Asante sana, 10 million times over

“Change will not come if we wait for some other person, or if we wait for some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.” President Obama

Richard, the JRS driver said, “Staci, since our first meeting, I wondered if you were the person that I deposited the $10 for a research permit?” I said excitedly, “Yes and do you realize what a vital role you played in my life?” As the dust-filled gravel road turned into a paved road, Richard and I had the most intriguing conversation about the small acts of kindness we’ve done in our lives that we didn’t know until later changed a person life’s trajectory.

In order to do research in Kenya, you need a research permit from NACOSTI. This research permit is an online form that you upload your proposal and pay a $400 fee (+international $45 banking fee). Pretty easy, eh? One cannot do any kind of research without this permit. So, I uploaded everything that was needed and paid the fee in September 2016. In October, I was looking through my banking details and realized that the funds I sent out to NACOSTI was refunded back to me. The bank in Kenya had taken a cut out the refund and I was left with $365. I immediately contacted my bank, the intermediary bank, NACOSTI’s bank and NACOSTI. They said that that NACOSTI’s intermediary banking details were wrong on their website and I would have to resend the funds. So, I sent the funds with their correct banking details and paid the $400 (+international $45 banking fee) again. I waited. I finally followed up with them in late November. They said that they had received my funds, however it was shorted $10. I am unsure how it was shorted $10 but now they wanted me to pay that in full in order for them to issue me a permit. As I scrambled to work with my bank to see if this was even possible, I was told that it was not possible and even if it was possible, I would be still charged the same international banking fee of $45.

I attempted to go through a different channel, by way of a friend of a friend of another friend in the office of NACOSTI to see if they would be able to waive the shorted fee until I landed in Kenya. Instead the friend requested my friend to pay $50 more in order for the permit to be cleared. When I heard about this, I had such a visceral reaction and that led me into an ethical dilemma. In all my travels, over 15 countries, I have never known to pay a bribe, nor did I want to start my research with a bribe. And yet, I couldn’t go without the permit.

I thought to myself, I am not going. So, I started to write an email to my Kenyan partners. This email brought on an old memory back. When I was 12 or so, I was held by an older boy (not my brothers) under water. As I pushed, my way up to get air, he would push me further down. When I gave in and stopped pushing, the boy lifted me out of the water and laughed at me. I am sure it was seconds but it felt like hours. Thus the memory developed into a reoccurring nightmare. I mentioned this because this is what I felt when I wrote an email to my partners. I felt that sinking feeling and sent a letter in despair to JRS and Kenyatta University (KU) partners to let them know my situation and that I am unable to follow through on my commitment. Hours later, I received an email from the JRS Country Director and she said, “Staci, we can help you.” The next week, Richard deposited $10 in the NACOSTI’s bank and 3 days later the permit was issued. 11 days later my research visa for my passport was granted (we know how that fiasco resulted in) and 9 days later, I boarded a plane to Nairobi, Kenya.

My 4-month struggle is trivial for all intents and purposes. However, what is not trivial is the cost of leaving one’s homeland because you are fleeing your country. I can only imagine it is like being pushed down under water (literally and figuratively) until you break again, again, and again. It is not that refugees choose to leave, it is that they must. And when they are resettled at times, it becomes even more difficult.

Just to note: When a refugee goes to a host country for resettlement (like the US), he or she, takes out an International Organization for Migration (IOM) interest-free travel loan. The loan pays for their travel and resettlement to their host country. This loan ranges from US1000 to 10,000 depending on a number of factors. The refugee has 42 months to repay the loan. Debt repayment must begin within six months of their arrival in the host country. This information is shared to offer appreciation of the many complicated layers of refugee lives. McBrien (2005) explains that refugee families are not only subject to financial stress, dealing with their own trauma and often do not speak the host country’s language yet they also are dealing with the “rigidity of cultural stereotypes and prejudices held by members of the host society [that] can lead to hostile discrimination” (p. 345).

A JRS social worker noted that refugees struggle in Nairobi when they are resettled there because of all of these factors and more. He says, what gives him hope is to see a refugee family be successful and become aware of the hurdles they have jumped through. He treats refugees as how he would like to be received if he had to flee his own country of Kenya. If we all took this approach, what kind of world would we be living in?

Perhaps the social worker is echoing the vision what Michelle Obama explained in her final speech, "It is our fundamental belief in the power of hope that has allowed us to rise above the voices of doubt and division, of anger and fear that we have faced in our own lives and the life of this country.” I don’t want to be preachy but rather to inform. However, as I have witnessed the power of love and hope, I am urged to say, instead of pushing people down and down because we are scared to lose something that we never earned anyway, why don’t we start making a concerted effort to share, do simple random acts of kindness, and try to walk in other people’s shoes for a change? Someday, we may find ourselves doing something radical like giving an institution $10 and changing a person’s life. Asante sana, 10 million times over, Richard.