After months of drought, it’s finally raining here in Kenya! While it will take much more rain to restock what has been lost, there is hope now that the rains have begun. In tropical regions near the equator like Kenya, there are no seasons save for the rainy and dry seasons. For people to have water all year round, there needs to be adequate storage facilities for the water.
To give you an idea of the disparity in storage: Kenya has about 3 cubic meters of storage space for water per person, while the US has about 7,000 cubic meters per person (Source: KTN, Local News). If people do not have such basic access to water year-round, any development project will be drastically hindered.
Unfortunately, this is only half the story. Many storage tanks have been built, and many have fallen into disrepair, too. Primarily this is due to lack of ownership by anyone to maintain the facilities. Oftentimes, a development agency will come in and build a storage facility and then move on. The community does not assume ownership, and so no one takes responsibility for maintenance.
Church World Service not only builds the hard but also the soft structures of development, training committees elected by the community to manage their water resources. Hopefully this training and sense of ownership will provide a sustainable method, leaving the community in charge and empowered to move forward.
Tuesday, February 28
Monday, February 27
Meeting Moi
I approached the dessert table, lined with all kinds of delectable pastries and fresh fruit. I found a rather slender gal obstructing my prey, managing two plates in one hand as she tried to douse her captured booty in brandy sauce. I couldn’t help but chide her, saying, “Hey, that’s not allowed– unless one of those is for me.” She tried to give me some lame excuse that it was for someone else, but I wasn’t fooled.
We carried on a light chit-chat as we returned to her table, where –after a slight pause– she asked, “So, are you here by yourself?” Eyebrows raised as if she had suddenly asked me about my mother, I thought maybe the kanga (a skirt-like wrap) I was wearing was giving the wrong impression. “What I mean is, would you care to join us?” Silence suddenly seized her table of eight, as all eyes fell on me. To these unfamiliar faces I replied, “Well, um, actually I’m with those people over there, but I would love to sit with y’all if that’s all right.”
So began a long evening of conversation, laughter and good food with newfound friends. They were a group from North Avenue Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, GA, making a visit to Kenya to build a theological, spiritual and accreditation partnership with Thegoto Seminary in Kikuyu. We carried on our own private conversations, and those around me found my work as a volunteer with Church World Service very interesting. It was like in the movies when the main character stumbles into a dinner party of beautiful people and is dumbfounded by the warm greeting and intense interest these people have in him.
But the main event was still to come. The leader of the group, Rev. Scott Weimer, interrupted my conversation with two ladies about my age discussing things Kenyan, to invite me to a meeting the next morning. Before I could respond, he told me with who they would be meeting: Former Kenyan President Moi. I was flabbergasted, my mouth opening and closing like I was fish breathing underwater. He said that due to security reasons, I probably shouldn’t mention this to anyone else and he looked forward to seeing me at six the next morning.
Mumbling words of thanks and acceptance, I set out to find a shirt and tie for such an occasion. I asked Peter, the sole remaining member of our group, what his wardrobe was looking like on his last night in Kenya. After describing what I need without explaining what is was for, he said he had the perfect thing. A little while later he returned with what he described as a “cowboy” shirt: a pink, blue and green flannel shirt. Surprised once again with the evening’s unfolding of events, I exclaimed, “Oh, Moi would love this!” “What?” I said, “Oh boy, I’d love to wear this!”
I borrowed a disposable razor from another member, Kathy, to shave my haggard beard, only to have the blade break off after tapping it in the sink. Undeterred, I grabbed the blade and shaved man-ually, with two hands stroking my face, positioned as if I were putting on a band-aid. I fell into restless sleep, finally getting up to fumble around in the dark, wake up my driver Andrew sleeping in the bed next to me, and stumble out the door with my luggage.
I joined my newfound friends in a van and we were off. We went outside of town to a military barracks of some sort, walking through the gate, onto a neatly trimmed lan in the middle of a cul-de-sac, and shaking hands with a lone mzee (elderly man) before making our way to a plush living room that had obviously never been lived in [gasp]. I think half of our group didn’t realize who had just greeted us, and maybe more didn’t realize how unique this opportunity was. I whispered to Katherine next to me, “That was Moi!”
I thought that might have been it, but after being served tea and waiting half an hour or so, Moi entered and we rose. With all of us seated back down, he apologized for delaying our precious time. He had unexpected visitors from southern Sudan, where he has played an integral role through the Moi Institute in brokering peace there after more than 20 years of war. After general introductions, we seemed to have no other purpose than to greet him and pray for him and the country. He said he would appreciate prayers for the youth, specifically with respect to the responsible use of freedoms and having an informed view of the world. Others also offered their prayers and praises for the church in Kenya, the economy, the warm joy in the people they’d been meeting, and continued partnership between our two countries.
Then we prayed. I secretly wanted to take a photo of this formidable man praying, a man whose reign in power was controversial to say the least. I instead stole a glance: his head bowed, Moi rested his elbows on his knees, solemnly laying his hands on the low coffee table as if he were praying over it. Afterwards we had a photo shoot, and I felt incredibly awesome in my cowboy shirt and hiking boots among so many black jackets and polished shoes. The photo below is courtesy of Katherine, whose chance encounter led to me shaking hands with Moi.
Thank you, Katherine, Scott, Moi, and you, God. Occasionally our God emerges to orchestrate a symphony out of the usual cacophony. May God work wonders in your life, too, focusing your ears on awe-inspiring symphonies of small delight, immense wonder… and chance encounter.
We carried on a light chit-chat as we returned to her table, where –after a slight pause– she asked, “So, are you here by yourself?” Eyebrows raised as if she had suddenly asked me about my mother, I thought maybe the kanga (a skirt-like wrap) I was wearing was giving the wrong impression. “What I mean is, would you care to join us?” Silence suddenly seized her table of eight, as all eyes fell on me. To these unfamiliar faces I replied, “Well, um, actually I’m with those people over there, but I would love to sit with y’all if that’s all right.”
So began a long evening of conversation, laughter and good food with newfound friends. They were a group from North Avenue Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, GA, making a visit to Kenya to build a theological, spiritual and accreditation partnership with Thegoto Seminary in Kikuyu. We carried on our own private conversations, and those around me found my work as a volunteer with Church World Service very interesting. It was like in the movies when the main character stumbles into a dinner party of beautiful people and is dumbfounded by the warm greeting and intense interest these people have in him.
But the main event was still to come. The leader of the group, Rev. Scott Weimer, interrupted my conversation with two ladies about my age discussing things Kenyan, to invite me to a meeting the next morning. Before I could respond, he told me with who they would be meeting: Former Kenyan President Moi. I was flabbergasted, my mouth opening and closing like I was fish breathing underwater. He said that due to security reasons, I probably shouldn’t mention this to anyone else and he looked forward to seeing me at six the next morning.
Mumbling words of thanks and acceptance, I set out to find a shirt and tie for such an occasion. I asked Peter, the sole remaining member of our group, what his wardrobe was looking like on his last night in Kenya. After describing what I need without explaining what is was for, he said he had the perfect thing. A little while later he returned with what he described as a “cowboy” shirt: a pink, blue and green flannel shirt. Surprised once again with the evening’s unfolding of events, I exclaimed, “Oh, Moi would love this!” “What?” I said, “Oh boy, I’d love to wear this!”
I borrowed a disposable razor from another member, Kathy, to shave my haggard beard, only to have the blade break off after tapping it in the sink. Undeterred, I grabbed the blade and shaved man-ually, with two hands stroking my face, positioned as if I were putting on a band-aid. I fell into restless sleep, finally getting up to fumble around in the dark, wake up my driver Andrew sleeping in the bed next to me, and stumble out the door with my luggage.
I joined my newfound friends in a van and we were off. We went outside of town to a military barracks of some sort, walking through the gate, onto a neatly trimmed lan in the middle of a cul-de-sac, and shaking hands with a lone mzee (elderly man) before making our way to a plush living room that had obviously never been lived in [gasp]. I think half of our group didn’t realize who had just greeted us, and maybe more didn’t realize how unique this opportunity was. I whispered to Katherine next to me, “That was Moi!”
I thought that might have been it, but after being served tea and waiting half an hour or so, Moi entered and we rose. With all of us seated back down, he apologized for delaying our precious time. He had unexpected visitors from southern Sudan, where he has played an integral role through the Moi Institute in brokering peace there after more than 20 years of war. After general introductions, we seemed to have no other purpose than to greet him and pray for him and the country. He said he would appreciate prayers for the youth, specifically with respect to the responsible use of freedoms and having an informed view of the world. Others also offered their prayers and praises for the church in Kenya, the economy, the warm joy in the people they’d been meeting, and continued partnership between our two countries.
Then we prayed. I secretly wanted to take a photo of this formidable man praying, a man whose reign in power was controversial to say the least. I instead stole a glance: his head bowed, Moi rested his elbows on his knees, solemnly laying his hands on the low coffee table as if he were praying over it. Afterwards we had a photo shoot, and I felt incredibly awesome in my cowboy shirt and hiking boots among so many black jackets and polished shoes. The photo below is courtesy of Katherine, whose chance encounter led to me shaking hands with Moi.
Thank you, Katherine, Scott, Moi, and you, God. Occasionally our God emerges to orchestrate a symphony out of the usual cacophony. May God work wonders in your life, too, focusing your ears on awe-inspiring symphonies of small delight, immense wonder… and chance encounter.
Sunday, February 19
Crescent Island
Yesterday I traveled with three other volunteers (Andrea, Gretchen & Will) to Lake Naivasha to walk among giraffe, wilderbeast, zebra and sheep on Crescent Island. Lake Naivasha, Maasai for "Rippling Water" due to the heat or simply "The Lake", has been severely depleted by the flower farms surrounding the lake. As a result, the island is now a peninsula, yet still retains its pristine aura with limited access.
People are allowed to walk with the animals since all were introduced during the filming of Out of Africa. We even saw the remnants of a set where they had constructed a house for the movie. Today the island remains undeveloped, home to several Maasai giraffe, heards of zebra, wilderbeast and sheep, and even some horses are released to graze among the wild animals. We were lucky enough to also see a small family of hippo, although no males since the mothers had taken the babies away for four months because the daddies tend to be overly aggressive towards the young. During the rainy season there are huge pythons, the only predator on the island. I hope to return and see one "in action."
We had also hoped to go mountain biking and rock climbing in Hell's Gate, described in the guidebook as Kenya's mini-Grand Canyon, but we ran out of time due to the poor condition of the roads. Instead, we had lunch at Naivasha Country Club, where I played frisbee with Will on the most beautiful grass I've seen in Kenya. I'm beginning to wonder if there's an ultimate frisbee team in Nairobi, or maybe I can start one... I continue to dream of bringing Frisbee to this continent.
Gretchen and I have already planned to return soon on a coming weekend, as we both have a keen interest in rock climbing and mountain biking; an adventure forthcoming...
Will gives the thumbs up
A la Jurassic Park
That's right- you know you want me
Wilderbeasts: The Bearded Antelope
"Don't bother looking, Earl- it's just those tourists again"
Click here to view more Crescent Island photos on snapfish.com. I apologize for redirecting you to another site, but I'm getting plain tired of Blogger's inconsistent postings for pictures.
People are allowed to walk with the animals since all were introduced during the filming of Out of Africa. We even saw the remnants of a set where they had constructed a house for the movie. Today the island remains undeveloped, home to several Maasai giraffe, heards of zebra, wilderbeast and sheep, and even some horses are released to graze among the wild animals. We were lucky enough to also see a small family of hippo, although no males since the mothers had taken the babies away for four months because the daddies tend to be overly aggressive towards the young. During the rainy season there are huge pythons, the only predator on the island. I hope to return and see one "in action."
We had also hoped to go mountain biking and rock climbing in Hell's Gate, described in the guidebook as Kenya's mini-Grand Canyon, but we ran out of time due to the poor condition of the roads. Instead, we had lunch at Naivasha Country Club, where I played frisbee with Will on the most beautiful grass I've seen in Kenya. I'm beginning to wonder if there's an ultimate frisbee team in Nairobi, or maybe I can start one... I continue to dream of bringing Frisbee to this continent.
Gretchen and I have already planned to return soon on a coming weekend, as we both have a keen interest in rock climbing and mountain biking; an adventure forthcoming...
Click here to view more Crescent Island photos on snapfish.com. I apologize for redirecting you to another site, but I'm getting plain tired of Blogger's inconsistent postings for pictures.
Saturday, February 18
Dealing with Loneliness
“The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he doesn't exist.”
~ from The Usual Suspects
Halfway through my time here and I’m sliding into the mid-year slump, where I am tired of living here in my place of service, yet I’m not ready to return to the States, either. I feel caught between two worlds, in a place without residence, without rest. Loneliness creeps in like invisible smog, even as I open the windows to breathe some fresh air. I want to feel alive, yet instead I'm gasping for air, being smothered in the deadness of being alone. The resulting bitterness isolates me from others, as I believe the lie that I am the only one feeling alone in this world.
Here are some things I’ve done to try to bring some fresh air to the loneliness I sometimes feel. Not all of them I recommend. Sometimes I think we fail to confront our loneliness, and it becomes a cancer that eats us alive, inside-out. After reading this, I encourage you to ask yourself: “How do I deal with feelings of loneliness,” and “What do I do when I feel lonely?”
- Exercise. You run outside, away from the suffocating solitude and towards places where people are interacting. You lift weights, do push-ups and jump rope, all to feel powerful, to feel alive, to feel that you can make an impact… that you matter.
- Clean. You clean your room, the kitchen, the house. You clean your body by shaving, showering, shampooing… for the second time today. You feel dirty as if you were responsible for your loneliness, and you pursue your innocence as you want wash yourself clean.
- Write. You write down your thoughts, journaling through your frustrations, fears and confessions. You write to friends, not about your loneliness but just how you’re doing, in hopes of that by hearing from them you’ll feel some connection, some taste of the friendship.
- Read. You read about impersonal things, like the news. You read critical things, feeling a part of a group as you agree or disagree with the author’s opinion. You read novels, romances, fantasies, reveling in a character to whom you relate. You read past letters from friends, family and your girlfriend, finding some solace in the words of those people so close to you… yet so far.
- Watch. You watch the news to feel connected to the outside world. You watch movies to imagine yourself triumphing over all odds… or simply living a seemingly normal, depressed life wherever everything turns out OK in the end. You watch people from a distance, wondering what they are thinking and if they feel as you do.
- Play. You play guitar, creating something pleasing to your ear, or play music, vicariously living through other people’s creativity and feeling the pulsing life-force in your veins. You play solitaire, juggle or improve on some useless skill, imagining the ways you can show off- if and when someone looks your way.
- Eat. You feed the insatiable emptiness within with something you created or put together, only to realize a it’s a hunger you can’t satisfy by yourself. You give to yourself what you can, even overstuffing yourself, when what you really want can’t be seen and can only be given by others.
- Work. You go to the office on a Sunday afternoon to finish business that could wait until Monday morning. You fix something or look for simple tasks that you can check off a list, making yourself feel productive and hoping to be noticed.
- Pray. You cry out to God in your loneliness, feeling guilty for just now calling out in your time of need. You confess the selfishness of feeling lonely, of focusing on your own needs and wants and not of others. You dread the silence, the reminder of your isolation from the world flows all around and you remain unmoved.
Probably the hardest thing about loneliness is simply being still. Loneliness is social death, an undesirable condition that’s not so terrible when we realize it’s not permanent. We strive for connection, doing anything, everything to distract our mind from the heart of the issue: we are alone in this world.
Yet thinking, feeling, and praying through this notion, I realize that like all lies, this is only half true. As soon as we think we are alone, we have only to look to the One who is always there to pull us from the pit; to resurrect us. We are not alone, for God is with us wherever we are, however we’re feeling. I am overcome with comfort and surpassing rest when I know in my gut that God is with me; not because I’m pathetic or need attention or am feeling down, but simply because I am the beloved. God enjoys being around me, and together we enjoy ourselves and others, as I’m feeling into the Loving Presence.
You are not alone. You were created and are loved by God, always and forevermore.
“We love because God first loved us.”
~ 1 John 4:19
Now go, love and create.
~ from The Usual Suspects
Halfway through my time here and I’m sliding into the mid-year slump, where I am tired of living here in my place of service, yet I’m not ready to return to the States, either. I feel caught between two worlds, in a place without residence, without rest. Loneliness creeps in like invisible smog, even as I open the windows to breathe some fresh air. I want to feel alive, yet instead I'm gasping for air, being smothered in the deadness of being alone. The resulting bitterness isolates me from others, as I believe the lie that I am the only one feeling alone in this world.
Here are some things I’ve done to try to bring some fresh air to the loneliness I sometimes feel. Not all of them I recommend. Sometimes I think we fail to confront our loneliness, and it becomes a cancer that eats us alive, inside-out. After reading this, I encourage you to ask yourself: “How do I deal with feelings of loneliness,” and “What do I do when I feel lonely?”
- Exercise. You run outside, away from the suffocating solitude and towards places where people are interacting. You lift weights, do push-ups and jump rope, all to feel powerful, to feel alive, to feel that you can make an impact… that you matter.
- Clean. You clean your room, the kitchen, the house. You clean your body by shaving, showering, shampooing… for the second time today. You feel dirty as if you were responsible for your loneliness, and you pursue your innocence as you want wash yourself clean.
- Write. You write down your thoughts, journaling through your frustrations, fears and confessions. You write to friends, not about your loneliness but just how you’re doing, in hopes of that by hearing from them you’ll feel some connection, some taste of the friendship.
- Read. You read about impersonal things, like the news. You read critical things, feeling a part of a group as you agree or disagree with the author’s opinion. You read novels, romances, fantasies, reveling in a character to whom you relate. You read past letters from friends, family and your girlfriend, finding some solace in the words of those people so close to you… yet so far.
- Watch. You watch the news to feel connected to the outside world. You watch movies to imagine yourself triumphing over all odds… or simply living a seemingly normal, depressed life wherever everything turns out OK in the end. You watch people from a distance, wondering what they are thinking and if they feel as you do.
- Play. You play guitar, creating something pleasing to your ear, or play music, vicariously living through other people’s creativity and feeling the pulsing life-force in your veins. You play solitaire, juggle or improve on some useless skill, imagining the ways you can show off- if and when someone looks your way.
- Eat. You feed the insatiable emptiness within with something you created or put together, only to realize a it’s a hunger you can’t satisfy by yourself. You give to yourself what you can, even overstuffing yourself, when what you really want can’t be seen and can only be given by others.
- Work. You go to the office on a Sunday afternoon to finish business that could wait until Monday morning. You fix something or look for simple tasks that you can check off a list, making yourself feel productive and hoping to be noticed.
- Pray. You cry out to God in your loneliness, feeling guilty for just now calling out in your time of need. You confess the selfishness of feeling lonely, of focusing on your own needs and wants and not of others. You dread the silence, the reminder of your isolation from the world flows all around and you remain unmoved.
Probably the hardest thing about loneliness is simply being still. Loneliness is social death, an undesirable condition that’s not so terrible when we realize it’s not permanent. We strive for connection, doing anything, everything to distract our mind from the heart of the issue: we are alone in this world.
Yet thinking, feeling, and praying through this notion, I realize that like all lies, this is only half true. As soon as we think we are alone, we have only to look to the One who is always there to pull us from the pit; to resurrect us. We are not alone, for God is with us wherever we are, however we’re feeling. I am overcome with comfort and surpassing rest when I know in my gut that God is with me; not because I’m pathetic or need attention or am feeling down, but simply because I am the beloved. God enjoys being around me, and together we enjoy ourselves and others, as I’m feeling into the Loving Presence.
You are not alone. You were created and are loved by God, always and forevermore.
“We love because God first loved us.”
~ 1 John 4:19
Now go, love and create.
Thursday, February 16
Cartoon Rioting
The cartoon rioting has hit Nairobi. Last Friday, a group of Muslims paraded from downtown up to my section of town, Westlands. They wanted to protest in front of the Danish Embassy, but the police would not let them. Apparently they began "rioting" and one of them was shot. This happened within a mile of my office, yet I never heard anything until after the fact and never felt my life was in danger.
Still, I can't help but wonder what the fuss is all about with these Danish cartoons. No, I'm not a Muslim, but I wonder if we Christians would have reacted similarly. After reading James Carroll's article in the Boston Globe, I realize there is no comparison. The insult of these cartoons is more than just Christian v. Muslim, West v. the Arab World; it is the dominating power taking yet another pot-shot at a religion and culture that has been downtrodden for the last 1,000 years.
Carroll's closing words:
"Why are we killing them? As with multiple problems today, this one comes back to the misbegotten American war. It threatens to ignite the century, and must be stopped."
The American invasion of Iraq, a Western solution to an Arab problem, and the Danish cartoons, a Western insult to a less-powerful Arab culture, are linked by a string of oppressions running back to the Crusades. Yet the Arabs have responded with suicide/homicide bombing and terrorism, the only way they know how to fight a much more powerful foe. Does oppression justify violence? No. Yet understanding another's history creates a deeper connection to "the other," and the possibility for transforming the conflict into peaceful resolution. I encourage all of us to think and pray through these issues, as we risk stepping out to the other side.
Click here to read this excellent op-ed in full.
Still, I can't help but wonder what the fuss is all about with these Danish cartoons. No, I'm not a Muslim, but I wonder if we Christians would have reacted similarly. After reading James Carroll's article in the Boston Globe, I realize there is no comparison. The insult of these cartoons is more than just Christian v. Muslim, West v. the Arab World; it is the dominating power taking yet another pot-shot at a religion and culture that has been downtrodden for the last 1,000 years.
Carroll's closing words:
"Why are we killing them? As with multiple problems today, this one comes back to the misbegotten American war. It threatens to ignite the century, and must be stopped."
The American invasion of Iraq, a Western solution to an Arab problem, and the Danish cartoons, a Western insult to a less-powerful Arab culture, are linked by a string of oppressions running back to the Crusades. Yet the Arabs have responded with suicide/homicide bombing and terrorism, the only way they know how to fight a much more powerful foe. Does oppression justify violence? No. Yet understanding another's history creates a deeper connection to "the other," and the possibility for transforming the conflict into peaceful resolution. I encourage all of us to think and pray through these issues, as we risk stepping out to the other side.
Click here to read this excellent op-ed in full.
Wednesday, February 15
The Drought's Carnage
Cattle carcasses litter the ground around two community workers.
Kenyan continues to go without a drop of water. The government has bought a few cattle from the vast herds who await the same fate as these in the picture above. Yet even as the Kenyan government seeks aid for drought relief, the government is plagued by corruption scandals leading all the way up to the Vice President. Any sort of aid, for drought or development, will likely be withheld until decisive action is taken to investigate these allegations. Church World Service will soon be receiving and implementing (through our partners) a relief fund from ACT (Action by Churches Together) in Geneva. However, our project was supposed to fill-in the gaps of the government's.
Meanwhile, our apartment is without running water now for over a week; a convenience withheld rather than a livelihood destroyed. I request that today you think about all the ways you use water, and what you would do if there wasn't any.
Saturday, February 11
Chogoria Waterfall
Until today, I'd been in Kenya for nearly half a year and still had yet to see a waterfall. As hard as that is to believe, I got my wish today. My friend, Nightingale, and I headed up to a town called Chogoria at the base of Mt. Kenya, Kenya's highest mountain (Kilimanjaro's peak is actually in Tanzania). We walked through beautiful greenery and some picturesque farms before finally arriving at our destination: a tumbling, 100-ft plus cascade of moving white silk. I had a wonderful time admiring the overlook, exploring a cave beneath the waterfall, and then climbing around on the rocks. The pain in my shoulders and legs reminds me that today was a very good day indeed.
Wednesday, February 8
Uganda Pics: FDNC
On the otherside of Mt. Elgon, on the border of Kenya and Uganda, is a town called Mbale. It is there where I spent my short time in Uganda (two nights). Our partner organization, FDNC (Foundation for Development of Needy Communities) is doing some wonderful work there. They focus in three broad areas: community-based health care in 32 local villages, vocational training in things from computing to carpentry, and income-generating activities like goat-rearing and brick manufacturing. They received a generous grant from the Japanese Government to expand their training center, which is a huge resource for teaching and training. They focus especially on the girl-child, many of whom are the head of household as their parents have succumbed to AIDS. I could go on and write more, but I haven’t the time and will anyway as I put together our 2005 Newsletter- due Friday! To find out more, visit their website: www.fdncuganda.org.
A Gift
A Home
A School
A Meal
A Future
Click here for more pictures from my trip to Uganda.
Click here for more pictures from my trip to Uganda.
Tuesday, February 7
ABC's of AIDS: An American Concept?
Uganda is one of three East African nations to reduce its HIV prevalence rate. Many attribute the success to its influential ABC campaign: Abstain, Be Faithful or Use a Condom. After the nation received international acclaim for its rate reduction, its churches are no longer remaining silent on the issue. They have joined the campaign yet refuse to advocate the use of condoms, instead preferring the A&B method.
Many debate the issue of condom use and whether or not it promotes promiscuity. While not a foolproof method, using a condom properly does significantly reduce one’s risk to exposure, as reported on all AIDS awareness ads (or adverts as they call them here). However, many of the billboards and other awareness posters no longer mention condoms, instead focusing on abstinence and faithfulness. Some think the churches are to blame for this; others believe it has to do with USAID AIDS funding from the US and the Bush Administration restrictions on foreign assistance.
The jury’s still out on how much proper condom use has reduced those being infected with HIV/AIDS. One middle-aged Ugandan said that some prostitutes in Kampala have resisted infection by insisting their clientele use condoms. He also said in his Islamic high school his teacher condemned condoms as an American tactic to kill off its enemies, particularly Africans. Apparently, condoms are widely viewed as an American concept, and many Ugandans have not taken responsible ownership in use.
A Chinese company has just introduced condom vending machines in the capital city, noting public policy in many developing nations promotes if not requires by law these contraceptives be readily available in public venues. Although the company has the condolences of the Health Minister, they have yet to find any council or corporation to buy the machines.
Says one Ugandan: “It’s hard for me to believe that the youth will listen to the simple message of ‘abstinence’ and ‘faithfulness’ when we are being punished by a government who isn’t faithful to its people,” referring to corruption in his country.
Many debate the issue of condom use and whether or not it promotes promiscuity. While not a foolproof method, using a condom properly does significantly reduce one’s risk to exposure, as reported on all AIDS awareness ads (or adverts as they call them here). However, many of the billboards and other awareness posters no longer mention condoms, instead focusing on abstinence and faithfulness. Some think the churches are to blame for this; others believe it has to do with USAID AIDS funding from the US and the Bush Administration restrictions on foreign assistance.
The jury’s still out on how much proper condom use has reduced those being infected with HIV/AIDS. One middle-aged Ugandan said that some prostitutes in Kampala have resisted infection by insisting their clientele use condoms. He also said in his Islamic high school his teacher condemned condoms as an American tactic to kill off its enemies, particularly Africans. Apparently, condoms are widely viewed as an American concept, and many Ugandans have not taken responsible ownership in use.
A Chinese company has just introduced condom vending machines in the capital city, noting public policy in many developing nations promotes if not requires by law these contraceptives be readily available in public venues. Although the company has the condolences of the Health Minister, they have yet to find any council or corporation to buy the machines.
Says one Ugandan: “It’s hard for me to believe that the youth will listen to the simple message of ‘abstinence’ and ‘faithfulness’ when we are being punished by a government who isn’t faithful to its people,” referring to corruption in his country.
Monday, February 6
"Not by Guns or by Cheating, but by Prayer"
Uganda faces national elections in two weeks on February 23rd. An Ugandan joked that the European Union envied Africa since beating incumbent here isn’t a real option, saying he heard it on the BBC. The same could be said for the House, but I didn’t try to explain that to him. The political opponents here, however, are accused of treason, fraud and rape, spending most of their valuable campaigning time in jail or court facing the (perceived-to-be) trumped-up charges.
Around election time everything shuts down and people stop working because there’s no money in the system. The estimated US$ 20M being spent by Museveni, the current president, mostly goes to improved roads for the campaign and food for the voters. One unofficial slogan of the campaign is “eat widely, vote wisely.” All other sectors of the economy shut down as the nation prepares to weather another political storm with an inevitable outcome. Even Museveni himself said, “My opponent can’t win,” referring to Besigye, his former VP-turned-major-political-adversary (as I understand it).
We passed by a local store with a yellow poster on it, the color symbolizing the president and his reigning government. The other posters of pink and red were of his opponents. We’d been driving along a narrow dirt path used 360 days a year for walking, crushing the tall grass on either side, when we came across a small passenger car with a yellow sign on the side. A colleague informed me that it was the local MP, campaigning for the president. The driver wore a bright yellow hat with the black and red Ugandan flag on it, looking strangely familiar to ones I’ve seen at Goodwill.
Uganda is not an oppressive place. The telecommunications here are much better and cheaper than in Kenya, the roads seem to be well maintained and areas considered “dry” and without rain for months are still green, as opposed to some areas of Kenya that are “dry” after years without rain and are brown and dusty. The people can always hope for better, less self-interested leadership, but the likelihood is slim with the corruption and strong and loyal military. The few people I spoke to about politics were very careful with their words, as if someone might be listening to them that might report any criticism of the government they might say.
As one person said, the coming election won’t be won “by guns or by cheating, but by prayer.” Hope still lies in resolute faith, and I can only join their prayer for improved governance to see how God is moving this country.
Around election time everything shuts down and people stop working because there’s no money in the system. The estimated US$ 20M being spent by Museveni, the current president, mostly goes to improved roads for the campaign and food for the voters. One unofficial slogan of the campaign is “eat widely, vote wisely.” All other sectors of the economy shut down as the nation prepares to weather another political storm with an inevitable outcome. Even Museveni himself said, “My opponent can’t win,” referring to Besigye, his former VP-turned-major-political-adversary (as I understand it).
We passed by a local store with a yellow poster on it, the color symbolizing the president and his reigning government. The other posters of pink and red were of his opponents. We’d been driving along a narrow dirt path used 360 days a year for walking, crushing the tall grass on either side, when we came across a small passenger car with a yellow sign on the side. A colleague informed me that it was the local MP, campaigning for the president. The driver wore a bright yellow hat with the black and red Ugandan flag on it, looking strangely familiar to ones I’ve seen at Goodwill.
Uganda is not an oppressive place. The telecommunications here are much better and cheaper than in Kenya, the roads seem to be well maintained and areas considered “dry” and without rain for months are still green, as opposed to some areas of Kenya that are “dry” after years without rain and are brown and dusty. The people can always hope for better, less self-interested leadership, but the likelihood is slim with the corruption and strong and loyal military. The few people I spoke to about politics were very careful with their words, as if someone might be listening to them that might report any criticism of the government they might say.
As one person said, the coming election won’t be won “by guns or by cheating, but by prayer.” Hope still lies in resolute faith, and I can only join their prayer for improved governance to see how God is moving this country.
Sunday, February 5
Border Crossings
I knew we were approaching the Ugandan border when I began to see a long line of stopped trucks. As a private car we simply bypassed all of these semis, reaching the border after another mile or so. There we filled out exit papers for Kenya before actually crossing a bridge with one guard to fill out entry papers for Uganda. Apparently truckers wait for at least two days to get through. All of the trucks were on the Kenyan side heading inland to Uganda, Sudan, Rwanda, DRC, etc., many of them relief aid for humanitarian and natural disasters. The process of crossing took us about 2 hours; amusing once and yet entirely frustrating when I think of all the goods being delayed for paperwork… and the security they’re trying to provide, I suppose.
Inside the Ugandan Immigration Office, a sign read something like, “Attention all customers, we have recently upgraded to a computerized system. Please forgive the delay this may cause.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of that statement.
I must brag: I have yet to meet a Kenyan with faster typing skills than my own (roughly 65 or so words a minute). And I must admit: I’ve been incredibly advantaged to grow up around computers. The vast majority of Kenyans won’t ever touch a computer unless they go to a high school or college that provides a lab. Cyber cafés are everywhere but only the few who can afford them use them. Even then their exposure is quite limited, and the discomfort from lack of continual contact readily shows. Yet because they speak English and literacy rates are fairly good, a vast world of information and opportunity lies at their fingertips: they just need the keys to unlock it.
This is why I’m going to launch the Fingertip Dream Initiative in March of this year. [Ahem, I just read the State of the Union and couldn’t resist.] Actually, I’m formulating a plan to teach computing classes at a local cyber café. It is my humble hope that I will reach people of all ages in whatever computing skills they’d like to learn. I’m still working out the details, like how to make the classes available to everyone (both time- and cost-wise) and how I can fit this into my schedule of traveling and report writing. Still, I feel this is one way I can give back to the community at large and I’ve been yearning to “volunteer” my time (on top of my volunteer internship, I realize).
I’ve also been flirting with the idea of getting involved with the local youth, and yet I know from my past experience it’s better to be all-in or all-out when it comes to youth ministry: consistency pays. So as I’m praying through these thoughts/dreams/ideas of mine, I hope they are in line with what God desires for my time here. While there isn’t one right path that is closest to God, there are certainly treacherous roads I’d like to avoid. And in the process, I hope to cross borders and boundaries I’d never dream of doing without the courage I have in Christ.
Inside the Ugandan Immigration Office, a sign read something like, “Attention all customers, we have recently upgraded to a computerized system. Please forgive the delay this may cause.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of that statement.
I must brag: I have yet to meet a Kenyan with faster typing skills than my own (roughly 65 or so words a minute). And I must admit: I’ve been incredibly advantaged to grow up around computers. The vast majority of Kenyans won’t ever touch a computer unless they go to a high school or college that provides a lab. Cyber cafés are everywhere but only the few who can afford them use them. Even then their exposure is quite limited, and the discomfort from lack of continual contact readily shows. Yet because they speak English and literacy rates are fairly good, a vast world of information and opportunity lies at their fingertips: they just need the keys to unlock it.
This is why I’m going to launch the Fingertip Dream Initiative in March of this year. [Ahem, I just read the State of the Union and couldn’t resist.] Actually, I’m formulating a plan to teach computing classes at a local cyber café. It is my humble hope that I will reach people of all ages in whatever computing skills they’d like to learn. I’m still working out the details, like how to make the classes available to everyone (both time- and cost-wise) and how I can fit this into my schedule of traveling and report writing. Still, I feel this is one way I can give back to the community at large and I’ve been yearning to “volunteer” my time (on top of my volunteer internship, I realize).
I’ve also been flirting with the idea of getting involved with the local youth, and yet I know from my past experience it’s better to be all-in or all-out when it comes to youth ministry: consistency pays. So as I’m praying through these thoughts/dreams/ideas of mine, I hope they are in line with what God desires for my time here. While there isn’t one right path that is closest to God, there are certainly treacherous roads I’d like to avoid. And in the process, I hope to cross borders and boundaries I’d never dream of doing without the courage I have in Christ.
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