YYAS Kenya 2019

Perhaps, going to the Yale Young African Scholar's Program didn't change my life, but it changed me. The Vuyo Kwakweni who returned from Kenya was not the Vuyo Kwakweni who went there.

The first part of that process of change was the fact that I went there and I was alone. My mother dropped me at the airport, but with a final wave and air kiss to her when I stepped through the gates, my family was gone and it was just me, with no crutch. It was not the scary endeavour I believed it would be. Instead, it felt like an adventure; it was my first time travelling internationally, so everything about flying felt brand new. It felt like I was going on an Eat-Pray-Love-esque journey – that included some studying – to find myself. I laugh at myself looking back because I realise that’s not how it works. You don’t go somewhere to find yourself. You eventually find yourself because you were there. The Vuyo post-YYAS was different and the same: I had the same dreams, but now I have a whole new community that supports my aspirations and inspires new ones.

At YYAS Kenya, everyone was new to everyone. I would either be alone, or I would choose to be with different people, and the choice was freeing because being alone for a couple of hours at school is impossible.

I remember when someone was describing the supposedly hierarchal cliques that had emerged during our stay. I was surprised because I didn’t see a hierarchy. I saw cliques, of course, but no one felt bigger than another because they all had this individual energy about them that could only be created at YYAS, a programme which creates a community from communities. They were all the different shades of yellow: full of laughter and the newness of it all, each one unique.

Before I finish this essay, I’ll share one moment that I will never forget. As a result of having a later flight along with a few others, I arrived in the evening when all the orientation and enrichment things had been done, so I only knew the nine people with whom I had travelled. During registration, I realised that I didn’t have a room number on my information sheet, and I enquired about it. Molly, one of the instructors, told me that I had a choice between the boys’ and girls’ dormitories because I identified as nonbinary on my application.

If I had been on a regular school trip with my class, I would not have hesitated. I would have picked the girls' dormitories because I knew it was the safest and most comfortable option. However, no one had asked before. That was the first time I was given the choice.

I had a simple thought then: You will never have this opportunity again.

I chose the boys’ dormitory.

When I let my mother know the next day, she was so stressed, but I wasn’t. Every boy in that dormitory came from places unknown to me, they had backgrounds I could not imagine. It would not be fair of me to judge them so quickly. And I did not regret my decision.

I had different conversations in the common area; I answered interesting questions when I was on the grass reading; I forged friendships that would not exist if I judged them before I knew them; everyone respected my space.

To end this essay, I want to emphasise the idea that whatever path we may choose to go on, we never actually know where we will end up. Sometimes, we end up at an unfortunate destination. Other times, we end up somewhere wonderful beyond our limited imaginations. Those are the times when we change with no hope of being who you were before we began that journey.

The most important thing I learned on my journey was that you will meet people that defy everything you think you know, and this is one of the rare times you’ll be happy you’re wrong.