Liberation

I like to dress nicely. As Tasnim included the Parliament visit as a part of the Reachout trip, I brought a full suit even though it took substantial amount of space in my suitecase (to the extent where I sacrificed bringing underwears). Aesthetics over practicality. Today during the Parliament visit, I was strolling around different buildings in my black suit that my dad bought me for my Yale interview, with a striped pink-red tie that hang around my neck. Perhaps it was a good representation of my persona. I am a huge fan of learning. I would like to arm myself with intellects, wits and wisdom and be the one who can proudly present himself in front of others. I am a proud Yalie. I would like to be successful. I would like to become a human being who self-realizes/actualizes and reaches his maximum potential. The suit was my persona and my persona was in my suite.

After the visit, I came back to my room and took my clothes off. Then I realized how sweaty and stuffy I felt in that formal suit. When I was untying my tie, I let out a breath of relief, realizing how it has been strangling my neck the whole day. As I was folding my clothes, I heard waves from outside. The sun was shining brilliantly, and the waves couldn’t have sounded any cooler. Okay, I need to run. Wait, maybe not just a normal run, but a barefoot run—I’ve been sick and tired of walking around in those black dress shoes. Wait, maybe without any shirt—I’m sick and tired of that stuffy suit. But let’s keep on the underwear. Let’s be as liberating as possible. Away from this sheltered hotel. To wherever my feet take me. No destination, no time constraint. Let’s be as free as possible, and this run would be awesome.

Then I ran outside along the coastline of Cape Town from my hotel. I ran with the sun and the wind and the ocean and the waves and the sand. As I was running, gazing far ahead in the horizon, my mind drifted to a very near past….

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Since a couple of years ago, I have been running hard for my successful future. At Yale, a lot of my time was devoted to studying and doing activities for learning purposes. To reach my life goal, post-graduation goal and others, I put my maximum efforts in every single thing I did. As a side effect, my first year at Yale, my sphere of activity was confined strictly within New Haven. I was heavily sheltered within the Yale community, unaware and even apathetic to what is going on outside the bubble that I was living in. Living in a utopia—correction, a heaven—why bother worry about something that is outside of it, when I am doing well in my preparation for my path? Despite my international background, I grew more myopic and avoided stepping out of the comfort zone.

Perhaps until I arrived at Rainbow Nation. Deceived by the beauty of Cape Town on the first day, I was shocked upon the visit to the town and the Power Child on the second day.  The well-laid road infrastructure of the first day was replaced with bumpy and unrefined roads; colorful houses with the scenic Cape Town beach background were replaced with bunbustans, or shanties made out of metal plates. Beauty replaced with poverty. English/Dutch-speaking whites replaced with Xhosa-speaking Africans. To be honest, I was thwarted by the situation that I observed with my eyes, and was dubious of my ability to blend with the locals and kids in reaching out.

Thankfully, I soon realized there was no barrier whatsoever between me and those people, despite our different backgrounds. I learned their ways of greeting and handshakes. With that combination of thumbing, high-fiving and pounding, you can win any kid’s heart. I learned their philosophies of life; Sisa told me about the car accident he got into, and the sense he made out of the occasion. I learned their passions, their goals. In their stories and their eyes, I saw a future soccer player, a successful businessman in Joburg, a French learner in Paris, and a professional ballroom dancer. With them I fingerpicked the guitar; with them I kicked soccer balls. With them I loved my toes and became sharks. There was no barrier between us, despite in certain cases where they did not speak English. I ran with them, arm-wrestled with them, got my hair plucked and got dehydrated. I was a Jackie Chen, a China, a goalie, a referee, a coach, a friend, a brother and a tutor. Over my cries from peeling/chopping onions did I bond with the two cooks. Over guitar I bonded with Monabiz and a local jazz guitarist in the town. Over soccer I bonded with innumerable males + KK. The bonds I’ve created in a week—sadly which I cannot bring back home with me—have been enormous and highly meaningful to me.

Without stepping out of the Yale bubble, I would have not realized the extent to which these people were passionate about their dreams, and how their situations did not allow them to achieve those goals. Without it, I would not have understood how all humans are basically the same and how they are dispositionally prone to be easily connected with one another. Without it, I would not have recalled and experienced the presence of the unconditional/pure love that is full of human warmth, which I have been oblivious during my busy college life.

How can ordinary lifestyle bring such epiphany? How can a person living in a sheltered comfort zone experience this? (Floating in the middle of the air of Cape Town? Eating crocodile meat?)

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Thoughts after thoughts, a couple of hours passed and now I am sitting on a pier near the ferris wheel in Waterfront, and am watching the sun setting. It is getting dark and it is time for me to return back to the hotel and say goodbye to this adventure. Then I will be back to the ordinary life, preparing for my own future—reading Plato or Aristotle or whatever—and perhaps forgetting some parts of this trip. But one thing, I will not forget this: that I went on a walk barefoot, not minding blisters and sun and cold ocean water; that I went on a trip with other awesome Yalies, bonding with the locals and realizing how every single individual has his own passion. I may return back to my normal Yalie life striving toward reaching my potential; but I should never forget about the fact that there are those who did not have chances to get any closer to reach their potentials and that there are those whom I should not turn my back to. Like Cameron of the Parliament told us today, us privileged people should continue interacting with the underprivileged and help bringing the equality and fairness of opportunities in this world.

Really, my feet are hurting bad. Blisters here and there and bleeding here and there. But it hurts good. It was worth a walking “trip,” and I would do this again a million times more. And I walk back to the hotel. Thinking about one day returning back and resuming this unfinished adventure of mine. Liberation.

- Andy Mun