in my cohort).

Insight Collaborative (1-year, costs covered): This fellowship is for people with a bit more experience (several international internships under their belt – whether summer or longer-term).  Training is primarily in conflict resolution, with the opportunity to organize internship placements anywhere in the world.

Forces Avenir: For students studying in Quebec, this competition is a fantastic way to gain more exposure for yourself or your project.

Concordia Volunteer Abroad Program (summer, unpaid): If you are at Concordia University, this is a great way to get your first field experience. It is the most basic introduction to international development you can get while being cared for.

McGill Internship Program (summer, bursaries available): If you are at McGill, you can look into this highly competitive program. A friend of mine used to work in their offices, feel free to contact me for more details.

CIDA Internships (5-6 months, costs covered): These internships are good for people on their first or second work experience abroad. They are getting increasingly competitive, I presume, as the job market stalls.

Women of Kireka (rolling, unpaid): A bit of self-promotion, but the organization I started with Project Diaspora in Kampala, Uganda, is looking for interns. You can read more about the positions here.

Dr. Jane Philpott, founder of the Give a Day to World AIDS campaign. Photo by Molly Crealock.

One day’s salary might not mean much to most of us, but to Dr. Jane Philpott, founder of the Give a Day to World AIDS campaign, it might be just enough to save a life.

In 2004, the Markham, Ont.-based family physician gave a presentation to her colleagues about the AIDS epidemic. Knowing that she couldn’t just talk about the plight of AIDS in Africa without giving the doctors some advice on how they could help, she suggested that those in attendance donate one day’s income to the Stephen Lewis Foundation — a Canadian organization fighting AIDS in Africa at the ground level — in honour of December 1, the annual World AIDS Day. This simple idea led to 50 doctors donating their daily salaries, an act that raised $33,000.

Since then, the 47 year-old mother of four has seen her initiative grow to include 12 hospitals, 15 law firms and dozens of other businesses, church groups and individuals, resulting in $700,000 in donations last year. This year, she’s aiming to raise $1 million for the Stephen Lewis Foundation.

Those funds will go towards providing drugs for Africans infected with HIV/AIDS, treatment that most people in Ethiopia and Niger could never afford. Residents of these countries make on average US$180 and US$260 per person per year respectively, while anti-retroviral drugs, the preferred treatment for HIV/AIDS, cost at least $2,738 US per person per year — a figure that just one day’s pay from a few Canadian professionals can easily cover.

Philpott witnessed the initial outbreak of AIDS in Africa while working there in the ‘80s. She first lived in Kenya and then after a brief return to Canada to start a family, in Niger, where she worked closely with local families whose lives were affected by HIV/AIDS and other tropical diseases.

What bonded her to those families, however, was losing her three-year-old daughter to a blood infection. While reflecting on that tragedy, Philpott points out she was in a country where 25 to 30 percent of children die before their fifth birthday. “It gave me more of a passion to say this is unjust, that the kind of healthcare expectations that those women have for their children are not the same as what mothers here expect,” she says. “I don’t think you can go back to practicing medicine in Canada and ignore those realitiesÑat least I couldn’t.”

It’s that passion for global health equality that drives Philpott and the Give a Day campaign. Although they don’t formally lobby the government to increase foreign aid, Philpott says the Give a Day campaign is a means of mobilization and a voice for the people. “How do we make ourselves heard? Money talks. How we use our money speaks volumes about what matters most to us.” She feels the Canadian government needs to rethink its foreign aid priorities when it comes to the AIDS epidemic. “We’ve set an easily attainable target of 0.7 percent of GDP as a goal and we’re not even halfway there.”

Despite claims from the Harper government that it would increase foreign aid for Africa, a UNAIDS report released in July 2008 shows Canada’s contributions in 2007 to AIDS relief was $103.7 million, whereas the Netherlands gave $380.5 million and the United Kingdom donated $984.9 million. In addition, the Canada Fund for Africa, created in 2005 by the Canadian International Development Agency, was no longer operational as of March 31, 2008.

Still, Dr. Philpott isn’t giving up. “I feel a huge challenge in terms of the urgency,” she says, “but we could beat this thing. We could really be a big part of seeing the end of AIDS in the world.”

Poster for Pamoja's new dance work, Koncrete City.

There’s a scene in the Kenyan dance company Pamoja‘s new ballet, Konkrete City, where all I could feel was the hectic beat of downtown Nairobi, or Vancouver, or Toronto. The dancers—most of them handicapped—depicted the Central Business District, Kenya’s core of business towers and banks, during the rainy season.

Walking, running and jumping; swinging arms, dreaded hair, legs and umbrellas, they moved to the unnerving beat of techno. The audience at the dusty National Theater of Kenya was so entranced that even the children in the front row, who are usually frightened by this type of music, could not tear their eyes away from the unbelievable shapes of the dancers.

Pamoja means “togetherness” in kiSwahili. Exemplifying that concept, the dancers use each others’ bodies to grace the stage— sometimes lasciviously. During one scene, a man pedals a Kenya-style wheelchair across the stage, while two other men, sitting behind him, roll on each others’ bodies, using necks, elbows and legs as support.

Dismas Otieno, one of the members of Nairobi's Pamoja dance company. Photo by Siena Anstis.

Dismas Otieno, 24, is a long-time dancer with Pamoja. He lost his leg at the age of four when he fell off his bike and into the lethal path of a “flying coffin,” a popular nickname for the big East African buses that roar past you with little regard for human life.

His parents, aware of the new difficulties their son would face, ensured that Otieno completed both primary and secondary schools at institutions for the handicapped. Eventually, as his interest in sports grew during his school years, he moved to Nairobi to pursue this passion.

Overcoming the challenges of living as a physically impaired person in a place like Kenya, notoriously unfriendly to the disabled, Otieno is a national swimming champion and is on the national swimming and basketball teams. He also dances full-time with Pamoja. “I don’t see myself walking on crutches,” he tells me, “I consumed and accepted the situation when I was young.” When dancing, he sometimes spends over two hours on his one leg without a break.

While Dismas is well-adjusted to his situation, he admits that most Kenyans aren’t. “The government sees physically challenged people as a problem.”

In a city like Nairobi, being handicapped is not easy. There is limited wheelchair access in all buildings, elevators are often broken, buses and matatus (the popular van-type of transportation) rarely stop for people in wheelchairs. Being handicapped in Nairobi means relying on the goodness of people with their own problems who are mostly looking out for themselves.

In an attempt to change this attitude, Pamoja has made itself a popular local dance group. Performing at big cultural centers like the Alliance Francaise, as well as in remote communities, where there is even less support structures for the disabled, Pamoja, through its contemporary dance work, helps to convince individuals that there is power and possibility within even the most physically challenged body.

The Kenya Working Group, operating under the University of Toronto, supports people with disabilities in Kenya. You can consult their website here.

Some of these Canadians are not like the others. Left to right: Brenda Martin, James Loney, Omar Khadr, Maher Arar, Suaad Hagi Mohamud.

In November 2005, I travelled to Iraq in violation of a Foreign Affairs travel advisory. It was my third trip. Four members of an international delegation, including myself, were kidnapped and held by Iraqi insurgents for four months. One member of our group, an American named Tom Fox, was killed two weeks before we were released.

We knew the risks. The organization I belong to, Christian Peacemaker Teams, routinely sends people into dangerous no-go zones. It’s what we do: train international teams in the disciplines of non-violent, direct action to work with grassroots communities affected by violence.

Our work in Iraq included drawing attention to and documenting the arbitrary detention and torture of Iraqis, and supporting and training a Muslim Peacemaker Team. In the event of a kidnapping, CPT policy is very clear: no ransom will be paid and we will not accept or resort to using any kind of physical force to save our lives.

Thus, I expected nothing of the Canadian government when we were kidnapped. If we were released it would be through the non-violent efforts of CPT. If we were tortured or killed it would be our sharing in the terrible cost soldiers are routinely asked to pay in the course of serving their country.

I was astonished, then, to discover upon our release—a military rescue led by British special forces—that a team sent to Baghdad by the federal government had been working around the clock to secure our release, and Foreign Affairs and the RCMP had been in constant communication with my partner and family. The Canadian Forces sent a Hercules aircraft to fly me and my colleague Harmeet Singh Sooden out of Baghdad. Prime Minister Stephen Harper called to wish us well.

I couldn’t believe it. They came for me! Me, of all Canadians—an anarchist, a conscientious objector who had deliberately earned below the taxable income and not filed an income tax return for 10 years to avoid filling the military’s coffers. A government I would never vote for and completely disagreed with reached beyond politics to claim me.

Brenda Martin is another Canadian who knows what it’s like to be claimed. She was arrested in Mexico in 2006 and charged with participating in laundering and criminal conspiracy related to an online investment scam. She was found guilty on April 22, 2008, and sentenced to five years in jail. The Canadian government paid her $3,700 fine and flew her home in a chartered plane on May 1, at a cost of $82,727.

I am glad Brenda Martin was eventually helped by the federal government, just as I’m eternally grateful for the assistance provided to me and my family. But there’s a long list of Canadians in trouble abroad whom the Canadian government has either abandoned, ignored, or simply not seen.

There’s Omar Khadr, now 23, detained and tortured in Guantanamo from the age of 15, interrogated by CSIS, the only Western citizen who has not been repatriated. The government is appealing a court order requiring him to be brought home. There’s Abousfian Abdelrazik, detained and tortured by Sudan at Canada’s request, also interrogated by CSIS, and subjected to a six-year exile until a court order forced the government to let him come home. There’s Suaad Hagi Mohamud, stranded in Kenya for three months after immigration offi cials rejected her Canadian passport because her lips were “too thick.”

There’s Abdihakim Mohamed, a 25-year-old man with autism languishing in Kenya for the past three years because the government says he doesn’t match his passport photo. There’s Sacha Bond, a 24-year-old man with bipolar disorder, convicted of attempted murder in the United States for brandishing a weapon while off his meds and drunk. He was 19 at the time of the incident and no one was injured. And then, of course, there’s Maher Arar, Abdullah Almalki, Ahmed Abou El Maati and Muayyed Nureddin, all falsely labelled by CSIS and subsequently detained, interrogated, and tortured in Syria (in one case Egypt), with Canada supplying the questions.

They are part of an even longer list of Canadians in need of assistance. Who gets help and who doesn’t is a matter of “Crown prerogative.” That’s a fancy way of saying if the government likes you, if they see you as an upstanding citizen or a worthy innocent, they’ll go to bat for you. But if you have thick lips or dark skin, if you have a funny last name or you’re mentally ill, if you were born in a country with a bad reputation or if you yourself have a bad reputation, sorry, you’re out of luck. Some Canadian citizens count, it seems, and some don’t. Brenda and I must be among those who count.

My experience as a hostage has profoundly changed my thinking about the nature of government and citizenship. Governments matter immensely. What they do and don’t do, who they see or choose not to see, is of the greatest consequence—literally a matter of life and death. Governments at their best are powerful and essential vehicles of social solidarity. They exist to advance the common good, safeguard the environment, care for the sick and the elderly, nurture and educate the young—in sum, to serve and protect their citizens.

A citizen is a citizen, by definition an equal, subject of an inviolable covenant, entitled to the protection of the government. The integrity of citizenship is tested by its universality, and the test of its universality is in how well the least and most marginalized among us are protected.

It’s time that we reclaimed citizenship from the back rooms of Crown prerogative with legislation that obliges the government to offer consular assistance to every Canadian in trouble abroad.

The government needs be proactive and vigorously safeguard the rights of every Canadian, whoever and wherever they are. The lives of Khadr, Bond, Mohamed, and many more depend on it.

And, given that 4 million Canadians travel abroad each year, your life could well depend on it too.

Issue #1 of Kwani?, the journal of contemporary African literature.

Several of my previous blog posts have mentioned Kwani?, the Nairobi literary journal/publishing network dedicated to building contemporary African literature. My interest in the publication was first aroused by the contrasting literary scenes in Uganda and Kenya. While FEMRITE, based in Kampala, Uganda, is a strong local writers’ organization, I never found a literary magazine like Kwani? in Eastern Africa, which offered everything the local and foreign reader could want: fiction, non-fiction, poetry, illustrations—all dealing with the world that is Kenya from a hundred different perspectives.

So, when I was first introduced to Kwani?, I could not let go. Since then, I’ve learned a lot about the role of literature in the development of a national psyche, particularly in post-conflict situations. Words have a way of immortalizing moments that are otherwise easily swept under the rug forever. In this sense, we are indebted to the artists that immortalize these events and ensure their recognition in the long-term, whether political, economic or social. As Kahora says, “writers are society’s conscience.”

In Kenya, this has been particularly important. The post-election crisis could have become just that: another post-election crisis. Previous elections have been bloody. Previous elections have been rigged. Previous elections were built on empty promises and on bought votes. But through literature like Kwani?, perhaps there is an acute awareness among the public that this is not just another post-election crisis. This was the final straw.

The last two issues of Kwani? focused on the post-election crisis, making an indelible impression on readers. The goal was to record in pictures, cartoons, poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction what happened in the first 100 days of 2008. As Kahora says, “One of the big problems we’ve always had is a problem in recording momentous events in this country which leads to a widespread amnesia; such a record, makes sure there is no excuse, at least from a literary community’s viewpoint, for the kind of behaviour [during the post-election crisis].”

Consequently, Kwani? also wants to focus on the younger generation of Kenyans and their aspirations for the country as ‘leaders of tomorrow.’ Kahora says that the next issue of Kwani? will focus on “youth expressions—as a way of going deeper into the 46-year-old malaise [Kenya] is suffering…re-evaluating who we are and what directions we are heading in.” Closer to the 2012 elections, Kahora says Kwani? will use the magazine “as [a] way of making people remember.”

Among youth, the coming generation of Kenyan leaders and doers, Kahora says that Kwani? represents “a younger un-texted space that falls outside of official narratives, that can be written into being.” Kenya is a country saturated with stale political narratives that never seem to change, published day to day in the big local newspaper, The Daily Nation. Kwani?, though perhaps only drop in the bucket in the long-run, offers youth, and other Kenyans, a means of looking beyond the mainstream and writing out a new idea of Kenya. Perhaps, through this process, some of these aspirations will become reality.

Google Map's incomplete data for Kibera, among the world's largest slums. An open source mapping project aims to provide a clearer picture.

Kibera, one of the world’s biggest slums, is a “glaring omission” on Google Maps, says Erica Hagen, member of the Map Kibera team. Indeed, Kibera remains a blank spot in relatively well-mapped and densely populated Nairobi, the economic hub of East Africa.

When I first heard of this project, my first thought was of the potential harm that mapping this area could do. Would the government highjack the data, mapping and labeling households by ethnicity? Of course, all technology has pitfalls. Remember the use of cell phones during the Kenyan election crisis to spread hate? It would serve Map Kibera well to monitor how the government and local political groups use this new information and for what means.

Regardless, mapping Kibera does have some expected benefits. As Hagen points out, community groups are willing to participate because they think having a geographical marker might make service claims to the government easier. There would be a visual representation of where schools, clinics and water delivery services, for example, are missing.

In a community saturated with development organizations, mapping might also better situate who is working where and potentially help avoid overlaps between groups. For Westerners, it is a practical matter of being able to navigate the complex community they do not belong to, but so desperately want to volunteer in.

Google Maps brings us visual representations of the nooks and crannies of the world we would probably never have time or money to visit. This points to another advantage of mapping Kibera. Hagen is working with a group of youth who produce short clips of their community and upload to YouTube. By linking these clips to different areas of Kibera on a map there is the potential to better educate and situate Kibera for the aid-giving Westerners who see the region as in need of saving.

Kibera has been mapped before, says Hagen, who met with volunteers who had mapped the whole district for another non-governmental organization. However, they never saw the results. This time, Map Kibera wants to do things differently. Hosting the map on Open Street Map (an open-source software which the public can edit) allows others to contribute to the mapping of Kibera.

Map Kibera has also hired twelve local youth, most having just finished their high school degrees, to walk through the community with GPS devices and identify the streets, alleys, clinics, schools and so on in the area. She hopes that after this training, they will be able to spread the word (both through printed maps and the off-chance of Internet access) and ensure community engagement. “Sustainability is always difficult,” says Hagen, but she assures me that Map Kibera is working with local organizations like Ushahidi.

Stay updated for further initiatives after the initial mapping to be completed in three weeks on their website.

Participants in the "Africa Gathering" conference in London, October 27, 2009. CC-licensed photo via Flickr by chiefmoamba.

In the interest of full disclosure, I currently work with Project Diaspora and am getting hitched to one of the founders next year in Uganda (you might be invited). However, that said, I think myself (mostly) capable of distinguishing between these personal associations and PD’s mandate.

When I first joined PD in 2008, I was vaguely interested in their work. I thought the core idea of the project was different from the mainstream, and therefore merited some attention.

However, when TMS Ruge spoke at Africa Gathering a few weeks ago in London, the reason for initiatives like PD truly became tangible.

While working with the Aga Khan Foundation has been interesting, I often feel that my work is superfluous and could be done much better by someone with a cultural familiarity and connection to East Africa.

I also feel that we foreigners continue the colonialist vibe first exported by the British to Kenya. And, as my father, a former diplomat, points out, the days of colonialism have neatly blended into the proxy Cold Wars fought in African countries like the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Now, international development and aid have become, in large part, a cover for forcing poor and unstable countries into adapting the norms and ideals of other nations so that the West can export their products and ensure their own long-term financial health.

Despite these very real moral obstacles, international development — in the sense of cross-cultural integration, stemming poverty and establishing global economic stability (but not necessarily growth) — remains an important component of African advancement. In a sense, the funds and quality of work necessary to jump-start countries is often still found in the West. Therefore, despite all the subversion that aid delivers, it is necessary to build a connection between these two regions, the minority and majority worlds.

But, how about a different connection? PD seems to offer a unique solution to these two difficulties: development should be home grown with the necessary cultural, linguistic and religious nuances to be successful. At the same time, Western resources are often necessary to start-up projects (even PD, strictly averse to aid, understands this).

PD envisions harnessing the knowledge and financial resources (including $40 billion annually in remittances) of the African Diaspora, mostly living in the West, in the interest of social and economic development in Africa.

This means encouraging members of the African Diaspora to contribute to the advancement of their countries; either by coming back and directly contributing their skills; or by acting as advisors to government, non-governmental organizations and the private sector. PD hopes, in a sense, to reverse the “brain-drain” that has been overwhelmingly crippling the African continent.

Instead of imported World Bank employees at $100,000+ tax free per year, such international organizations can focus and draw upon an influential African Diaspora working in the West and start re-building these broken links.

In the long-run, this could bolster the faltering middle class of countries like Uganda and allow a stronger political voice among the people. By ensuring a cultural continuity in development, one also has the opportunity to lift people out of “victimhood” and bring the role-models home.

However, this is only a first step. The idea of re-branding Africa must be included. In practice, this concept would allow for the awakening of a new market built on the talent of Africans, Diaspora and non-Diaspora. As explained in TMS’ speech, customer service is key to the development of countries like Uganda. I don’t mean in the traditional sense — even though Teddy refers to it — as exporting computer troubleshooting labor from the US to Uganda.

Instead, I think he (and many other Ugandans/Africans) mean that businesses in places like Uganda need to step up to the plate and produce the products and service currently delivered both in the West and new economic superpowers like China and India. Simultaneously, we need to use the individuals behind these businesses as proof that African countries are not defined simply by corruption, instability, poverty and war. This involves both bringing these individuals to international light and helping the West understand that there is an investment to be made, while ensuring that African countries deliver on the work that is desired.

Lastly, while globalization has its merits, I think Africa can do it differently — and better. With all the “big” lessons being learned by countries like China (pollution) and the US (dependency on oil), African countries have the opportunity to posit a ‘healthier’ form of economic and social development.

The Greenhouse Preschool in the Kibera slum, Nairobi, Kenya. The school aims to improve the quality of life for disabled children in the neighbourhood. Photo courtesy Deaf Aid

Patrick teaches at the Greenhouse Pre-School in Kibera. Tucked into a sunny courtyard, the school is not typically representative of Kibera, the largest slum in the world and often used to represent Kenya’s “darker” side.

The 25 students Patrick teaches are deaf. While they might be silenced to the busy noise of the surrounding city, as I enter the school grounds, one can immediately tell their determination and curiosity through a flurry of questions articulated in sign language.

The school, founded by Deaf Aid, a Norwegian-funded non-governmental organization working with deaf children in the country, was opened in 2006. What appears to be the only institution like this in the region, Greenhouse takes in deaf children of all ages and backgrounds and help them work through all standard kindergarten material, including English, kiSwahili, math and sign language.

In Kenya, special needs children are often seen as ‘bad omens.’ Children are sometimes left locked up their houses, ostracized from the world around them. A 2007 report claims that approximately three million people with disabilities, which includes deaf individuals, in Kenya are also having their rights violated through limited access to employment, wage inequity, sexual harassment and theft.

Shiro Muiruri, who works in early childhood education/development, tells the story of one little girl who was locked in her house day after day as her parents left for work. The neighbor would come over and rape the child. The girl, unable to communicate with her parents, was left in this desperate situation for years. Eventually, she was introduced to Deaf Aid. She has now learned sign language and can express what she went through.

The school focuses on early childhood education. This type of “pre-school” education we might take for granted in Canada is key to the proper development of the child and his or hers success in primary school. Up until now, there existed few options for parents who wanted to prepare their deaf children for future education, particularly for families living in poor areas like Kibera. The Greenhouse program, which hopes to provide primary and secondary schooling in another region, Kisii, is filling this gap.

Deaf Aid pays for most of the costs of the 300 children under its care. A portion of these children, the 25 at Greenhouse, pay nothing at all and are given pre-school training while the others are sponsored in primary and secondary schools, both integrated and for deaf children only, around the country. These “integrated” schools are generally government owned and operate alongside “mainstream” education by providing special needs students with extra attention while ensuring they remain a part of the regular system.

In order to reach out to the parents of deaf children, and ensure that the mentality of deaf children as “useless” is eradicated, Deaf Aid also teaches parents sign language every Saturday afternoon. As many of these parents come from very poor backgrounds, Deaf Aid also offers lunch money and bus fare to the Greenhouse parents – primarily from the Kibera, Kawangware and Mukuru slums – to learn new “life skills” such as tailoring, hairdressing and knitting. During the holidays, the school hosts open classes which bring together deaf children and their hearing siblings. By November, Deaf Aid also hope to host a mobile “hearing clinic” to target Kibera and rural areas outside Nairobi. This will help ensure that diseases causing deafness are caught early and that deaf children are given the necessary treatment.

Despite these projects, the situation for specials needs children in general in Kenya continues to look bleak. According to the Ministry of Education Science and Technology in Kenya, in 2004 there were 750,000 special needs children at primary school going age with only 26,000 enrolled. The government has reaffirmed its objective to help integrate special needs education and OVCs into the mainstream educational system through its “Education for All” initiative launched in 2003. However, these children continue to remain marginalized.

There are many barriers to integrating special needs education. One notable challenge is cost. An article from IPS News highlights that: “The cost of educating a child in a private institution that caters for special needs ranges from about 192 to 641 dollars per term – a considerable expense in a country where, according to the United Nations Human Development Report for 2003, about 23 percent of people live on less than a dollar a day.” As stated in a report for the Commonwealth Education Fund, “low enrolment [of special needs children] has been caused by high costs of providing adequately trained teachers and other support personnel, specialized equipment and instructional materials.”

The Greenhouse pre-school model, as well as its expansion to primary and secondary school classes, offers both good and bad. While the cost of enrolling children in the school is high, Deaf Aid promises to cover most of the children’s costs. However, it also makes for a potentially unsustainable model that is not fully government-supported and therefore more difficult to mainstream in the long run. Second of all, while schools like Greenhouse offer targeted, high quality education to deaf children – and in the long run ensure that their disability turns into an ability – they also separate these children from the “mainstream,” which could reinforce existing stereotypes.

Yet, Patrick’s story — of growing up deaf in Kenya and of now being married with children — is admittedly rare, but perhaps will increase as Deaf Aid expands its services from a pre-school to a secondary: The latter is planned to open soon in Isinya in Rift Valley Province.

Delegates at the Unesco Youth Forum in Paris are articulating a completely new worldview. Photo by Siena Anstis.

Over the past four years I have had the great fortune of being able to live and travel in different places around the world. As I made it my job to spend time talking with youth from these different countries—primarily Uganda, Kenya, Canada, Denmark and Kosovo—I quickly discovered that we have one common and highly relevant role: together, we are rendering borders less relevant in the traditional sense.

Borders in the nationalistic, political, religious and economic dimensions of today’s world are artificially dictated by individuals who profit from these exacerbated differences. The 2008 post-election crisis in Kenya is a perfect example: both President Mwai Kibaki and Prime Minster Raila Odinga were powerful leaders exploiting ethnic differences as a means of uniting votes and remaining in power. Instead of focusing on the structural problems of poverty and land distribution, they pulled out a more tangible separation—that of ethnicity—and refused to let go.

But today’s youth bring a different perspective. Already a tangible reality in our lives, we are willing these borders into irrelevance.

As the UNESCO Constitution states: “Since wars begin in the minds of men, it is in the minds of men that the defenses must be constructed.” Youth around the world bring a new moral flexibility that promotes cooperation between previously sworn enemies.

For example, Behar Xharra, a young Kosovar, feels equally comfortable working with Serbian youths as with his own Albanian brethren and he helps ensure that a cross-border dialogue is maintained between peers, as a means of stabilizing the unsteady political climate that Kosovo was born into. Youth in the Obunga Slum in Kisumu, a town in Kenya’s Western Province, call for the celebration of cultural and ethnic diversity in their country, as well as the end of ethnic stereotypes that has divided their country.

While governments often exploit ethnic and religious differences, such as former President George Bush’s stereotyping of Islamic culture as an “axis of evil”, a strong and growing contingent of youth actively transcend these imposed borders. In Montreal, young Israelis stand hand in hand with Palestinians hoping for the liberation from incessant conflict; French Canadians mingle easily with Anglophones even while they continue to support the once-violent separatist movement.

The desire of youth to continue building this global nation—through the use of direct dialogue and increasingly useful social networking tools like Facebook and Twitter—is a powerful movement that will not be broken by rigid governments or an economic crisis. Indeed, many young people have decided to turn these obstacles into an opportunity to further solidify this global perspective despite great adversity. Through global alliances, “le capitalisme casino” is rendered inadequate and unsustainable. Instead of advocating another extreme ideology, such as Communism, youth are developing a method of sustaining humanity which relies on a global understanding. These strong alliances will sustain the pressures of differences and help ensure that people resort to violence less and less frequently.

The UNESCO Youth Forum is a great opportunity for this perspective to continue flourishing. In just one room, there are representatives of 109 countries. Such a meeting of minds, whether or not our leaders pay any attention to the recommendations of youth during the upcoming 35th UNESCO General Conference, will resonate across the world. The baggage of the Cold War, anti-Islamic hate, and extreme Zionism is slowly eroding and being replaced by new values of a generation that celebrates diversity, which brings new alternatives to the globe’s problems.

While I do not want to paint an overly idyllic picture, there is something brewing beneath the surface which offers youth a vision of a global world where differences are to be appreciated, not manipulated. In the long-run (for there is no “quick fix” to the world’s current management) humanity might learn from its mistakes.

[October 2, 2009, 12:42 pm: This article originally displayed the incorrect author; it’s now been corrected.]