Africa Yoga Project March 4, 2010

The final leg of my journey was to head back into Nairobi to spend a few days with the Africa Yoga Project and its founder, my friend, Paige Elenson. AYP is a non-profit organization that trains and then hires Kenyans to teach yoga in their own communities. All of the trainings and classes are free to participants and the teachers get paid from the fund raising efforts of AYP back in the states. It’s a brilliant model and it is a sustainable and efficient entity that has a dramatic positive impact on the local community.

Shortly after our arrival, we headed straight into one of the slums. Paige’s assistant a local from Nairobi informed me that there were about a half a million people living in this community. Had I not already travelled around a bit, I’m sure I would have been shocked to see (and smell) the living conditions, but the reality is that this is the way that half the human population lives.

From the start, I realized this was different from the experiences I had when I was officially with Off The Mat, this was even more raw. Even more real. Travelling in a group of 25 white women, with full time local guides/drivers, the energy of the group dynamic and the structure of our rigid schedules spoke loudly. But here, its just us and the people. Even Paige who has lived here for 4 years, and is engaged to a local takes extra precautions for safety. Hell…. even the locals themselves do, and usually dont go out after dark, unless they have arranged a driver. It is very common to get jumped or car jacked.

We stood outside a small shack of a building, and even though it looked as if one strong gust of wind could blow it down, it had an essence of playfulness with its light blue paint. As we were waiting outside, I was swarmed with kids. They lines up and pushed their way forward just to touch my hand. The sun was shining bright, the children were laughing and smiling. Moses, Paige’s assistant started leading the crowd with some short and simple yoga movements. I began taking pictures, and just like Uganda, the kids of Kenya are goofy and silly and truly enjoy seeing themselves in a picture. I removed my sunglasses at one point to change a setting on my camera, and at that same moment the sun glittered off my green eyes. The faces before me were beyond interested, so I left my glasses off and spent a little time allowing my sparklers to translate my compassionate connection to each child.

We moved into the small school house, I met some of the well dressed and polite teachers as we moved all the way to the last tiny little room where 30 kids were piled in. This class is under the guidance of Gerry, a young woman who was trained and now works for AYP. Without this opportunity, I doubt she would have work at all. She allows me to teach 1st, and I’m immediately amazed at how responsive the kids are. I have them slithering on the floor like snakes, making hissing sound and arching their backs to become kind cobra. At one point I had them all sit tall, hands in prayer and asked them to close their eyes. And they did. 30 elementary aged kids, sat quietly in meditation. Now, for anyone who has kids or taught kids you know how rare that would be. I sat in the juice of the silence way longer than I was anticipating, because I was truly blown away. I tagged out and Gerry took over, leading this room of small children in Swahili, through a full on power yoga sequence with vinyasas. I’m talking advanced transitions like half moon into triangle. It was crazy. At first I felt a bit silly for having “played yoga” but then again it occurred to me that these children take things seriously. Their lives are serious, so why wouldn’t they approach the practice as such. It was very clear that these kids were hungry for the activity, and were as pliable as play dough, eager to be molded physically and emotionally.

The next day we went to the other side of Nairobi, to yet another slum consisting of small shanti shacks all on top of each other. This was an ongoing class that had a strong group of young men that that taught and practiced here in a community center. I threw my mat down in the middle of the sea of strong dark men. Paige had warned me that this practice was going to kick my butt. We were sweating and breathing and groaning and shaking our way into bliss. The class was led by a man from this neighborhood that wore longer dreads and a chiseled frame. If I met him in the dark on the street no doubt I would have been afraid. But this strong brother named Azi, was a yogi. He kept encouraging us to shine. “Let your hands spread and shine. Let your hearts shine.”, and within minutes I could feel my face beginning to shine with a subtle blend of awe, admiration, gratitude and hope. After class ended, there was an everlasting handstand contest to determine who would get the overpriced professional men’s yoga pants (couldn’t sell that at home, so I put them to good use, and it’s funny because no one here knows or cares about the brand). And as we were heading out another group of young men came into the room and began to warm up. Paige told me that they were a hip hop/ b-boy crew that had won what would be the equivalent of Americas Best Dance Crew back in the states. They said it was cool to watch for a few, and even let me shoot some video. OMG. These boys are bad ass. One after the other performed for us making this private show one of the biggest highlights of my trip. Kept saying “I can’t believe I’m here seeing this.” Beyond Cool.

On our last day with AYP, we had the chance to attend the teachers practice. All of her certified teachers are required to attend the Saturday practice and lectures, and we were invited to teach. Over the past few days Paige had told me about some of the issues this community faced. Two of her teachers were jumped and beaten just the week before. The group had just gone through some drama around the fear and stigma of being accused of having HIV/Aids. I have no clue if any of these people were positive, the reality is that many must be, but frankly it’s none of my business, and being accused of such is no joking matter here. And one of her most influential teachers, a man who is a true leader to this community, is dealing with the aftermath of his 4 year old daughter being raped. Paige told me that he had been filled with rage wanting to bring about his own justice but that the yoga had helped him let go of some of that hate. She also told me that even considering all of the issues these people face, they often pretend that everything is fine, as they’ve been taught not to draw attention things that may bring shame.

I decided to give a lecture on trauma. I began by gathering the group in a circle, getting everyone’s names and then asked them if they understood the word TRAUMA. They did. A fellow named Papa (again a mentor here) translated some of my comments, to ensure everyone was with me. They were. We gave examples of trauma, from physical to emotional, many mirroring the same stuff we deal with in the states, yet others we can’t even fathom. I asked them what the Swahili word for trauma was, and they said there is no word to describe trauma. We discussed the very significance of this, that trauma is usually the things we should not speak about. Yet, when something is not acknowledged and healed it stays in the body and festers. But that the yoga helps us to release the pain from our physical body and creates a safe place for us to explore and heal the emotional content. I lectured on the whole self, how yoga helps us align our bodies with our minds and hearts and from here we can heal our wounds and our full potential can be reached. The energy in the room was palpable. We had dropped into a sacred place where it was easy to share to connect. It’s rare when this happens even within our own comfort groups. Never have I had the pleasure of doing so with people who are so different from me culturally. Even I shared something I’ve never spoken of in public, something that usually brings great shame for me. But not here. Not this time. Perhaps even never again. At the very end of the session, the floor is open to questions and comments, this is a regular part of the AYP curriculum. There were thank yous and acknowledgements all around. They discussed some upcoming events and handled more structural tid bits. Then Azi, (the teacher from the day before) announced that someone in this group has just suffered a trauma. He announced the 5 year old daughter of another man here was just raped (my god, this is the second story like this and I’ve only been here 3 days) and that he needs some money to be able to get his daughter back, so that he can protect and care for her himself. One of the girls that came with me wanted us to pitch in to give him the money. I told her that we can’t just come in and buy people’s problems away and it’s inappropriate to think that we can. This is a community, one that is getting closer every day. And one that has the potential to make change within themselves. The truth is that all of the AYP teachers get their paychecks this same day. If each of them pitches in some change, together they can help this member of their yoga family.

Back at Paige’s house I was supposed to be packing and getting ready for my 35 hour trip back to Fl. But instead I sat on the floor with her entranced by what I had just been a part of. Had I not taught them about trauma, they would not have shared this recent tragedy. The father would not have gotten the support and understanding of his community, and they would not have the opportunity to see that together they can accomplish much more than any single person can do. I feel so blessed to have been able to contribute. Suddenly, my whole life makes sense. Then we discussed the “now what” part of the experience.

AYP, although surviving and cultivating a sustainable structure, could use more funding, plain and simple. They have recently launched a new mentoring program that allows studios or individuals from the west to financially sponsor a teacher in Kenya while cultivating a personal relationship with them and supporting their yoga educational process. With a commitment of $100 a month (tax deductible) and at least one Skype conversation a month, we can continue to be a part of this empowering project. I had told Paige that I wanted to do this, and she asked me if I would mentor Papa. She said that he is the gentleman she had told me about the other day who had healed some of his pain around his daughters rape through yoga. He is truly eager to learn more about yoga and trauma and that my mentoring him , would enable him to mentor so many here. She introduced us officially, and he was thrilled. This relationship guarantees him some much needed income but more so he seems honored to have the opportunity to learn more. Honestly, I’m not sure yet, how I plan on approaching this partnership. But I continue to trust that it will unfold perfectly, as long as we both keep our hearts and minds open to each other.

To learn more about Africa Yoga Project or to become a sponsor or mentor of an AYP teacher go to www.AfricaYogaProject.org.