One morning about 3 months ago, I was standing in the lobby of Nation Centre waiting for an elevator, completely focused on all the reasons why the day was already shot straight to HELL and nothing would EVER get accomplished, when I noticed a man staring at me. His hair was pure white, and he had the rounded belly and stocky frame often associated with a Kenyan “Mzee," the Swahili word meaning “wise old man.” (It's pronounced "Ma-zay.")
I probably don’t even have to tell you what I was thinking, but I’ll do it anyway---“Oh, great! On top of all the traffic jams and computer problems and sporadic riots that might occur during the next 8 hours, I can add the inestimable pleasure of getting macked by a dirty old Mzee." I hoped a look of thinly-veiled disgust would cool the old coot’s jets.
And then he spoke. But he didn't ask if I was married, or offer a compliment on one of my body parts. He just said, “Relax. Don’t worry, everything will be all right.”
I had a choice at that moment. I could have kept riding the wave of frustration that had swept me into the lobby by suggesting that he mind his own damn business. But something made me pause and take a deep breath. And then I flashed that gent a big smile and thanked him for helping me slow my roll and keep things in perspective
That 20 second experience was powerful. Once I got to my desk, I even mentioned it in a Facebook update (after spending a couple hours trying to get the doggoned computer to work). It seemed to affirm one of my all-time favorite sayings: “When the student is ready, the teacher appears.” In that brief interaction, that stranger was my teacher, because I acknowledged the value of his message instead of dismissing it outright. If you’re in a pissy mood before your day even gets started good, you can best believe that bile will scald the rest of your day.
Sadly, that Zen-like state of calm only lasted an hour or so, and then I slipped right back into Prunella mode, a mental state I’m finding remarkably easy to adopt these days. I think one reason is there are just too many things on my plate, and I could really use an assistant to offload some of them. But until that happens, I just gotta keep plugging through that list, one step at a time.
Take this morning, fr’instance. I’d arranged a meeting with Professor Raphael Munavu, who chairs the Kenya National Academy of Sciences and has an office at the University of Nairobi. I saw him speak a few weeks ago at a debate about the status of Science and Technology in Kenya. I’m actually a board member for the group that organized the debate, so I was really pleased by the quality of the speakers and the dialogue between experts and the audience. Specifically, Professor Munavu made a spirited case about the need to provide the public with accurate, thorough information about science as it relates to Kenya’s development.
I had to leave immediately after the debate, so I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself to Professor Munavu that day. But I decided he might be the perfect person to help get one of my other projects going, that of a regular, large-scale briefing and training format for Kenyan reporters. Since the Academy of Sciences is funded by the government, they could definitely afford to help me pull it off. It would just be a matter of selling myself and my idea to him.
Trust and believe that I was NOT feelin’ that goal this morning when I reached Professor Munavu’s office, which is only about a mile and a half from my apartment. Bottleneck traffic turned a 5-minute trip into a 45 minute ordeal. When the taxi finally reached the University's main gate, I was ready to turn right back around and climb back into bed. That mood was aggravated by the fact that just beyond the main gate lies the city’s mortuary. Since I didn’t know how to get to Professor Munavu’s building, I ducked into an open doorway to ask for directions and was greeted by the cheery image of a coffin-lined wall.
I had a choice to make at that moment. I could just decide that the day was already completely fucked, and I could have stomped my way to Professor Munavu’s building with my face twisted into a mask of piss-edness that would have poisoned the whole interaction.
But after backing out of the coffin chamber in mock horror, something made me look up and look around me. Today was an absolutely glorious day in Nairobi. The sun was shining, it was in the mid seventies, and the air on campus was fresh and floral. And I had to admit, I feel pretty good these days. My ankle healed remarkably quickly, and I had a spa pedicure the other day to die for, and I’m extremely lucky to be exactly where I am at this exact moment, as opposed to, say, the Mid-Atlantic Region of the United States.
So I made my choice and banished the rotten attitude. I walked with my head held high, and I felt the sun shining down on me, and I was grateful for everything. Especially for the fact that this big-deal guy in Kenyan academic and scientific circles had agreed to meet with me. Whether anything came of it or not, well, at least I would have given it my best shot.
When I finally made it to Professor Munavu’s office, I flashed him my brightest smile and apologized for being so late. I told him I’d enjoyed his remarks at the recent debate, and was grateful for this opportunity to meet with him. He replied, “I think we have met before.”
I struggled to try and remember where. Maybe at a reception, or some a briefing about some new scientific research?
“No, I met you at Nation Centre.”
I said, “Hmmm, was it at an editor’s meeting, or some PR event?”
“No, I met you in front of the elevators one morning, and I told you everything would be all right. Is everything all right?”
I was in Professor Munavu’s office for about an hour this morning, but we may have only discussed my project for
15 minutes. The rest of the time, when I wasn’t absolutely trembling in shock at the coincidence, Mzee Munavu schooled me on the phenomenon of synchronicity, and why things often seem to come out of the blue, when we may have actually helped set the forces in motion long before.
Afterwards, walking back to the main gate past the coffins and such, I also considered what would have happened if I HAD rebuffed that Mystical Mzee’s comforting words in front of the elevators a few months ago. This morning’s meeting would have been a whole lot shorter, that’s for sure. Oh, by the way Professor Munavu is the guy on the left in the photo above, shaking hands with Kenyan President Kibaki. I think he’ll be able to help me get my project off the ground.
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