Sunday, April 30

Immersion Experience


Our group with the KMQ community

This past weekend our group of six (minus Rachel- sad!) volunteers went to a Maasai village to build a nursery for a school. The community is called KMQ, for the Kenya Mining Quarry for marble nearby established in 1928. Migrant workers earn about $2/day for chipping away 5 tonnes of marble, and most do not last longer than 2 years. They cooked us a meal each day (see kitchen above) and had already built the 3-room structure when we arrived. All that was left for us to do is paint.


Keep up the good work, Brian!

Two long days of painting didn't keep us from joking around with each other and playing frisbee with some of the Maasai. On Sunday we hiked over 30 minutes up a hill to a church under an acacia tree. During the morning on the weekdays it doubles as a school. Laona, a Maasai women, serves as both preacher and teacher.


Saying Farewells Outside of Church.

We returned to the school grounds to a ceremony held for us by the community, complete with two slaughtered goats, lots of singing by the women and gifts of beaded jewelry for each of us. As a group, we presented stationery and pencils for the more than 600 students at KMQ Primary.


Presenting the Stationery.

Overall, I enjoyed the experience very much, although I was left wondering many things: Will nursery encourage parents to send their children to school at an early age? Will the Maasai women continually be taken out before they reach 13 to be circumcized and married off? Will the nearby marble mine continue to pollute the air and exacerbate health problems of children, even as their parents make a living from the industry?

I look forward to the day when I can return to this community and see how they are continuing on. Until then, we can all pray: for the parents to remain faithful as they find ways to pay for uniforms to send their kids to school; for the children to study hard even as they walk many kilometers to and from school each day; for the committee as they find ways to store water during the short rains in preparation for the long drought; for the Headmaster in $2,000 of debt for his degree in Early Childhood Education...

... for all those things that remind us that while we are not at the center of the world, we can play a definitive role in others' lives, and they in ours.

Saturday, April 29

Painting Practice

Will: HIGH-FIVE!



The Power of Two



It's stuck, I swear!



Yes, that's a camel in the road.

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Monday, April 24

Police Encounter

Walking home last night, I was stopped by a policeman. I rarely see police on my street, and generally feel it is a safe neighborhood. However, my neighborhood is an exception to most of Nairobi, with many people living behind high walls and guarded gates.

The policeman asked me for my identification, where I was going, what I was doing, and where I lived. He said it wasn’t safe for me to be out (it was about 8PM) since there had been a mugging recently. I explained that I lived right around the corner and the people around here knew me, but said I would take his advice.

He then asked if I could provide him with some chai. I said that, sadly, I didn’t have a cup of tea on me. He then gently pulled me aside, away from the other guards, and asked, “Not even a 100 shillings?” I apologized and said I didn’t have anything on me except two shillings. He waved me on, not wanting to press the issue and yet probably thinking it highly probable that this mzungu didn’t even have a dollar on him.

I wonder if I would have given him the bribe. After all, I am constantly asked for money as I walk along the street. This time was different only because it was a policeman. He hadn’t threatened me or abused his power; he had just asked. He has a job and therefore is more fortunate than most Kenyans, yet his pay is barely more than the night watchman: about $200 per month.

The fight against corruption continues, although success is slow. According to Transparency International, each Kenyan pays an average of 16 bribes a month, with 41% of the bribes totaling over 50,000 Kshs ($700) each. I think those statistics are exaggerated yet even if they are a little bit true it's quite astounding.

I think the practice originates in the Kenyan/African custom of always having something to give to someone as a sign of appreciation. While no excuse for corruption, culture perspective is key to at least a partial understanding of why the trend is so rampant.

Click here for more information about corruption in Kenya.

Sunday, April 23

A Growing Church

Christianity continues to spread in Kenya, and in particular, the PCEA (Presbyterian Church of East Africa) in the Maasai community. Today in my host-parent’s church, a young Maasai man Emmanuel was licensed or ordained into the PCEA. About 20 Maasai family members and friends came to this Nairobi suburban church to celebrate the successful completion of his studies.

With 43 presbyteries spanning Kenyan, Uganda and Tanzania, the PCEA is already larger than the PC(USA) with over 3 million members, and continues to grow rapidly. A few months ago I met a pastor in Nakuru who has 17 congregations, meaning they see him about 3 times a year in the pulpit.

The PCEA currently has only one accredited seminary, St. Paul's School of Theology, and works hard to train pastors in a 3-4 year degree that's roughly equivalent to a bachelor's degree in the US. I believe they graduate about 60 students each year from a consortium of denominations, including Presbyterian, Methodist and Anglican.

These ordinations refect the growing number of African Christians (some estimates as high as 23,000 PER DAY! according to the book The Next Christendom), even as mainline denominations diminish in America. The beliefs of these new converts are quite interesting, melding with the morals of conservative evangelicals in the US and the global social justice of the more liberally-minded. The result is a unique blend of Christianity that has hints of Western culture, and yet is distinctly African.

With such a shortage of preachers, more need to be trained to disciple the masses and deepen the roots of faith. So many evangelical preachers come and go. I’m thankful for the ones who stay, joining the people side-by-side, hand-in-hand, on the journey of faith.

Friday, April 21

Rising Tide and Sinking Ships

My friend Joyce and I had lunch today at the no-name Indian buffet place. As we were eating, she told me of a woman she met while awaiting my arrival. The woman begged her for money, and Joyce said she could give her money but that having a job was more sustainable.

The woman replied that she had been offered a housekeeping job for 800 shillings (about $11) a month. Her husband had just passed on and she had to pay rent of 700 shillings per month for her 7 children. She reluctantly returned to the woman to try and negotiate, only to find out that someone else had taken the job.

Such is the spiral of poverty and vast unemployment: without skills, a person is easily replaced by another. Education and training is necessary to differentiate and separate oneself from the fray. Yet oftentimes one must pay for these services, or even if they are free, one must be earning something to pay for rent… let alone school supplies and uniforms so that one’s children will have a better opportunity.

I listened as Joyce finished her story, saying goodbye to her and hello to me; turning from the one without to the one with. Perhaps like you, my heart broke within me, leaving my chest feeling hollow and my body helpless. Yet unlike you, I walked out of the restaurant and passed the very same woman. I had heard her story and yet I did nothing.

What could I have done? I’m asked every week to find someone a job. I work in a development agency that’s trying to create wealth. On a macro level, I know what needs to happen as far as investment in infrastructure, micro-financing, skills training... globally, a rising tide in my mind.

And then I look out in the neighboring bay at the sinking ships, the ones with gaping holes, incapable of repairing themselves and resources an ocean apart. As the tide rides, will all that’s left floating be yachts surrounded by flotsam and jetsam?

Those who say, “I love God,” and ignore their brothers and sisters are liars; for those who do not love a brother and sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen.” ~ 1 John 4:20

I can tell another’s story, but I cannot create one of my own.

Thursday, April 20

Magic Corn Stalks

An abbreviated story I wrote on a monitoring trip of the drought with my colleague, Sam Mutua.

Agnes Nundu watches two children, Ramon and Kasioka, play in freshly turned dirt. Both three years old, children have never seen maize growing from the ground since birth. For three years farmers in Masongaleni area in Kibwezi, in Makueni District of Kenya, have planted seed only to see the rains fail and nothing grow.

A bulldozer roars to life behind the children’s playground, moving the dusty soil to create a large earth dam. If and when the rains do come, the dam will catch over 12,000 m3 of water to be used for irrigation. Surveying the surrounding farmland, the dam’s contractor comments, “I noticed that people haven’t planted yet.”

The people have planted but the crops have failed. While much of Kenya is experiencing the rainy season, this region has only received 1 mm of rainfall. Crops will be planted again in October during the short rainy season, but farmers must wait to harvest until March of next year.

Community Resource Initiative (CRI) and Church World Service have partnered together to secure an emergency relief grant from ACT (Action by Churches Together) for this community to fund the building of the earth dam. An estimated 50 families will use the dam for irrigation.

Ten years ago, CWS successfully funded a water project implemented by CRI. Over 47 km of piping was laid and 16 water points established in the community, reducing person’s distance to fetch water from more than 20 km to less than 4 km. The water comes from Umani Water Springs in Kibwezi and is metered, meaning people have enough for domestic use but not for irrigation.

Agnes says since the dam is built and once the rains come, “We will never suffer again.” For now, the children continue playing in the dust. Little Ramon clutches a baobab fruit in his hand, filled with a powdery substance that nourishes the body while leaving the mouth dry. Hopefully before long, these children will believe the magical stories they hear of maize springing forth from the ground.

Wednesday, April 19

Cattle Raiders

The rains have come, and so have the cattle raiders.

With so many people having lost most – if not all – of their livestock, cattle raiding has become a popular way to restock. Livestock is the currency by which these people live, and stealing the preferred method.

Paul told me about his tribe the Turkanas and how they raided cattle. Much of the fighting is done at night, with the whole village “riling up” their warriors for the raid. With small arms having infiltrated the area (the US being the #1 exporter in the world), the conflicts have escalated in intensity.

What once used to be a competition and way of life is quickly turning into a bloodbath. Already 15 people have been killed. Tragically, a peace mission to one of the troubled regions ended terribly when a plane carrying all of the area’s MPs (members of parliament) crashed and killed all of them onboard.

The conflict is cross-border, involving persons in Kenya, Uganda, Sudan and Ethiopia. Most of the time men are the casualties, but recently women and children have died as well. Please be praying for this troubled region. It is so much easier to resort to survival of the fittest rather than cooperate together when resources are scare and the situation so dire.

Read more about the situation from Oxfam and the BBC.

Beyond Seminary

For those of you who sent me this article, and others who I thought might be interested in my response, I have prepared some thoughts on going to seminary.

The Masters of Divinity degree should widen the borders of faith exploration rather than dig tunnels with provincial vision, giving one the tools for further inquiry into the layers of belief as opposed to finding satisfaction on the surface to tell what lies beneath. I was told early on that seminary would utterly challenge and force me to re-evaluate my personal tenets of faith, and the notion continues to excite my hopes and fears about going deeper into the unseen.

I do not know yet how this experience will affect my future career, be it in the ministry or development, a combination thereof or something radically different. Yet I feel that seminary will help me interpret and share with others the events and people I have seen here.

Right now the challenge is to behold what is in front of me: the girl younger with me taking care of children, both of her womb and her parents; the woman selling vegetables along the street to pay for her children's school fees; the man waiting outside the tin gate each morning, hoping that today the factory will choose him for the day's labor and he can return home to feed his family; the boy without shoes walking home from school in a torn uniform to study on the dirt floor by lantern light.

What has become of God's Creation-dom? Where is the love of each other individually and as a race made in God's image? How do we rectify or make sense of the horrific images we receive with the hopeful dreams we envision?

Already I have been practically challenged with Jesus' words, "Do you now believe?" I want to add a little bit of theory to the mix, sharpening my mind and softening my heart in preparation for a world of hurt, angst and despair.

May God's grace water
the seeds of hope sown deep
within our being,
that we might
outwardly share our
divine gift of love
with others.



Have Hope. Be Brazen. Love Loudly.

Monday, April 17

Easter Weekend on Indian Coast


Two friends, Mercy, a graphic designer, and Katie, an intern with an outdoors teambuilding corporation

This weekend I went with a young adult group from my church, Nairobi Chapel, to Maweni Camp, on the south coast of Mombasa overlooking the Indian Ocean. We had a great time enjoying our long weekend away from Nairobi and getting to know each other better.

We had a great time playing games, having small group discussion, journaling, swimming, tossing the frisbee and just hanging out. The theme of the weekend was not allowing others to look down on you because of your youth, but instead be an example to others in word, conduct, faith, love and purity (1 Tim 4:12).

As I've found typical of youth ministry here, I felt we focused a lot on sexual purity. While this is an important issue, our small group also talked about other ways we can be an example not only to our agemates but those both younger and older than us.


Albo leads another game, including the one above: a relay race where you have to dangle a pen (or "pilot" as Kenyans say) into a soda bottle without using your hands.


Probably my favorite part of the weekend was just getting a chance to relax on the beach. Although I didn't sleep well at night with the heat and mosquitoes, I had plenty of time to catch up as I lounged on the beach, sometimes rousing myself to enter the rather warm waters of the Indian Ocean.


Friend Krieg pauses to take it all in.
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Friday, April 14

African Family

A story I wrote on a recent field visit.

A woman and nine children emerge from inside and behind a mud house. There are no men in this family, who are a rare sight in this area. HIV/AIDS has rewarded their hard labor with an early death, leaving behind children, wives and mothers; even grandmothers.

An old woman sits in a chair, extends a hand towards us in welcome. After introductions, Kyikethe Wamwalua thanks us for coming, saying, “It is good that you have come, so you can see the wound you are treating.” She is a grandmother to the other woman, Catherine Nduku, and great-grandmother to the 9 children.


Catherine recently benefited from a maize distribution coordinated by Church World Service and the Africa Brotherhood Church. She received a total of 100 kilos of maize, which should feed the family of 11 for about 3 weeks.
She is responsible for the nine children, four of whom are her own, and her grandmother. All the men have succumbed to HIV/AIDS, including her brother two years ago whose wife ran away after his death. Since Catherine is the primary caretaker of these 10 persons, she relies heavily on Nzeli, a sister-in-law who earns around $30/mo. in a village store. Neighbors have donated used uniforms so that the children can attend school. The family cooks twice a day, using any leftovers for breakfast the next day.
Behold the Future: A woman looks to her child, a child looks to his great-grandmother.


The ABC distribution sponsored by CWS was facilitated by the lead coordinator, Juliana Mulandi. The community selected the members of utmost need as maize recipients, including widows, orphans, the elderly and handicap. Cowpea, cassava and sweet potato seed was also distributed as alternatives to maize, both to increase nutrition and as a more durable crop.


Monday, April 10

Turkana

My friend Paul comes from Turkana, the remote Northwest District of Kenya. His people are pastoralists, often moving to follow the rain patterns to feed their flocks. Generally they stay as a clan (about 100 people, or 2-5 families) in one area for one month, then move on. He had 8 brothers and sisters but 2 have passed on. There are 14 clans in his tribe, and one cannot marry from within the same clan.

His grandfather had 13 wives and 70 children. A Turkana saying: “One wife is like having one eye.” That is, if something were to happen to that eye, you’d be blind. A typical dowry used to be 30 goats, 10 cows, 5 camels, 5 donkeys and lots of beads, given to the parents. Nowadays, people are much poorer due to a greater population, overstocking and climate change, and pay much less in terms of dowry.

Traditionally, the men wear blankets or nothing at all. The women wear animal skins and beads, covering their private parts. Women who go to school are traditionally considered not to be morally upright and therefore not worthy candidates for marriage. All the men carry around an ekicholong, a small stool used as a pillow for sleeping or sitting.

As pastoralists, they live off their animals. However, very rarely do they kill one, maybe one goat a month. They survive by eating nangarra, a porridge made of salt, sugar, blood and milk. They cut an artery of the goat near the shoulder, draining some of the blood in a pan before using the goat’s droppings to clot the wound. They eat about once a day, usually at night, and supplement their diet with wild fruits and what wild animals they can kill.

He characterizes his people as quite idle compared to city-dwellers. Dancing (edonga) at night is a popular activity, with the men clapping and stomping in unison as they chant out a beat. The young and unwed often do the dancing, with lots of respect shown to the elders. Sometimes the male dancers will shout out the names of their bull.

Christians, predominantly Catholics, have brought a lot of change to the Turkana people in the forms of education, health and lifestyle. Up until last year all eight of the high schools were Catholic. The church built houses for its members and introduced Western clothing, and the first permanent towns were established. Health clinics, roads and boreholes were also built. In this way, the Catholics were more of an NGO than a faith community, and Turkanas won’t come to church if it isn’t offering something in terms of a school, health clinic or food.

Today Paul studies logistics at a local Christian college, hoping to get a job to help his people develop. World Vision paid for his primary education, and another donor from the states paid for his secondary schooling. He was given a camera by an American friend, allowing him to pay his present courses with the assistance of government funds through CDF (Community Development Fund). Presently he is engaged to Phoebe, a woman from the coast, although they don’t plan on marrying until one or both of them have stable jobs… which could be years from now.

Paul attributes his faithful optimism to helping him get through life. He envisions a mobilizing the youth to form a national movement to gain great political representation. Yet as his roommate says,

“The people who matter don’t care,
And the people who care don’t matter.”

Saturday, April 8

Ballin'



Myself with Team Andy's (L to R): Jamu, Dan, Simon, Terry, et al.

Today I was invited to join a team from St. Andrews to play in a basketball tournament. I thought it would be held indoors, but we played on an outdoor court with holes and cracks filled with water and mud: true pick-up style.


Warm-Ups: I was one of about three who couldn't dunk.

Unfortunately, only one other team showed up. Still, we resoundly beat our opponents, 72-58 and 39-31, in a three-game series.


A Victorious Walk-Off.

Thankfully, the sun came out and it turned into a beautiful day. However, I wasn't prepared and was burnt in a pattern of warpaint au naturale and the color of uncooked hot dog.


Gotta Love the Pain of Gold Bond.

Thursday, April 6

Visiting Friends

A while ago I met a guy my age, Paul, on a bus coming from Matunda. He is from Turkana, a remote region in Northwest Kenya near Sudan and Ethiopia, and his people have been hard-hit by the drought. He currently studies logistics at a Christian training center in Machakos, a town about an hour outside of Nairobi.


Paul, his roommate, fiancee Phoebe, and Me outside his school.

I took a matatu from Athi River after visiting Kajiado for the day. As fortune would have it, it quickly became dark but I met another Kenyan, Mwando, who helped me arrive to Paul's place safely. His roomate is from Western Province and we talked late into the night with Paul and his friends about what they were studying, the Turkanas, and a vision of uniting the youth of Kenya.


A mattress for two (and 3 tonight). They pay about $13/mo. for this simple room.

The next morning I traveled another half-hour to meet another friend, Sila. I met him on the street, and to make a long story short ended up sponsoring his daughter for secondary school with the help of a friend back home. We walked and traveled by matatu for nearly two hours to see both his son, Michael, at Mukaa school and his daughter, Josephine, at Precious Blood.


Sila and his daughter, Josephine.

Josephine is first in her class and will now be able to sit for her final examinations in November. However, if Sila is unable to raise another $300 by then, she will not receive her certificate.


A cow grazes in a field by the roadside. Somewhere in the distance Sila has a homestead.

The hike up the road led to some spectacular views of the hill country we were in, vaguely reminding me of the Smokies... save for the farmland on all of the hillsides. I ran out of time to visit their home, but it was good to see where Sila's family comes from and spend a morning traveling with a friend.

Wednesday, April 5

Death Around the Corner

This morning Will heard four gunshots outside. Looking out the window, he saw a police vehicle speed past. I kept sleeping.

On our way to work, we passed by a man lying on the street. He'd been shot by the police for attempting to break into a person's house. Large bolt clippers lay by his side.

I don't think I've ever seen a dead man lying in the street before. Many Kenyans stood around talking about the incident, but none seemed terribly disturbed by the events. There were no police markers or crime scene tape; just a police vehicle a short distance away. I think the body was finally picked up around 10:30 AM.

Many questions remain. Why did the police need to shoot this man? Did they think he was armed? Was he trying to escape? Is this what normally happens?

It seems that death is a lot more palpable here. Most houses/complexes are walled-in and have at least one security guard. Nairobi is known as "Nairobbery" in some places, yet the government has done a lot to reduce the crime. For instance, on our street the city has installed lighting to deter crime at night.

Sometimes I feel the police respond violently. When people were protesting the Danish cartoons, there was a man shot by police. Are they overreacting? Were they properly trained? I'm uncertain...

Still, I feel safe walking along the street, despite (or because of?) my white skin.

Tuesday, April 4

The Best Things in Life Can't Wait... But Must

I'm not sure what it is, but it's been hard to focus lately, both at work and just day-to-day activities. Perhaps it's coming back from South Africa and feeling a bit disoriented. Perhaps it's thinking about jobs and living situation when I return in August.

Before coming to Kenya, I had placed a lot of emphasis on hope. If someone has something to hope, something good to look forward to in the future, then that will propel them past present and possible undesireable circumstances. But what if there's LOTS to look forward to, like going to Tanzania this month and Emily's visit in May, and then stress caused by future uncertainties, i.e. earning money and finding a place to live?

And what if there's nothing to hope for? What then?

I've prayed a lot about perspective lately. I pray that I will see this country not as a corrupt, backward place compared to what I saw in South Africa, but a country of friendly people eager to move forward. I pray that I will not think it terms of "What will Emily and I do while she's here?" but in terms of preparing my heart to share my life here with a dear friend I haven't seen in 9 months. I pray that I let God seize hold of my worries on the future, laying me down to rest in the present blessing as I live the dream of being here in Kenya and working with a faith-based NGO.

In our line of development work, we often talk about planting the seeds of hope for people. In Christianity, we often talk of the hope of the afterlife. Perspective does do a lot to encourage and discourage. Yet must we always focus on what is to come? What about the here and now? And when we do realize our dreams, won't we imagine another one?

We must be content in the present just as we our hopeful in the future, lest we deceive ourselves and become blind to today's blessings and challenges. Otherwise, we run the risk of saying to God, "Welp, see ya there!" and we race off to do our own business, trusting that we'll end up eventually where God can bless us. Let us prepare our hearts today before the sun rises tomorrow.

God makes awesome promises to us about our future, both in this life and the next. Yet the Lord also promises to be with us, here and now, until the end of the Age. Let us not forget to reach out our hands to grab hold of God's, in addition to as we journey hand-in-hand to the Promised Land.

Monday, April 3

Me, Consulting?


The rains have come, turning this place into the Garden of Eden (compare with previous photos from November). Unfortunately, much of the drought-stricken regions continue to starve for rain. Even if rains fell today, it would be another 3 months for the first harvest.

Today I had the delightful opportunity to join another development group in monitoring/evaluating a rain water catchment project. The consultant, Joseph Sang, found my blog on the internet and invited me to join him in the field. He wanted me to compare what Church World Service did with what this project was doing.


At one of the homes, two children held my hands as we listened to their mother talk about their tank. They loved to feel the hair on my arms, and I felt like a prized possession. It was tough to leave.

I was quite honored to be asked to consult; most of my colleagues could probably have done a better job, but also have work of their own to be doing. I found it quite interesting to compare their project to ours. They had built gutters on tin-roof houses that ran water into a tank, either of concrete and plastic.


My colleagues, Caroline, Joseph and Sammy, speak to one of the beneficiaries.

Usually, we build larger tanks at schools or other community centers so people come and draw water, hopefully at a shorter distance than wherever they got their previous water source. We also train water management committees to manage the project, overseeing funds and repairs, so that the project is sustainable without our further input. Also, these commmittees allow for the community to save money and decide which project they'd like to tackle next; with their own funds.

This project focused on the individual, but worked through community groups so that those members who didn't receive a tank could use their neighbors until they had a tank of their own. Since there was no charge for the water, however, it seemed that they would have to wait until the next donor came along to get a rain water catchment setup.


Water drips into barrels when it rains (foreground), or runs directly into plastic or concrete tanks (background). With men out in the fields herding cattle, the women and children are often left to collect water, hauling up to 50 L a day for several kilometers, consuming 2 or more hours of hard labor that could be used for other income-generating activities (IGAs).

There were also questions about which was better: plastic or concrete? Plastic tanks are cheaper and have less maintenance requirements, whereas concrete tanks are bigger and last longer, but cost more and have higher maintenance requirements. For instance, if the tank is too dry for too long, cracks will form and the tank will leak when it's filled again.


Dung Beetle: The Maasai say this piece of mud-crud rolled as a ball is the beetle's "cow," constantly herding it around and if they are separated, searching for it until it is found. According to Answers.com, the tumblebug rolls these wads of cow dung for long distances, sometimes working in pairs, for the purpose of laying eggs inside of it.

All in all, it was an interesting experience to be with another NGO doing similar work. I felt more detached from the project than I normally feel, and sometimes it was hard to keep my focus due to all of the Kiswahili. Nonetheless, I learned more about development from a different perspective and am wondering if this is a field I could pursue. But for now, I'll take these chances as opportunities to expand my knowledge... and contribute just a little where I can.