EAST AFRICA
There is fear and a rethinking of futures
The presidential election has shaken America, but the streets of Eastleigh, the Somali neighborhood in Nairobi, Kenya, have been buzzing with talk of Donald Trump's victory for days. I was there when the news broke. People are afraid. They fear for the safety of their relatives in Minnesota. Accounts and stories of people harassing Muslim Americans and immigrants have made their way to Kenya. People enthusiastically ripping hijabs off women, spitting on immigrants, telling them to go home, increased sexual assaults, the drawing of offensive slurs and images on buildings — the list goes on. As an American citizen, people asked me questions: Can I wear a hijab in America? Will Trump declare war on the Muslim world? Will my family be sent home? Is my family safe?
The attitudes of Trump and his supporters are no secret. English is the language of the world and a major language in Kenya. I worked as an ESL teacher in Eastleigh for the month of October, and I know that the register of English spoken by the president-elect and his supporters is easy enough for English learners to understand. Build a wall. Deport Muslims. Nothing is lost in translation.
This does not sound like the America I left in late September, or the America people around the world dream of. Many here in Kenya wished to one day join their families in Minnesota, but they are aware of the polarizing effect of the campaign season and the xenophobic environment it has created. To them, America was known as the land of opportunity, but now they think they are not welcome. If we do not stop this rhetoric and behavior, their hope may not return.
Karsten Potts
The writer is a Somali and French interpreter who works between Minnesota, Djibouti and Kenya. He is currently working with Al Imra College in Nairobi, Kenya, teaching English and developing an online curriculum as a new resource for students.
FROM A FORWARD OPERATING BASE IN AFGHANISTAN
Us vs. Them: Our eternal challenge
Through the mental mist of a cold and the aftermath of rocket fire, the election looks strange. I watched the opening of the polls and last-minute speechifying while trying to take an exercise break. The tone of the coverage was sensational, the contenders were beyond confrontational.
A lifetime ago, I learned something of the American West and its native peoples. In addition to living in balance with nature, I learned that native tribes who might refer to themselves as "the people" did not necessarily acknowledge the "peopleness" of the tribe next door. In my travels since, I have seen this issue in every continent I have worked in: Us vs. Them.
Today and everyday here in Afghanistan, I live the "Us vs. Them" life. For sure, we meet many Afghans whom we respect and trust — but, we also meet or "indirectly meet" nearby Afghans who see us as them, the invaders, those who are not people and should therefore cease to exist. This is a real problem.
In the Army, I work with a diverse group of Americans. I am sure that our political colors mesh into purple. Our skins would mesh into the dark side of tan, and our first languages were often not U.S. English. Still, we get along. We salute one another and (this is key) we return salutes. We serve in danger with loaded weapons, bound by our collective need to protect one another. And, when rockets come, and they do come, we hit the ground together shoulder to shoulder, brothers and sisters of all colors doing our best to stay alive, to get back home, to represent U.S. democracy in a foreign land. That this war seems unending is not our immediate concern. Serving our country with honor is.