So here I am, my dorm room at the London School of Economics looking more like an Ikea explosion than luggage ready for Nairobi, and I’m choosing to ignore the shocked expression of my roommate when I announced my flight to Kenya is tomorrow. Nevertheless, I am excited and in great anticipation of these next six weeks at Daraja Academy, and while I know Monday will bring many new faces and hesitant introductions, something inside  tells me it won’t be long before Daraja feels like home

This road to Daraja has been a long time coming, I have felt pulled in many directions by my academia, Economics preparing you to be a banker, Social Policy preparing you to be a politician, etc. Yet the more knowledge I acquire, the more books I read, I find myself being constantly pulled towards building. Using the tools, the innovation, the entrepreneurship we are given in developed countries and furthering it in an economy and community that has never been given the opportunity to reach its potential. I want to build. But as even the Millenium Bridge outside my window in London had to be rebuilt three times due to swaying, you learn builders can’t build a bridge or a nation on a first try. They watch, they observe, they learn.

So my conquest to find somewhere to be an understudy began. I wanted to see policy, change, potential being laid as a foundation in an untouched place in hopes of learning and researching for after I graduate. I found global corporations, volunteering organizations, and even though their goals were strong and achievements impactful, I wanted to find builders. At this time it so happened my older brother came to visit, and brought with him my mail that failed to be forwarded to my new address. As most were bills, I was quick to get the shredder going when I noticed I had mail from a teacher at my old high school. Curious about what was inside, and hoping I didn’t have any three-year overdue assignments, I opened the letter and remember laughing at how sometimes timing can be perfect. I could feel the excitement well up as I read about two builders implementing education in East Africa, giving opportunity to young women living on the outskirts in semi-nomadic tribes and slum towns. THIS was building, in not only untouched land, but a crucial part of Africa that yearns for the tools and infrastructure to move forward. I had to be a part of it, and I am still in awe it all worked out and that I am arriving tomorrow!

I said it before, I want to learn how to build. Yet in no way does that mean I already know how, and I will admit to you the feelings I have been embracing this week are ones of confusion and inferiority. What can I teach these young women, how can I offer anything at a place that has been created by the very hands of great teachers and builders? I am eager to meet these women, to ask questions, to find out what paths they are on, and to learn what is next for them during and after Daraja. But I am not sure what I can offer in return, and for the first time since entering the LSE, UK history, the Thatcher Era, and second order derivatives aren’t going to get me anywhere! This isn’t academia anymore, these are strong young women with their own history, and I am excited and anxious to see where I will fit in this summer. As I have been telling Jenni and Jason for quite a while now – I can’t wait to finally get there!