Orientation

So, it has been a long time. Orientation began August 24 in Stony Point, NY with all YAVs, domestic and international. Friends were made for a week and for a year as we learned about how to act on site and how to be in relationship with it and the people we'll find. And then we were sent off to find some people.
At the Nairobi airport, the closest people we found to what we were looking for was a guy with an A.V. poster whose people did not come find him. After looking around a bit, we asked him whether it was possible there was a "Y" at the beginning. Which there should have been. We had met one of the two drivers who was to take us to our house. We stay in a guest wing of a University Doctor's house until Sept 22. We'll take Kiswahili lessons and various other classes and discussions. Next weekend we are to go to Meru for a Youth Challenge with a mission coworker also from the PCUSA. The other absence from our guest wing was this past weekend. From Friday to Monday we have stayed with our host families for the year. Coming from the middle or upper class of areas in or near Nairobi, our families will be great resources for us as we learn language and culture. And we can hang out with them at will. My family lives outside Nairobi a good distance (took about 2 hrs in traffic--"jams") in Kahawa Sukari. We spent time together relaxing, cooking, watching movies, and exchanging stories and views. They live in a two-story concrete house they built themselves with a nice yard, chickens, and a German Shepard. They have bananas, mangoes, and papaya trees in the yard, and maize (not sweet corn--a bit firmer kernel) in a field nearby. My father here is a pastor, working now in the denominational offices of the PCEA, and the family is very involved in the local parish (a terminology used here in the presbyterian church).
A highlight of the weekend was Saturday's family get-together. (not much time--I may revise later). By the time we got there, the men had gathered around the fire and hunks of goat were sitting on the grill. As it roasted (after having been slaughtered and boiled that morning), they spread a sauce much like pico de gallo on it. As we talked and the man of the house led me around the yard (cultivated skillfully for maize, fruit trees, 2 cows, sitting areas, and good-looking shrubberies), I learned of "African Socialism." Neighbors share. Family shares. It is a beautiful mutual reciprocity, assuming abundance of the land and provision from God. Even in the current drought and hardship, abundance and hospitality is tantamount to identity. And I was welcomed into the eating of tongue, leg, and various other tender and tough pieces. The women swapped some other food for some of our meat, and we had salad, beans, ugali (think grits but more cakey/biscuity), and rice. I had a delicious citrus pod from the garden. Peeling back red, stringy casing, I discovered a fleshy citrus with black peppery seeds (which you aren't supposed to chew, just swallow). The highlight was a rosemary stew with the broth from boiling the meat chunks. The secret ingredient, stirred in after much boiling, was the brain of the goat. It was deliciously thick and fatty. I had 3 mugs. I learned that "men do not eat a little."

More later.