Wednesday, October 28, 2009
E minor
October draws to a close, and the rains have come. We wait to see if the rains will grow into the promised El Nino torrent. Now they just begin to assuage the drought. Every other day or more frequently the clouds break into a refreshing shower for a few hours. The sunsets have been better since the rain started.
I heard about a volunteer years ago in Kenya (I think even through the PCUSA, probably the VIM program) who apparently was sticking it to government corruption and whatnot. I heard recently that the denomination who places us, the PCEA, is the denomination of the President, VP, and many lawyers. The ministry here has not so far looked like protests and rallies, only presence. I am a missionary to a country with more Christians per capita than the U.S. I am a presbyterian missionary with a PCEA church some of whose members think "P" is for "Protestant." The language here tends away from denominationalism, and the divide is often between "born-again" and not. I haven't heard a layperson talk about Reformed theology to explain their presbyterianism. The leaders of the churches have studied, but the average churchgoer won't talk of total depravity or perseverance of the saints. They'll know the teachings of Osteen better than those of Luther, Calvin, Schaeffer, and Buechner combined (but that's a weird list). The separation in the situation stems from European and American missionaries arriving from different denominations in different parts of Kenya. Many ethnic groups are mostly of one denomination, as the early missionaries of different denominations went to different areas. Stir that up in a pot with 42 language groups in an area the size of Texas, and the current language trend for interdenominational unity (use of "born-again") becomes more than an authenticity test (which is part of it)--it is a survival strategy. The church must look like a church, and people must be able to communicate about spiritual matters in a unified way in order for those who lead their cows through the streets of Nairobi to tell their neighbors who run the country, brothers and sisters in Christ, of their spirituality.
For church this Sunday, Josh and I went to Gatundu PCEA with the Mercy, the matron of our boarding school. After a short English service with no pew full, we left. Returning for the Kikuyu service a bit later, we found standing room only. We didn't stay long, but we greeted them with a song. "They will know we are Christians by our love," we sang in a key about a third too low. "We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord," says the first verse. Mercy said they spoke of it throughout the service as a message from God. The Kenyan people, who worship divided by ethnicity and historical circumstance, gobbled up the message of unity from two wazungu (foreigners). Maybe that's what our ministry here will look like. If we can practice unity here among our Presbyterian brothers and sisters, maybe that's also the best thing we can take back with us to our United States, and work and pray that all unity may one day be restored.
I heard about a volunteer years ago in Kenya (I think even through the PCUSA, probably the VIM program) who apparently was sticking it to government corruption and whatnot. I heard recently that the denomination who places us, the PCEA, is the denomination of the President, VP, and many lawyers. The ministry here has not so far looked like protests and rallies, only presence. I am a missionary to a country with more Christians per capita than the U.S. I am a presbyterian missionary with a PCEA church some of whose members think "P" is for "Protestant." The language here tends away from denominationalism, and the divide is often between "born-again" and not. I haven't heard a layperson talk about Reformed theology to explain their presbyterianism. The leaders of the churches have studied, but the average churchgoer won't talk of total depravity or perseverance of the saints. They'll know the teachings of Osteen better than those of Luther, Calvin, Schaeffer, and Buechner combined (but that's a weird list). The separation in the situation stems from European and American missionaries arriving from different denominations in different parts of Kenya. Many ethnic groups are mostly of one denomination, as the early missionaries of different denominations went to different areas. Stir that up in a pot with 42 language groups in an area the size of Texas, and the current language trend for interdenominational unity (use of "born-again") becomes more than an authenticity test (which is part of it)--it is a survival strategy. The church must look like a church, and people must be able to communicate about spiritual matters in a unified way in order for those who lead their cows through the streets of Nairobi to tell their neighbors who run the country, brothers and sisters in Christ, of their spirituality.
For church this Sunday, Josh and I went to Gatundu PCEA with the Mercy, the matron of our boarding school. After a short English service with no pew full, we left. Returning for the Kikuyu service a bit later, we found standing room only. We didn't stay long, but we greeted them with a song. "They will know we are Christians by our love," we sang in a key about a third too low. "We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord," says the first verse. Mercy said they spoke of it throughout the service as a message from God. The Kenyan people, who worship divided by ethnicity and historical circumstance, gobbled up the message of unity from two wazungu (foreigners). Maybe that's what our ministry here will look like. If we can practice unity here among our Presbyterian brothers and sisters, maybe that's also the best thing we can take back with us to our United States, and work and pray that all unity may one day be restored.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Dusty Gatundu no longer
I do my own laundry here. This does not mean I go to the first floor and throw my clothes in the washer or even take public transit to the laundromat. It means I put soap in a bucket, fill it with water, then fill another with just water. Then, washing, agitating (with some friction), and rinsing complete, the clothesline becomes home to jeans, shirts, trousers, and socks. Our cautious site coordinator told us to be more discreet with other items, so they go to the line in my room. The efficacy of this washing style depends on the skill of the operator, but as much as I worked really hard to get the soil (Africans respect it too much to call it “dirt”) out of my cuffs and trouser hems. There are pieces of Africa stuck so firmly in my wardrobe that I cannot but take them with me.
I was counting on that. A year in a place will leave its mark, and this place has things to teach me from language and geography to how to respect people in a different way. I have yet to see what dirt I'd like to leave with the people here to remember and respect my culture. It's easy to be a friend, and sharing the love of Christ is why I'm here. So that's part of it.
There was a wedding yesterday! One of our fellow teachers took us to his family's home, where we learned some Kikuyu, had some delicious food, and learned to slaughter a chicken. We got to the wedding late (I don't think we knew when it started), so we caught people as they were going to the reception from the service. It was remarkably similar in what happened (waiting, food, announcements on a low quality speaker, cake). It was pretty tame--there was no loudness and little dancing, just smiles, family, and friends. The tradition here is to have a married couple for Best Man and Best Woman. Or whatever it's called. They not only help plan the wedding, they advise the couple--early troubles in marriage are not taken to parents or counselors, but to the best couple.
Finished Sir Gibbie--we’ll see what I read next. Last one was Confessions of an Economic Hitman. I recommend either and especially both. I read an edited version of Sir Gibbie which was terribly easy to read for all the ramblings filtered out. Theres a Wilde Picture that I think will be next, but it is on my computer--will need something else for the staff room.
The rain is here almost every day, and my time is up.
I was counting on that. A year in a place will leave its mark, and this place has things to teach me from language and geography to how to respect people in a different way. I have yet to see what dirt I'd like to leave with the people here to remember and respect my culture. It's easy to be a friend, and sharing the love of Christ is why I'm here. So that's part of it.
There was a wedding yesterday! One of our fellow teachers took us to his family's home, where we learned some Kikuyu, had some delicious food, and learned to slaughter a chicken. We got to the wedding late (I don't think we knew when it started), so we caught people as they were going to the reception from the service. It was remarkably similar in what happened (waiting, food, announcements on a low quality speaker, cake). It was pretty tame--there was no loudness and little dancing, just smiles, family, and friends. The tradition here is to have a married couple for Best Man and Best Woman. Or whatever it's called. They not only help plan the wedding, they advise the couple--early troubles in marriage are not taken to parents or counselors, but to the best couple.
Finished Sir Gibbie--we’ll see what I read next. Last one was Confessions of an Economic Hitman. I recommend either and especially both. I read an edited version of Sir Gibbie which was terribly easy to read for all the ramblings filtered out. Theres a Wilde Picture that I think will be next, but it is on my computer--will need something else for the staff room.
The rain is here almost every day, and my time is up.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Update!
It's been a long time. I may have just set up posting by email, which means I don't have to blog from Gatundu (when they have power) or Nairobi (where I've been for the past two weekends, but not again soon). Last time we tried to blog in Gatundu, there was electricity rationing because it was Wednesday. Anyway, we are spending a weekend in Nairobi. Josh and I, seeing an opportunity to travel with the prefects, rode in a packed bus of high schoolers to the giraffe sanctuary and Mamba village Friday (see pics). The giraffes ate pellets from our hands and, if coaxed, from our lips. I need to get the pictures of that online-my previous picture uploading was interrupted and I don't have them today. Mamba village had crocodiles! Their toothy grins and surprisingly squishy flesh
So, we have seen many beautiful things this weekend on our midterm break. The Min. of Ed. actually recommended (mandated? I wasn't sure of the wording) that boarding schools (most of them) not take midterm recess to stem the spread of H1N1. However, students still needed to go home to collect school fees (that would've been today--they would've just stayed at school for the weekend and gone home today anyway), so we let out as soon as we knew that schools nearby also had. I wonder if some politician just wanted to cover his bases with that mandate.
There have been some interesting discussions about polygamy that we have heard. Because of a proposed change in legislation, it has come up a few times. As far as I can tell now, the church does not support second marriages (polygyny, of course), but tradition and government will as long as the man can support a second wife and has the first wife's permission. Josh and I have both been surprised to hear women championing the cause more rationally than men. For obvious reasons a man's argument for a second wife is accompanied with chuckles and grins, but a woman's argument can be based on bitterness. One intelligent unmarried woman lamented that all the good men would not take second wives, proposing (is twice too much?) a situation where good husbands have multiple wives and bad guys have none. I was not converted, but it was the most effective argument for something that until recently was just part of the culture, or as one person told us, part of being "a gentleman."
Monday, September 28, 2009
Facts
We are in Gatundu this afternoon for our groceries. We are sick of lentils. We saw some bananas, garlic, bread, and tomatoes that look good. The forty-minute walk was started after lunch, and it's nice to break in the shade of this internet cafe before we buy our groceries in the market on the way back. Our apartment is great--living room with a pair of couches and a pair of chairs. We each have a room with a double bed, and the kitchen has one burner. The single burner, absence of hot water, and necessity of walking to get foodstuffs are simple enough, I suppose. The school (Icaciri High) has welcomed us well. I taught a math class today, with some dimensional analysis. I'll be getting used to the board, to the style of math they've learned, etc, but it helps that for the next week at least, they know most everything already.
But, that's all for now. Keep reading for musings.
But, that's all for now. Keep reading for musings.
Mind the pedestrians
Written 27 Sept 09
I've been pointed by a dear friend to ponder the place of Eden in theology. The gist of it is that the Garden is not simply the sundering of humans and God, but a pivot or even a pedestal in human development as a species. The Genesis account of the Garden had humans in a small space, naming animals and living without conflict. They disobey the only command they are given and are banished, cursed. The elements of the curse include working the land, childbirth, and hardship. "Knowledge of good and evil" is the fruit of their disobedience. The snake said they would become like gods, and they did a little. But the elements of the curse allow for humans to grow and develop in unique ways, ways that are now incorporated into our humanity itself. For humans are satisfied in working the land, in raising children, and even in working through adversity. Working the land fulfills better "fill the earth and subdue it" than simple naming of animals, and in romantic relationships and child rearing (and letting go of) there are uniquely complex images of God's love for us. So thinks one Jewish rabbi, anyway. Perhaps this direction to take the text is unorthodox, but it seems to work fine in the text--Genesis does not read "thus the human race was sundered from God" or "thus did humans come to be equipped to know God better." So maybe either reading is wrong if it is oversimplified. They are perhaps opposite faces of a jewel, or mirrors with different hues.
The Road Goes Ever On and On
I asked someone whether the road behind us was Uhuru highway and they responded categorically, "No, that's Waiyaki Way." I was confused--I had been thinking for a while that it was Uhuru Highway. So the next time I consulted my Nairobi map, I checked. Sure enough, right by where we were the road was called Waiyaki Way, but a km east the road was Uhuru Highway (written much bigger). Earlier in September, we heard about Mombasa road (which I think is an extension of Uhuru Highway as well, but I won't offer that nomenclature to a Kenyan). After we had discussed the road for a while, I pointed to it and was corrected then, too--it's not Mombasa road if you point to the side on which the cars go the other direction. It seems like the same road to me.
Out from the door where it began
Two sermons here have pushed the bounds of good theology without actually overstepping them. The pastor at Icaciri High today talked on Jeremiah 29:11, and the plans God has for us. He talked of the specificity of God's plan for us equally as emphatically as he talked of the importance of our aspirations and God's plans to fulfill them. He went almost farther than I was comfortable following talking of God's plan to make us successful, and I was getting all self-righteous, saying to myself "should have guessed from a Jer 29:11 sermon from an itinerant pastor." But I realized he started out from a very high view of God's plan that dictates our actions, and he returned to it after talking of success. I felt stretched--I could not reach both the extremes he seemed to be coming from. A connector came. It was not explicitly meant to connect an intentional paradox in the previous parts, but this was how I interpreted the role of Christ. Heart transformation and new birth are what unifies our success with God's plan. Oh, duh. Humbled after my critical episode, I remembered the first Sunday here in Kenya where I heard a sermon that bordered on answering "who sinned so that this man would be blind?" (but in regard to the current drought). But that pastor, too, apparently disregarded the possibility of tumultuous theology and plunged forward in the Scriptures, speaking truth not by staying on the fence but by disregarding it and passing through.
I won't even connect this here to issues of identity with rural, pastoral, traditional African on one side and American, British, urban, and technological on the other. That's one road many travel here, but starting from different places and going different directions. I cannot predict how that landscape is shifting. I will say that I once heard of a theologian (I don't remember which one, I think it was an early 20th-century person) soaring over the conflict of others with sound, scriptural truths. It would uphold Jacob's Bethel utterance if the God who is surely in Mombasa, Nairobi, and Meru is in Calvin and Arminius, Osteen and St Francis, and split Presbyterians.
I've been pointed by a dear friend to ponder the place of Eden in theology. The gist of it is that the Garden is not simply the sundering of humans and God, but a pivot or even a pedestal in human development as a species. The Genesis account of the Garden had humans in a small space, naming animals and living without conflict. They disobey the only command they are given and are banished, cursed. The elements of the curse include working the land, childbirth, and hardship. "Knowledge of good and evil" is the fruit of their disobedience. The snake said they would become like gods, and they did a little. But the elements of the curse allow for humans to grow and develop in unique ways, ways that are now incorporated into our humanity itself. For humans are satisfied in working the land, in raising children, and even in working through adversity. Working the land fulfills better "fill the earth and subdue it" than simple naming of animals, and in romantic relationships and child rearing (and letting go of) there are uniquely complex images of God's love for us. So thinks one Jewish rabbi, anyway. Perhaps this direction to take the text is unorthodox, but it seems to work fine in the text--Genesis does not read "thus the human race was sundered from God" or "thus did humans come to be equipped to know God better." So maybe either reading is wrong if it is oversimplified. They are perhaps opposite faces of a jewel, or mirrors with different hues.
The Road Goes Ever On and On
I asked someone whether the road behind us was Uhuru highway and they responded categorically, "No, that's Waiyaki Way." I was confused--I had been thinking for a while that it was Uhuru Highway. So the next time I consulted my Nairobi map, I checked. Sure enough, right by where we were the road was called Waiyaki Way, but a km east the road was Uhuru Highway (written much bigger). Earlier in September, we heard about Mombasa road (which I think is an extension of Uhuru Highway as well, but I won't offer that nomenclature to a Kenyan). After we had discussed the road for a while, I pointed to it and was corrected then, too--it's not Mombasa road if you point to the side on which the cars go the other direction. It seems like the same road to me.
Out from the door where it began
Two sermons here have pushed the bounds of good theology without actually overstepping them. The pastor at Icaciri High today talked on Jeremiah 29:11, and the plans God has for us. He talked of the specificity of God's plan for us equally as emphatically as he talked of the importance of our aspirations and God's plans to fulfill them. He went almost farther than I was comfortable following talking of God's plan to make us successful, and I was getting all self-righteous, saying to myself "should have guessed from a Jer 29:11 sermon from an itinerant pastor." But I realized he started out from a very high view of God's plan that dictates our actions, and he returned to it after talking of success. I felt stretched--I could not reach both the extremes he seemed to be coming from. A connector came. It was not explicitly meant to connect an intentional paradox in the previous parts, but this was how I interpreted the role of Christ. Heart transformation and new birth are what unifies our success with God's plan. Oh, duh. Humbled after my critical episode, I remembered the first Sunday here in Kenya where I heard a sermon that bordered on answering "who sinned so that this man would be blind?" (but in regard to the current drought). But that pastor, too, apparently disregarded the possibility of tumultuous theology and plunged forward in the Scriptures, speaking truth not by staying on the fence but by disregarding it and passing through.
I won't even connect this here to issues of identity with rural, pastoral, traditional African on one side and American, British, urban, and technological on the other. That's one road many travel here, but starting from different places and going different directions. I cannot predict how that landscape is shifting. I will say that I once heard of a theologian (I don't remember which one, I think it was an early 20th-century person) soaring over the conflict of others with sound, scriptural truths. It would uphold Jacob's Bethel utterance if the God who is surely in Mombasa, Nairobi, and Meru is in Calvin and Arminius, Osteen and St Francis, and split Presbyterians.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Buckets
Perhaps it has rained buckets since my last post for some of you. We haven't seen much rain, but buckets are plentiful and multifunctional. The one day it rained (of many--el nino is expected), it was heavy for a couple hours as we ate our pizza this past Saturday. It was just a bit of pizza after we had cooked ourselves silly in the afternoon with Kiswahili practice galore. Our progress has been off and on, with six hour-and-a-half lessons spread out over the past two weeks, with various opportunities to talk scattered throughout.
Thursday past we talked with a wonderful professor from the university of Nairobi about early humans in the Rift Valley. He gave us a useful overview of general ethnic distributions with their corresponding expansions. I was surprised at the number of non-Bantu-speaking tribes there are. Nilotic was a language group I had quite forgotten, and some of the Kushitic-speaking residents of northeast Kenya are likely to have been here as long as there have been people there. From the second archaeological site we went to (in Nakuru--where we saw flamingos pinking up most of a lake and zebras, gazelles, and baboons on the side of the road), we went to a magnificent bowl. It was the crater of an active volcano, with a few vents steaming. You need to see it, but I forgot my camera--image searches on Menengai should find you pictures almost as good as ones I could've taken (or check out my friend Whitney's blog, whitneyinthemotherland.weebly.com. The clouds were thick in some places, with Lion-King-esque beams escaping from thunderheads as the sun sank low to its late afternoon angle. From our perch on the rim, the bowl streched out to our left, and on our right was (at a bit higher than the center of the crater) developed land. These people living near the volcano were not quite as risky as the scrubby plants that popped up all over the crater's black floor. Our professor, who had been to the inside to make geological observations (paleo-anthropologists seem to be well-versed in many disciplines), told us that warthogs and snakes live there, too--animals who rarely drink water.
Our clothes were still wet--jeans still dripping--after a night hanging on the line. The buckets we used for washing and rinsing last night greeted me after I woke this morning and stepped into the tiled entryway that had seen us attempt to clean our clothes. We checked for buckets this morning at Phyllis's house--we will need them as we travel Thursday. When we want a hot shower, hot water must go in the bucket with a sponge. Here, luxury is an electric hot water plate attached to your showerhead. That was how I showered at my host family--it was just a day without water, and I needed my shower. I will be well acquainted with buckets by the end of this year.
We roll out Thursday for placements. We're taking a day longer than expected as we work to ensure our schools we don't come with a bonus gift of H1N1.
Peace of Christ be with you.
Thursday past we talked with a wonderful professor from the university of Nairobi about early humans in the Rift Valley. He gave us a useful overview of general ethnic distributions with their corresponding expansions. I was surprised at the number of non-Bantu-speaking tribes there are. Nilotic was a language group I had quite forgotten, and some of the Kushitic-speaking residents of northeast Kenya are likely to have been here as long as there have been people there. From the second archaeological site we went to (in Nakuru--where we saw flamingos pinking up most of a lake and zebras, gazelles, and baboons on the side of the road), we went to a magnificent bowl. It was the crater of an active volcano, with a few vents steaming. You need to see it, but I forgot my camera--image searches on Menengai should find you pictures almost as good as ones I could've taken (or check out my friend Whitney's blog, whitneyinthemotherland.weebly.com. The clouds were thick in some places, with Lion-King-esque beams escaping from thunderheads as the sun sank low to its late afternoon angle. From our perch on the rim, the bowl streched out to our left, and on our right was (at a bit higher than the center of the crater) developed land. These people living near the volcano were not quite as risky as the scrubby plants that popped up all over the crater's black floor. Our professor, who had been to the inside to make geological observations (paleo-anthropologists seem to be well-versed in many disciplines), told us that warthogs and snakes live there, too--animals who rarely drink water.
Our clothes were still wet--jeans still dripping--after a night hanging on the line. The buckets we used for washing and rinsing last night greeted me after I woke this morning and stepped into the tiled entryway that had seen us attempt to clean our clothes. We checked for buckets this morning at Phyllis's house--we will need them as we travel Thursday. When we want a hot shower, hot water must go in the bucket with a sponge. Here, luxury is an electric hot water plate attached to your showerhead. That was how I showered at my host family--it was just a day without water, and I needed my shower. I will be well acquainted with buckets by the end of this year.
We roll out Thursday for placements. We're taking a day longer than expected as we work to ensure our schools we don't come with a bonus gift of H1N1.
Peace of Christ be with you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
