Conn in Kenya

Reflection

2010-07-16T10:32:00.000-07:00

It is, today, exactly one month since I left the, "Green City in the Sun." It seems longer, and like my time there was a dream. I think of the people and the amazing times that we shared together in a place that is so far from my home, and it is difficult to believe that it actually happened.

4 weeks ago I was in Africa, working with Somali refugees, shooting documentaries in the slums, and meeting every morning with the Church Army Interns to study God's word. Now I am back in Pittsburgh, in my old home, with my old friends, and trying to figure out whats next for my life; basically where I was before I left...at least externally.

Perhaps most confusing is how the changes that took place internally, in Africa, fit or break the life that I lived previously; the life that I am now, again, externally immersed in. A quintessential internal struggle with the outside world I suppose.

Nairobi was amazing. I loved every second I spent in the country. The food, the culture, the people, the work; all of it. I would not trade the time I spent there, or the people I got to spend it with for anything in the world, and I will surely never forget it.

Recently, I had a small number of the 1500+ photos taken, printed up, and even just looking through them is like looking at still frames of a dream. I haven't taken the time to go back and read through this blog, but I am sure that when I do, and bring the memories back to the surface it will be beyond surreal.

God blessed me so magnificently on my travels. I never had any issues of protection, never got sick, never went hungry, even the bed bugs/fleas are an episode that I look back on now with a large smile.

My time in Kenya was magical. The Somalis with their extremely inspirational testimonies, people coming to Christ in Northern Uganda, the Academy students in Mombasa, playing cards with Benjamin, ping-pong with Sarah, Big Chicken Inn with Lillian after church, laughing with the interns. It was too wonderful, too enjoyable, too blessed to be real. Its flawlessness is what makes the memories seem so unbelievable. I'm sure I have already romanticized certain memories in my mind, but really even while the events were occurring I remember saying to myself, "Is this really happening?" Like when I was on the back of a motorcycle, speeding down an old dirt road in the heart of rural Africa, nothing in any direction as far as the eye could see but small rocky mounds, bush, and sand. The sky was nothing but blue, the wind whipping past my driver's helmet, and Benjamin, riding a couple of meters in front, looking back at me smiling; I could do nothing but think to myself, "Thank you God." Even then, at the very moment I was encountering it, it seemed too surreal, like I was watching a movie unfold in front of my eyes.

Yet it happened, and now it's over. And like any individual, after any situation, I am forced to determine how I will to respond to it. How do I move forward from it, learn from it, embrace it, honor it, and pass it on?

I can verbally say the answer, the answer I know to be correct. But any real, true, answer is lived, not spoken. So my answer to these events can only be shown in my actions moving forward, and I ask you all to keep me in your prayers as I attempt to do so.

I thank you for your generous support, for making this dream a reality, and for helping me along the way in forms you may not even realize you did. This is my final post. Thanks for reading, it has been a joy to write. God bless.

Distribution of Funds

2010-06-23T09:00:00.001-07:00

Hello All,

I have arrived safely back in the U.S. of A., and I am beginning to get settled back into American living. I find it interesting though that within my few days home I have received food poisoning and have been bitten by more mosquitoes than I had been in Africa...

This post is not in fact my final reflection post but instead an update to all of my donors.

By the time of my departure from Kenya there were still some funds remaining in my account. So I wanted to let all of the donors know that beyond supporting me and my work for my six months in Nairobi, you also sponsored a child at the Church Army Academy for a year, as well as made very generous donations to both the Church Army Production Department, and the Christ Church Somali Ministry.

I want to earnestly and sincerely thank you all for your generous giving, prayers, and support. It has gone extremely far and has blessed me and many others in more ways than I can count. Thanks again and God bless.

Preemptive Post

2010-06-14T05:02:00.000-07:00

Inevitably the following 10 questions will be asked. I have decided to answer them before they are...

1.) My favorite part of the trip has been meeting and building relationships with so many amazing people. I think I have been befriended by as many people in Kenya as I have been my whole life prior, and they will be, by far, the hardest thing to leave.

2.) My least favorite thing, has been waking up to no water from the taps. Possibly my only complaint about my whole time here will be those mornings when I woke up and just wanted to shower, turned the knob, and nothing happened. Or when I came back from hustling around town all day covered in sweat and dirt and the shower offered no cure. I look forward to again turning the shower on, and knowing, for certain, that I will be able to wash.

3.) My favorite trip has been the mission to Uganda. Although the Masai Mara was pretty breathtaking, the excitement (and food) of Uganda had to win out. From riding through small rural villages on the back of a motorbike, to 500 person open air crusades, it was a truly unique and wonderful experience.

4.) My least favorite trip, believe it or not, would have to be the flea infested smoldering hot tour through the coastal town of Mombasa. Although it did have its share of high points, the fact that I was forced to move from my room in Nairobi for half of a week afterwards to rid it of fleas solidified its spot at the bottom...

5.) As far as the food goes, its been amazing. I remember getting ready to leave in early January and stuffing my face in the name of ignorance as to what I would be eating in the months to come. The food situation was really the only thing I was nervous about coming over, and it has proved to be one of my favorite aspects of the Kenyan culture; chapti, stew, beans, rice, ugali, sukuma, all of it. Its been a delicious 6 months.

6.) One of the most interesting things, in regards to cultural differences, has been learning about the wedding customs. The man must pay a dowry to the family of his bride. Sums so large they usually take many years to pay off (if they ever actually are). The more schooling the woman has the more valuable she is, and the larger the dowry. They can be as large as millions of shillings or as small as a goat. Once the wedding is official a committee is formed and the couple does hardly any planning. Even more surprising they do very little of the funding as well. It is a community event. The community plans it, and the community pays for it. Everybody chips in what they can. They are no small event either. They probably average 300 people, and 600 guests is nothing too special...

Also interesting, elementary school students are taken on field trips to AIDS wards to scare the students away from bad decisions. They just walk down the hallways looking at all the sickly and dying patients...

7.) Health concerns? I have been extremely blessed when it comes to sickness and stomach issues. I have had none (although Malaria could show up at some point down the line I suppose...).

8.) The bugs haven't been too much of an issue. Aside from a minor flea infestation, bed bug scare, and a cockroach kitchen bastion there hasn't really been any problem to report. The mosquitoes haven't even been noticeable the past couple months. Every now and again a giant beetle may be buzzing around, a new batch of flying termites may insistently fly into the same walls over and over; during a camping trip you may step on a safari ant farm and bare the consequences; but all in all, nothing major. Of late downtown Nairobi has been swarmed with 3 inch long grasshoppers, but all things considered the bugs were a minor issue at best. (It also helps to share you room with a gecko.)

9.) What did I learn you ask? Well, that one will take much longer than this post will abide, but it is my hope that this question will be fully answered upon the posting of my reflection on the past 6 months. It should be up within a week or so of my return...

10.) Would I come back? God willing, in the shake of hippo's tail.

Winding down...

2010-06-14T04:23:00.000-07:00

I have a little over 48hrs left in Nairobi. It feels pretty strange; part of me wants to stick around, part of me is looking forward to returning.

It has been an extremely busy past couple of days. This week is Church Army Africa's biggest week of the year, and I just so happened to decide to leave square in the middle of it!

Thursday is the Church Army Captain commissioning, which is then followed by a dinner with the Bishop of Kenya (Patron of Church Army Africa) as the special guest.

Everybody has been working for the past couple of months to make sure that everything goes smoothly, and I have been attempting to complete all of my work as well before fleeing the country.

The Mission in the City documentary has again been pushed back, but it is my goal to complete it after this post, and perhaps put it up tomorrow.

I have been trying to get in all of my "good-byes," there have been so many people I have met in so many different areas over the course of my time here that it was been quite a feat to do so.

The interns slept over Dave and Lucy's this past Saturday, and they threw me an early Birthday party since I leave before it takes place. They made a cake and everyone gave a speech. It was a lot of fun.

The next day I went to church and said good bye to all of my friends there, and then I went for my last Big Chicken Inn experience (heartbreaking...).

Afterwards we went to Uhuru Park to just hang out for a while. Uhuru park is Nairobi's version of Central Park, and on the opposite side of the public hang-out there was a huge gathering to support the "No" campaign. Those against the new constitution in Kenya.

The group mainly consists of religious figures and a few rogue MPs.

While we were just hanging out we heard a loud explosion and we looked around for fireworks but there were none we could see. Nairobi, being a city of many random and inexplicable loud sounds nobody thought much of it.

About 20min later I returned home to Church Army and turned on the TV to see that the No campaign had been bombed.

In Kenya they count anyone injured as a "casualty", so I was completely frozen when I saw scrolling along the bottom of the screen: "Uhuru Park explosion - 80 casualties." I later learned that 3 people were killed and around 75 injured.

Festus one of the interns was at the rally, within 15 feet of where the explosion had occurred. He left 10 minutes before it did. Stunned by his luck, and influenced by all of the morning discussions we'd been having, that night he gave his life to Christ. He shared the whole story with us this morning, and the group was excited and happy for him.

There's very little information as to what exactly took place at this point, but the religious leaders are blaming government officials, and after the violence following the previous election, things are already appearing to spiral out of control as the referendum vote approaches on Aug. 4th.

Keep Kenya in your prayers.

Masai Mara na Lake Nakuru

2010-06-03T07:25:00.000-07:00

I have returned from the Mara, alive and with all limbs intact.

As you will see in the pictures below, I saw Lions, Elephants, Zebras, Buffaloes, a number of the deer family (Gazelle, Thompson, Impala, etc.), Giraffes, Hippos, Rhinos, Crocodiles, Baboons, Ostriches, Wildebeest, Warthogs, Hyenas, Flamingos, and millions of other birds. It was a good trip.

We left Sunday morning at 8am. Bought food for the next couple days (there's no shopping malls in the bush), and were on our way to the Masai Mara.

Along for the journey was our trusty guide and driver, Simon, and two residents of Calgary, Canada, Oz and Nakura. Simon was an old Kenyan, a "mzee," as he would be called in Swahili. He had been giving tours of the Mara for over 40 years and it showed. Suffice to say he had driven the same bumpy, uneven roads one to many times. However, what he lacked in enthusiasm and charm, he more than made up for in experience and he found us many animals. In the end I grew to like his dry, ineffectual demeanor, and he was nice enough. Oz was a Mexican-Canadian. Born in Mexico he moved to Calgary after high school. Once out of college he spent a year in Japan. During his tenure there he met Nakura, a young girl who, as his time in Japan was running out, was to go to Australia to learn English. He convinced her to try Canada instead, and they were married a year later. They had come to Kenya from Madagascar, and would continue on to Dubai, and Egypt before returning to the U.S.'s Northern neighbor.

Our first stop was at an over look that offered an amazing view of the Rift Valley. This segment of the Great Rift Valley (which, in its entirety, runs from Syria to Mozambique!), is a perfect representation of a divergent plate boundary, which, as I learned in GEO 001, means the tectonic plates are moving away from one another, thus causing the huge valley.

The Canadian Couple checking out some skins at the over look.

At the over look we also picked up two new passengers. Though the three of us were quite comfortable with our excess space, another van had been over booked, and we agreed to take on a British couple. I was officially the 5th wheel. The British couple were a little older, perhaps late 30's, and were both architects living in London. We chatted a little about London, and I told them of the semester I had spent on the Eastside of the city, before I learned that the gentleman, Chris, had been traveling for the past year; through Australia, New Zealand, the South Pacific, South America, and the bottom half of Africa. His girlfriend, Amy, had joined him sporadically from place to place during that course of time and all they have left is summiting Mt. Kilimanjaro, and relaxing on the Zanzibar coast before returning to foggy ol' London town.

We then continued on to the small dusty town of Narok, were we stopped to take our lunch. Passing between two giant, plastic tusks we took part in a buffet of chapti, chicken, beans, rice, and spaghetti.

We made it to the gate of the Masai Mara, and subsequently our camp, around 4:30pm. The two couples went to visit the Masai village outside the camp, but I opted out to settle into my tent, hearing the village to be a bit of a tourist trap.

Masai.

The camp in which we were staying was a compound of around 30 tents that seemed to be used by a number of Safari outfitters. Each tent was attached to its own cement bathroom with running water.

My tent, trusty No. 4.

Nothing like running water in the wilderness...

As I was traveling on my own, I was to share with another loner. A Frenchman by the name of Tony, who had evidently traveled the greater portion of the world, was literally a ninja (trained in Japan), and who was spending the next 6 months in Africa to fulfill his dream of coming face to face with a full grown male lion was my roommate. As I was unpacking he was called out of the tent to train with one of the Masai warriors, themselves known to be impressive fighters...

It was quite an eclectic group already, and would only become more so over the days to come.

When the two couples returned we did an evening game drive. On our first drive we saw thousands (at least hundreds...) of Zebra, Thompson, Impala, a family of Giraffes, and herds of Cape Buffalo and Wildebeests.

After the drive we returned to the camp around 6:30pm to shower and then got dinner around 7. Reaching the main central tent in which the meals were served, we were met by a group of 14 Canadian students that had spent the previous month volunteering at an AIDS clinic in the Western Province of Kenya. Two of the students were film majors and were going to Nairobi after the Safari to make a documentary. We spent a good portion of the night talking about the shoots that I had and have been working on, and about some good subjects for their project.

I went to bed early, around 9-9:30, and awoke at 7am to catch breakfast before the big day. This day, Monday, was our main day on the Mara; a solid 10 hours. The trip started off with a bang, spotting two male lions after only 10min in the park, but I believe the pictures will tell a better tale of the rest of the day than I ever could. There are over 750, but for the sake of both of our time these are the selected few.

A lioness basking in the sun.

A very blue bird.

The aptly titled Sand River

The Boarder of Tanzania and Kenya, and subsequently
the Serengeti and the Masai Mara.

The world famous Mara River, site of the migrating wildebeests'
river crossing, and subsequently the crocodile feeding fest.

Hippos in the Mara River.

Me with some traces of Hippos in the water.

A crocodile coming out of a tributary into the Mara River.

Tons (literally) of Hippos.

Our armed guide, should the Hippos get a little excited...

A Cape Buffalo skull and I.

The same monkeys that had terrorized us last weekend on
the camp trip stole one of the tourists bananas.

Hippo tracks.

Hippo skull.

The heads of the British couple, and some elephants.

Mother & child

Buffalo being stalked by whats below...

Two lions.

When we got back from the Safari, we again showered before eating, but this time found that the group of Canadians (as well as my interesting French tentmate Tony) had moved on. In their place was a Norwegian woman and her Ethiopian husband, a Dutch couple (I think next time I will have to bring Maria to the Mara), and an Australian mother-daughter duo. The Australian daughter has been in Africa for 6 months working as a nurse in Ethiopia, and will spend the next six months in Kampala, Uganda doing the same work, and her mother had come to visit during the halfway mark to do some touristy activities. We again ate, and talked into the evening, and I went back to my tent around the same time as before, this time having the dark green tarp to myself.

On Tuesday morning we awoke at 6am to do an early morning game drive, but unfortunately the animals, this day, were difficult to find. We mainly drove around in vain for a couple of hours before returning to the camp to eat a big breakfast and head out for Lake Nakuru.

Along the way we made two stops. First, in Narok, again for lunch, and secondly at Lake Naivasha to drop off the Canadian couple. They had planned to see the fresh water lake known for its nearby volcanically bubbling rivers, endearingly called, "Hell's Gate."

Again having the safari van just to the three of us (though, this time it was I and the British couple), we continued on our way to Lake Nakuru.

The town of Nakuru is much more developed than the area surrounding the Mara, and is in fact the capital city of the Rift Valley Province. We pulled into Hotel Genevieve around 6:30, and I was glad to have my own hotel room complete with TV and bathroom.

After settling into the room, I went down for supper in the hotel's dinning room, this time joining an Israeli couple (about my age), and two British women a couple years older than me. The food was again good, and the conversation was better. Indeed, one of my highlights from the whole trip was just talking with all the different people. There was quite a spectrum of personalities...

After dinner and the converstating, I went to my room and slept. I was up at 6am on the final day. I ate breakfast with the same group I had shared dinner with, and then joined up with Simon and the British couple in the van. Simon informed us the Safari van was having some problems with the clutch. Two hours of sitting at the mechanic's garage later, we were inside the park. Greeted instantly by fearless (relatively) smaller monkeys freely entering through windows and searching the van for food. We were originally entertained, but then as they became more daring, we scared them away; a foreshadowing of events to come.

Monkey in the car.

There's a lion in there somewhere...

Cape Buffalo & millions of Flamingos

All along the shore.

Englishman, Chris snapping some shots of the flamingos

Hyena.

Black Rhino with a Baboon.

Cat in a tree.

Again.

After driving around the park and seeing a number of wonderful animals (as pictured), we drove up to a look out, ominously titled, "Baboon Cliff." If you haven't noticed yet in the background of any of the photos the safari vans' roofs lift up in order to give its passengers 360 degree visibility. As we parked at the top of the mountain over looking the large lake, a huge male Baboon came sprinting on all fours towards our vehicle. Simon yelled for me to close the roof. I tried, but the lever was stuck and I had my camera in my left hand. I quickly set the camera down and turned to start afresh when I was eye to eye with the large hairy monkey. I instantly jumped back into my seat and the Baboon followed. Landing an inch or two from on top of me, he sat in the seat next to me and starred at me momentarily. Unsure that if I tried to scare him away he would attack, and at a complete loss for how to react, I sat frozen. He looked around for food, jumped over the seat to the next row across from the British man, and directly in front of his girlfriend. Chris, the Brit, had his leg prepped at chest level ready to kick and the camera in his hands at his eye. The Baboon picked up a guide book to East Africa that was lying on the floor and checked it for edibility. The hairy primate then noticed a ranger running over. It threw the book down and in one fluid motion was off the seat, out the roof, and running towards the woods. The ranger whipped a couple of rocks at the terrorizing beast, which it easily dodged, nonchalantly jumping numerous feet in the air. Chris was upset he neither kicked nor took a picture in his fright, we all began laughing, and Amy (Chris's girlfriend) refused to leave the car (roof now closed).

Big baboon...

Baboon looking out over Baboon Cliff.

On Baboon Cliff.

Millions of flamingos looking like waves along the shoreline.

After pictures and the Baboon scare we returned to our hotel for lunch and began the journey back to Nairobi.

The trip was an amazing experience, I saw so many creatures, took many many pictures, and perhaps best of all got to meet quite an array of interesting people.

When I returned to my room, I was amazed to realize I had exactly 2 weeks left in Nairobi. The time, it seems, has simply evaporated.

My Breakfast with the President of Kenya

2010-05-29T12:31:00.000-07:00

Church Army Productions was selected from among Kenya's leading broadcast networks to edit the National Pray Day last Thursday.

Sarah handled the filming and Dave and Lucy were granted tickets to the event. Thanks to Lucy's busy schedule she was not able to attend and Dave invited me to fill her void.

The event took place in the luxurious Safari Park Hotel, and its guests included the likes of most of the western world's ambassadors to Kenya, members of Kenyan Parliament, and the Kenyan commander-in-chief himself, President Kibaki.

We were served a delicious meal of: eggs, ham, sausage, toast, mushrooms, tomatoes, and beans. Before being addressed by the Catholic Bishop of Eldoret (one of the larger Kenyan Cities), a handful of MPs and, finally, the President.

It was an event that, at its best, serves to remind the nation (at least those in attendance and watching on TV) that even government officials still rely on the power of prayer, and at its least, is a free meal and platform for politicians to flaunt their religious zeal...

There was around 200 people in attendance and it was probably the second closest I've ever been to a president (I once got to shake Bill Clinton's hand...).

Tomorrow morning I go on Safari.

I decided I should start looking into making a trip to the Masai Mara before I leave, and went into town today to do so. Now a half dozen hours later, I am about to begin packing.

I was searching around town, when I eventually stumbled upon a place that offered me a pretty amazing price for the trip if I could join a group that was leaving first thing tomorrow morning.

I called Dave, he gave me the go-ahead, and the rest, as they say, is history... or soon will be.

I will be going with 4 Canadians whom I will meet for the first time tomorrow (I was informed that they were around my age), and potentially another two people that were recruited after I.

I will be going to the Masai Mara (the northern and concluding tip of the Serengeti) for about 3 days, and then to Lake Nakuru National Park for a little over 1. I will return on Wednesday evening, and will hopefully be able to write a full report of the trip the following Thursday.

Until then, have a great week!

Patmos; Hope Amidst Hardship

2010-05-28T08:12:00.000-07:00

I have posted the finalized version of Patmos; Hope Amidst Hardship to YouTube.com. It can be found if you search for, "Hope Amidst Hardship."

The film is mainly being shown in the United Kingdom to raise funds for the small church in Kibera. It was my first documentary here that I was solely in charge of the writing, shooting, and editing. It was a lot of fun to make, and wouldn't have been possible without the Church Army Production team. Hope you like it!

Tent Post

2010-05-25T03:31:00.000-07:00

The adventure began around 3pm on Friday the 21st. The last bag packed into the back of Dave's Toyota we left the Church Army compound heading in the direction of Rowallan, in the Ngong Forest. Stopping along the way to pick up some potatoes and onions, we arrived close to 4.

As we entered the site I recall excitedly pointing out a monkey swinging gracefully through the branches. If only I knew then what I know now...

We paid for our camping site, and made the short walk to its resting place beside a recently used fire ring. To the intern's chagrin and my delight the site apparently was a package deal that included three dogs.

The men setup the tents while the ladies unpacked the food. Those jobs completed the party set out into the wilderness in search of wood... to little success. The forest, which is just a stone's throw away from the slum of Kibera is evidently raided early every morning for anything that can be used as fuel to cook meals, burn garbage, and be sold to those who don't feel like scouring the forest floor.

Finding roughly enough twigs to get a fire started we began the walk back to camp. About 100 yards from our tents, our three trusty companions (the dogs who come along for the search) took off, barking and sprinting towards our tents. Originally confused, we soon saw nearly a dozen monkeys shooting up the handful of trees surrounding our camp.

We rushed over to find that nearly a perfect half of all the food we had brought had been stolen by our primate cousins.

Adding insult to injury the monkeys all just looked down at us while they ate our bread and avocados a mere 20 feet above our heads. We threw sticks and stones, but failed to break any bones, and names didn't seem to hurt them.

Giving up on vengeance we turned our attention to starting a fire; and spent the next hour and a half on the task. We are currently in the middle of Kenya's rainy season, so all the wood we managed to find had been thoroughly saturated in rain water, but after much effort, smoke, and hissing logs, the fire was burning.

We began boiling water to make Ugali (the white amorphous blob of food), and sat around talking as the sun went down. Around 8pm Teacher Lillian, who was to join us once she finished at the academy had finally reached Kibera, and Festus and George left to meet her. They returned close to 8:45pm, just as Eunita, Suezett, and I finished up cooking dinner: Ugali and Sukuma Wiki (literally translates as "Push the week" because it is so cheap and common in Kenya and eaten when no other food can be afforded.). Sukuma Wiki, which is supposedly called 'Kale' in English (I've never of 'em), is quite good when prepared with some tomatoes and onions.

We ate dinner, had a Bible study, and talked well into the night, hitting the sack around 2am. I didn't have any bedding other than my pillow and layered on the clothing. Along with being in the rainy season, it is now also, more or less Kenya's "Winter" so it dropped to the low 60's in the wee hours of the morning.

The next day I was the first to rise, and managed to revive the fire as the rest of the group arose from their slumber. We ate breakfast over a span of 3 hours due to the large quantity of food, and the time it took to cook it. We then spent the remainder of the morning playing games.

I found it intriguing that all of the Kenyan games were group, or community games that involved everyone, and didn't have any kind of clear winner or loser. Theirs, were different kinds of singing, dancing, and memorization games, and the majority of them called for everyone to work together.

The only games I could think of were competitive and individualized with clear winners and losers. We played the American games, and had fun doing so, but I couldn't help but find childhood games an interesting insight into cultural differences.

The games were interrupted from time to time as we noticed a monkey or two eating more of our food and we quickly ran over to chase them away. The dogs did a good job of chasing, but unfortunately never seemed to notice the long tailed pests until after we did.

Dave and Lucy game to visit around 3pm, and we utilized Dave's automobile to replenish the supplies stolen from us by our notable adversaries.

The Chaves hung around until a little after 5 as we began cooking our late late lunch (the breakfast was huge) then Lucy (who is 8+ months pregnant) was taken home.

The following evening took place much like the previous one, but this time we made fries, and I was surprised with kuku (chicken) which was fried up as well.

I have become somewhat notorious for my unappeasible hunger for kuku. The chicken here is unexplicably delicious and I eat it, and as much as I can, pretty much every opportunity that I get. Because of this fact I have been graciously accepted into the Luhya Tribe, and given the name "Conn Kamau Wanjala Wepukulu" (Wepukulu, for short). The 'Wanjala' means born in a time of hunger. The Luhyas hail from western Kenyan and are infamous for their love of kuku. Lillian, a fellow Luhya and tribesman, organized with the interns to surprise me with a chicken and the meal was eagerly devoured.

Again, the after dinner events followed closely to the previous nights, though again, with one notable difference. Around 12:15am, as we sat around the fire talking, Lillian received an unexpected phone call.

We were laughing and joking as she answered but her grave manner quickly quieted us down. I heard through her receiver a man on the other end say, "I was in prison, but I did nothing wrong." I was perturbed and oddly assumed not only that the man was must assuredly guilty for whatever he was accused, but that some danger may arise.

Lillian kept repeating that she didn't believe the man to be who he said he was, and muttered something about a testimony, before saying that she will message everyone and no one will believe.

The rest of us sat silent, and watching. We waited anxiously as she hung up the phone. She said nothing, opened her Bible, apparently read a verse, and began to cry.

We looked at one another, unsure of what just happened or what to do. Then she began:

(Backstory)
Lillian attended Carlile College (Church Army's college) over five years ago.

(Current story)
The man who had called her was a classmate during her time at Carlile. After a couple years of classes together, and about a month before their final exams, the man vanished on a trip to his home town. It was heard that he had been imprisoned, but was moved around so often no one could get in touch with him. He was charged with the murder of his wife. He was in jail, for five years; up until Sunday 'morning' at 12am. He had been acquitted. New evidence had come to light, and it was clear he was not guilty of his wife's murder. Five whole years he spent locked in a Kenyan prison cell, an experience George (who had passed some time in the big house himself) described as a place that is scarring to spend a second in. He (Lillian's friends) not only was falsely imprisoned but was done so for the brutal murder of his own wife! However, now, he was free, and called to ask Lillian if she thought it would be possible for him to finish his exams.

Before they ended the conversation Lillian asked him how he got through it, and the man simply replied, "Joshua 1:9."

The verse reads:

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." ~Joshua 1:9 (NIV)

It was learned that he had done next to nothing over the past five years but evangelize to his fellow prisoners. He exclaimed that God answers prayer, that He has a plan no matter how blind we are to it, or how poorly we misinterpret it; that He is a faithful God.

I struggled to get over the fact that no one seemed to note that the man's past five years were spent being tormented in jail, and pondered if that is really a blessing or an answered prayer. However, I slowly came to realize that it is when we attempt to put parameters on God's window of intervention, the time frame in which we expect (indeed, demand) Him to act, that we remove all faith in His divine will and plan from the equation.

To believe in God is to believe in His will for our lives, and you cannot fully believe in one without the other. Therefore, no matter what situation we are put in, even when things seem to be the exact opposite of anything that could be in the Almighty's game plan, be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

We prayed and thanked God for the man's release.

The next morning we awoke early, ate another large breakfast, and packed up camp before walking through Kibera, and catching a matatu home.

Pictures from the trip:

Setting up camp.

Morning Coffee, second day.

George watching water boil.

Eunita pushing Suezette on a natural swing.

Festus climbing around.

Me climbing...

...and falling.

The ladies getting ready to wash.

Teacher Lillian leading devotion.

Eunita eating.

George and I at lunch; George eating directly from the sufurias.

Festus and Suezette.

Lillian and George.

Me, getting made fun of for making a table.

Festo fryin' some eggs for our final breakfast.

The group, minus me.

THE END.

Haggling, Camping, Riots, and Somali News

2010-05-20T00:44:00.001-07:00

There has been much editing, but not to much exciting activity over the past two weeks, which has resulted in few blog posts. Mission in the City is awaiting some minor adjustments, and will soon be posted, and 'Patmos; Hope amidst Hardship' (My pseudo-solo documentary project) I hope to finish by the end of this week and have on the blog by mid-next week.

There have, however, been some substantial steps forward in the Somali Ministry, and I have become a student in the art of haggling.

First, the Somali ministry:

This update should be prefaced with a couple of facts regarding the leadership at Christ Church. As of May 1st both the vicar and curate of Christ Church were transferred, and new incumbents arrived. We were uncertain of the effect this would have on the Somali ministry going into the future, but so far it appears as though it will be a positive change.

Two Wednesdays ago, after about a month and a half of biblical teachings on business, we had the Somalis fill out a survey to begin moving forward with the micro-financing scheme.

We were hoping to get basic information such as, how much they think they would realistically be able to set aside each week for savings, what skills and experience they have, what kind of businesses they would like to open, etc.

At the end of the service the new curate (replacing Rev. Rachel), Rev. Richard, addressed the group. Thankfully, Rev. Rachel had left him with a very detailed account of the ministry and her hopes for the group. He expressed the "burden" that the Holy Spirit had put on his heart after reading the files, and pledge his support to do all he could to help the displaced peoples.

After the service Rev. Richard and I, sat down to map out our plans and discern the best way to progress. Looking at the surveys it became clear that a small savings, micro-loan type group may not be the best option for these people. The system depends upon a preexisting source of income to fuel its growth, a provision the majority of the Somalis are lacking.

The way the small savings group works is each member puts aside a small, predetermined amount each week at their meetings. Eventually, the savings becomes substantial enough to be lent out, with little to no interest, for the members to invest in things that can amplify their present income.

The problem with the Somalis is that if there is nothing coming in, nothing can be set aside. They are not yet in a position by which a micro-financing scheme is applicable or logical.

The question then is: what is the practical and logical way to assist the Somalis?

Rev. Richard and I have another meeting scheduled for this coming Wednesday to nail down the details, but we are thinking that the best thing to do for the Somalis now, would be to open up a stand or shop, operated by the Church, and employing the Somalis.

It is not only a way to help the Somalis in their first steps towards financial independence, but a structure that would give the Church much more control over the distribution of funds (and potentially give the Somalis the ability to start micro-loan groups down the line).

The talks have been very encouraging, and an answer to prayer. There was certainly a time when it looked like there was little chance of really aiding these people. The numbers were declining, the leadership was leaving, and the situation seemed helpless.

Now, I am glad to announce that yesterday the attendance more than doubled (it was still a humble 9, but its something!), the new church leaders appear to be even more active and excited about the progression of the ministry, and the plans to move forward seem both feasible and promising. Even the Somalis seem to sense the hope in the future and the atmosphere of the meetings has become much lighter and joyful.

So I would like to thank you all who have been praying (its working), and ask that you continue.

Aside from the Somali ministry and editing, I have spent my last two Saturdays going down to the Masai Market. The Masai Market is a crafts market in town were I would guess 92.3% of Kenyan souvenirs are purchased. It is also notorious for being the location in which many tourists are hustled out of their money...

Upon entering the market you are bombarded by a number of very smooth talking "brokers." The average tourist is not (or at least is not supposed to be) aware that the individual talking to them is a broker. They approach, "Hey my friend, How are you? Where you are from? The States, you are my brother! Obama! Which state? Ah, Pennsylvania, that is a good one. I was supposed to be (insert action), but let me help you with these vendors they will rip you off you know? I'll get the Kenyan prices for you." Should the unsuspecting tourist acquiesce, not only will he pay more for the objects he buys, but the broker will ask for a cut of the supposed savings. i.e. a vendor says this bowl is 20,000 shillings, the broker gets the vendor down to 12,000 shillings, and then says that he just saved you 8,000 shillings, how about you give him 500 or 1,000 for his efforts, and all the while you could have gotten the bowl for half the finalized price to begin with!

Usually a, "Sitaki (I don't want a) vendor," upon entering will do, but they are often very persistent, and sometimes you just have to be cold, ignoring their friendly and endless questions, and repeatedly saying "No, thank you."

Once you have breached the entrance the problem is no longer the brokers, but the vendors themselves. If you start a conversation they will do nearly everything within their power to not let you leave until you buy something. A fact that, once recognized, can actually be used in your favor. If you were to say, "I can only pay X," and its not excessively more than the craft is worth, perhaps even its true value, you will be met with a, "Ah, that's less than it costs me to make, please come up some, lets talk." To which the savvy buyer may respond, "Ah, I understand, thank you anyways. Its very nice, but I can't go above X." And as you turn to go, one of two things will happen: either your craft will be wrapped and handed to you at X shillings, or the vendor will stop you and you will each repeat the previous two lines multiple times until your craft is wrapped and then handed to you.

I thought it may be a good time to try and practice my Swahili as well, but soon learned I was better off not revealing I knew any. Once I uttered a few phrases, the vendors went off with a slew of sentences, completely lost on me, and I just starred blankly until they smiled, and switched back to English.

Lastly, Nairobi University, the premier university in Kenya, was supposed to hold its student body elections this week, but instead classes have been indefinitely suspended due to riots. In a disturbingly familiar scene, the elections were riddled with corruption and now violence; a mirror image of Kenya's presidential elections three years ago.

Why is a university's student body elections worth rioting? The student president is everything but handed a seat in parliament after graduation, not to mention a 4 million shilling stipend. Along with all of this the student is prepped for corruption during his term by being solely in charge of all business done on campus. If you want to sell guavas out on the quad, the president has to 'o.k.' it, which, as can be assumed, could become quite a lucrative post.

In the past political leaders as high as the president of Kenya himself have backed certain contenders. It is rumored the politicians see it as a little game; can my backed student beat out yours?

Evidently some parties involved were unhappy with the way things were going, and, as their national counterparts modeled, reacted with violence which was counteracted with violence which resulted in the suspension of classes.

So much for the young up-and-comers bucking the morally bankrupt political system...

The last bit of news I have is that this weekend the interns and I will be venturing into the Rowallan woods to do some good ol' fashion camping. Tomorrow after lunch Dave will drop us off at the park's entrance and we'll be setting up camp for the weekend. We shouldn't have any problem with wildlife other than some monkeys and the occasional warthog to cause some trouble. I will, of course, be filling in all the details upon our return. We're praying for no rain, but a day hasn't passed in two weeks without it...

Uganda Trailer

2010-05-13T00:14:00.000-07:00

Mission to Northern Uganda (posted by Church Army Africa) is a 2 and half minute trailer I put together from the footage of our recent trip to Uganda. The hope is that this video will be played at various functions to encourage more missions.

Post Coast

2010-05-06T04:42:00.001-07:00

The Friday following my return from the coast was business as usual. I got up, got dressed, made my daily commute (about 200 feet), and entered the Secretariat. I distributed the coconuts I had purchased and after telling my tale of Mombasa, learned of what had been going on during my absence.

I was met mainly by, "Noting really," before mention of the "Mungiki" peaked my interest. The mungiki is basically a Kenyan organized crime syndicate, and one of their main sources of income is from the matatus that the vast majority of the city uses to get around town.

As I have mentioned in previous posts, matatus are privately owned vans or small buses that go around picking people up for a fee. The mungiki are paid to protect the routes of these matatus and, if not paid, carry out the terrorizing of the routes.

During my absence a wealthy man who owned many matatus, paid the mungiki diligently, and who was supposed to be under the protection of the mungiki was killed by a Kenyan Policeman. The Mungiki now afraid of appearing weak, had begun to lash out. What exactly was supposed to be, or was, accomplished remains unknown to me, but many matatus were out of service, and unrest swept through a number of neighborhoods.

One such neighborhood lay between Church Army and one of the intern's, Festus', home. Last Tuesday on his way home, there was a shoot out between police and some members of the Mungiki. Festus, who was sitting in 'shotgun' of the matatu, was inches away from getting shot; the tire below his seat taking the bullet. He eventually made it home safely. He and Suzette have been forced to walk home since.

I guess someone got some message, and power was successfully flexed in someone's eyes, because the violence has now, thankfully, simmered down.

The following Sunday, after church, I visited Bomb Blast park. A small clearing of green space on the edge of the city. It is more famous for how it got cleared than the clearing itself. It is the place where the former U.S. Embassy was located. The embassy was bombed in 1998, the event that irst put Osama bin Laden on the FBI's top ten most wanted list. It is a nice park with a memorial and museum (complete with pictures of Obama's visit) to commemorate the tragic day. Over 200 Kenyans were killed, along with a little over a dozen Americans. It was eerie to see how the events (there was also a bombing at the embassy in Dar-es-Salaam on the same day) foreboded 9/11.

The other main events that jump to mind when I contemplate my time since returning from the coast are first, the reality of my finite time here, and secondly, my believed bed bug infestation.

When I returned from Mombassa, unpacked my belongings, and looked to the weeks ahead I came to the bitter sweet realization that my little stint in East Africa is indeed just that. It was a sobering, but motivating realization, and I hope to make the best of the dwindling time that remains (just under six weeks).

My finite time is felt most painfully in my workings with the Somali ministry. It has been staggering of late, and due to poor attendance has had little opportunity to move forward. I have acquired a number of the members phone numbers and intend to begin messaging the days leading up to the next meeting to try and motivate more to come out. We have met with the head of micro-financing at the Center for Urban Mission, and believe we can greatly help these people. The problem is I have only 5 remaining meetings to do so and they have not yet formed a cohesive unit of beleivers, the first step to becoming financial partners. I ask for your prayers especially in this department.

To the supposed bed bug situation. Once I returned from Mombassa I noticed an extremely large number of bites all over my body; granted I had been feasted on each night of the trip, but these bites were getting more itchy as time went on and didn't seem to go away. I didn't pay too much attention to the bites (other than scratching), until the next day when Lillian informed me she found two bed bugs crawling through her suitcase, and quickly 'insecticided' her entire apartment.

I talked to the maintenance man for the dorms and he inspected my room, but found nothing to convince him of bed bugs. Bed bug bites, depending on the person, can go unnoticed until a day or two after they are received. So it was hypothesized that although I had been bed bug dinner in Mombassa, perhaps they did not make the journey back to my room.

I was to serve as human bait to find out for sure. I counted my bites, 158 (I took a rigorous inventory, noting both number and location), and was to see if more would appear in the mornings to come.

It is very difficult to sleep when any random itch or sensation triggers a thought of being covered in bed bugs, and I would promptly turn on the lights and conduct a thorough inspection.

Every night before bed, I combed my room for bed bugs, but the only bugs I ever found were little gnats that, though they originally gave me a start, flew away when I got near, a trick the bed bug is incapable of, and I knew they were harmless. We always had many in the kitchen, around the garbage, and I didn't think much of them.

A week past and no new bites had been incurred. I had all but forgot about the problem when I woke up on Monday morning with a fresh batch of bites just below my neck.

Downtrodden that I had not escaped the bug, I informed the maintenance man, and we moved all of my furniture outside into the sun (the only successful way to get rid of the pests), ironed all of my clothes and sheets (the only way to kill the eggs), and sprayed insecticide everywhere in my room (one way to kill anything else).

However, as we were moving my belongings outside the maintenance man still claimed that I didn't have bed bugs, stating none of their tell-tale signs, other than my bites, were found. I respectfully disagreed, and then he noticed a couple of the gnats I had mentioned earlier on the window curtain, and stated, "Ah, I knew you didn't have bed bugs." I was confounded, and he continued, "You have fleas." There are few phrases as humbling as, "You have fleas." The so-called 'gnats', never actually flew away, but rather leaped a small distance, still a trick the bed bug is incapable of, but not quite as harmless. I had seen the enemy, but was completely unaware.

Despite the infliction to my pride, the fleas were good news, they are much easier to get rid of than the bed bug (which rivals cockroaches in refusal of eradication). We took more or less all the same measures mentioned above, and I slept on the common room's couch for the week, before reconstructing my room (flea free!) yesterday.

So, I am glad to announce that last night, was the first night this week that I both slept in my bed, and received a good nights rest.

Other news:

Church Army had a community retreat day, and we traveled to Limuru (45min outside of Nairobi) to a conference center, played games, bonded, and discussed the direction and purpose of Church Army as an organization.

The interns finished their study and reading of The Purpose Driven Life, were tested on it, and now we are moving on to study the spiritual disciplines. For which, I have begun reading a book by the scary title of, "The Celebration of Discipline"...

Both the Mission in the City and the Uganda Mission Trailer have been completed and will be posted on the blog as soon as possible.

Also, after a one month hiatus, Amtallah and I have begun afresh my Swahili classes (with no small amount of difficulty). We took the month of April off because of each of our travels; as it worked out, only one of us were in town at any given point during the month.

Uganda Photo Tour

2010-05-04T08:12:00.000-07:00

It was originally my intention to put all of these photos in some sort of grouping that told the story of the Uganda trip, but due to time restraints and the fact that all of images were uploaded randomly, they will appear in no particular order. I did, however, label some of them to give you a brief idea of what exactly it is you're looking at. Enjoy.

After each crusade the local worship team that was taking us around
would preform for the crowds. This is some of the children dancing.

On the way home from Uganda we stopped at a new cathedral
that was being built. It gives you an idea of Ugandan construction.

One of the schools to which we spoke.

Thumbs up!

Capt. Peris at an open air crusade.

"Thumb harps," and a big drum.

Giant thumb harp; little drum

More dancing after a crusade

Joshua preaching at a crusade

A happy kid

Horns.

Packing up the matatu to head home.

Students posing for a pic.

The goat Meshack (Center) was given for preaching.
Rev. Capt Louise is on the far left.

After chickens are given as offerings in a service they are
auctioned off. I bought this sizable bird for our host in Apac.

Dinner being prepared.

Students singing and dancing

Inviting Christ into their hearts during a crusade.

Inside the radio studio

Waiting to be feed for a fourth time (around 2pm)

Down the line: Capt Dan, Capt. Peris, Capt. Agatha, and Capt. Meshack

Reunited: Capt. Monica, a classmate and fellow captain who lived in
Apac, Capt. Peris, and Capt. Benjamin.

The mountains outside of Lira.

Bandas at the foot of one of the many small hills.

Banda, sweet banda

Accidentally artsy night shot at a crusade

One of the markets before a crusade.

Marketplace

Honey, still in the comb; a little scary, very delicious...

Kids praying

Lunch with the Bishop of Northern Uganda.

A group of kids that hung around our place in Lira

Eating some cassava

Another Lira mountain just after sunrise.

Fairy tale hills.

Women dancing for us the night of the mystery dinner in the dark.

Smiling school girl

Ugandan Sky

We visited a rock mining site where women, after rolling huge
boulders down this hill, smash them into smaller and
smaller pieces until they can be sold as gravel.

School visits

On the back of the motorcycle.

The Lira pastor's fields, from which all our food came.

The women preparing breakfast.

Benjamin driving the motorbike up to our place in Lira
(its the one just above his head).

Rev. Capt. Louise, Benjamin, and myself

Another shot of our place on the 1920's British plantation.

The women welcoming us by yelling and shaking leaves...

Early arrival at Church Army Uganda the first morning.

Much needed breakfast inside C.A. Uganda

Capt. Dan accepting his gift from the Mother's Union in Apac

More Lira hills.

Benjamin and Louise getting ready to preach

The Mother's Union just before singing us a song and giving
us our gifts: more quarts of sim-sim paste

Benjamin and I at the Ground breaking ceremony in Apac for a new
Community Bldg. As the ground-breakers, we were told our names will be carved
into the building. An interesting and unexpected addition to the trip...

Rev. Meshack during the ground breaking ceremony

Capt. Monica, shovel in hand

Those who wished to accept Christ for the first time
were to raise their hands.

Piling into the back of the pick-up

The team, save Benjamin, with the generator
and speakers used for the crusades

The Canon and our host in Apac, Capt. Dan, myself, a young student from Kampala,
Rev. Meshack, and the General Secretary, Capt. Mayabi (he
met us for the final two days of the mission).

Benjamin, me, and Capt. Dan

Heading out for a crusade.

Hope you enjoyed this unorganized photo tour. I finished the short video of the trip today as well, so I hope to post that by the end of the week.

The Coast - Mombasa

2010-04-27T02:10:00.000-07:00

I can pretty much sum up my experience at the Kenyan coast in one story...

When I was younger I would wonder around aimlessly Sunday afternoons while my parents met and talked with people in the church. It usually takes about an hour from the end of a service to the Thiemans actually pulling out of the parking lot. Sometimes, some of the other kids and I would play touch football on the lawn outside of Ascension in Oakland, other times I would explore the catacombs of the church letting my imagination run wild. I remember, distinctly, one particular Sunday: I was probably around 12, and it was a hot and humid August day. Annoyed, as was generally the case, that we couldn't just leave after all the people in robes walked up the isle, I asked my mom for the keys to the car. Going around to the back of the church, where the old mini-van sat basking in the mid-day sun, I climbed inside and shut the door. The exact temperature inside remains a mystery, but I'll never forget just sitting there and sweating so profusely. I took off my shirt just to watch the beads of sweat flow. I was initially entertained by the absurd heat, but soon left the car to lay down in the shade some 10 feet away.

Being in Mombasa was like being trapped in that mini-van with an inexplicable bug infestation, a
disproportinate amount of people to seatbelts, and the same impatient frustrations of idle waiting...

I was traveling with the Church Army Academy's Bible Club; about 25 students, and 4 teachers. This was the third time that the trip had been planned, and by this point a number of the parents had pulled their children from the trip and simply requested a refund. The head teacher had more or less ordered that this third attempt actually take place, which I think may have been the reason that we had left (after two hours delay) with almost no plans beyond arrival.

After some eight hours on the road, we arrived at our destination: Ushindi Baptist Church, in the slum of Likoni; a ferry ride away from the city itself. It appeared as though we were not expected, and the accommodations were filthy. We were staying at an orphanage inside the compound, and were literally given the orphans' beds. The orphans were to sleep outside, though heavy rains drew them into the hallways. It was an uncomfortable situation, both for my back and my conscience.

After the long, hot ride, shabby conditions, and extreme humidity, I was looking forward to a nice cold shower to, hopefully, relieve some stress. Finding the washrooms I was somewhat surprised (not much was surprising about the place at this point) to find that the drains for the showers were the toilets themselves. In order to clean yourself you were to stand over the toilet and rinse (see picture below). This was somewhat disturbing, but still manageable. The real problem came when I turned the valve and no water came. Upon inquire I learned little beyond the fact that it continued to not come out, and I was given a basin. Its not uncommon to have to wash using the basin, and I've grown quite accustomed to it over my time here, but it was the first time I had to do so on a toilet. On the way back to my room I dropped my soap in the dirt. I was happy the slip up had not occurred during my washing, given the soap's ultimate resting place...

(You gotta admit they're efficient)

I spent the night sweating, and getting eaten by mosquitoes (there was no net) and other bugs (I later learned I had also been dinner to a throng of bed bugs, an insect, I had always assumed, had been thought up to scare children). For most who have gone camping or accidentally left an un-screened window open at night, the fact that the rage inducing hum of a mosquito flying around one's ear can drive the most sensible individual to madness, is no new information. Because of the sheer number of mosquitoes hovering around me, the sound was no longer a high pitch noise coming and going with the insect, but a constant soundtrack, an inescapable resonance. I tried in vain to defend myself from the blood-sucking enemy for a number of minutes, blindly flailing my hands around my ears in the darkness. But before long my destiny was clear; getting out my iPod, setting in my earphones, and turning up the volume, I surrendered my body to the lanky pests.

The next morning I woke up sweating, showered sweating, got dressed sweating, and ate breakfast sweating. After breakfast we sat around and sweat for a while, and then the students had a meeting with the pastor of the church, he was to teach them about Discipleship. I scratched my bites.

Once the activities began the trip started to change for the better. My mind was no longer focused on the plethora of shortcomings, but on the events, and the journey, as a whole, became much more enjoyable. My morale began to rise.

During the pastor's lesson he came to realize that over half of the students between 4-6th grade had not officially, "Welcomed Jesus into their hearts." The rest of his lesson focused around what it actually meant to do so, and concluded with each student going through with the invitation.

That rather monumental task accomplished, we went to the beach. The sun was violent, and I loaded on the sun screen. The water was warm, unrefreshingly warm, probably around 85-90 degrees. The kids were climbing all over me and I was throwing them all over the place. It was a lot of fun, and marked my first submersion in the Indian Ocean. I taught the kids (and teachers) different swimming strokes (corkscrew was the crowd favorite), and all the troubles of our accommodations melted in the heat.

However, that's not to say there wasn't drama at the beach. While all of the teachers, myself, and the students were swimming, disturbing forces were at work. A group of men between 30-40 years old were surveying the beach for vulnerable children, and our group of 25 with limited supervision was ideal. One of the men approached one of the students that had been separated from the group; for what, one can only speculate. Luckily, the Church Army bus driver was not in the water, but rather watching over the group in its entirety. Noting the odd man, he went over. The teachers were informed, and the men ran away. Later on we shared the story with one of our hosts, who informed us that there had been reports of some dubious characters roaming the beaches, looking for children. Even then we didn't get too many details other than the creepy men have no identification, and are difficult to track; not the most comforting fact.

We showered and ate dinner, and I went to bed with much less animosity towards our living quarters, submitting peacefully to the mosquitoes (and bed bugs).

The next day we again started off with the group discussion on discipleship, and as we waited for the pastor to arrive I taught the kids a song. To anyone whom has ever eaten at the Thieman house, you will be glad to know that there are now 25 Kenyans who could also take part in the singing of the Johnny Appleseed song.

Once the meeting was finished we again went to the beach. This day a great majority of the time was passed burying children in the sand, and molding their resting places into classic sand formations: mermaids, cars, spaceships, boats... a hammer.

This night I woke up so hot, and so sweaty that I got out of bed, walked the 100yds to the washrooms, and took a cold shower at 4am. The water felt glorious.

Wednesday was our tourist day, we were to get up early and leave by 9am so we could get to all our destinations in our limited time. By 8:30 every student was ready in a line, in the glaring sun, at the door of the bus waiting to embark (myself with them). By 9:30, two of the four teachers were ready, by 10:30 all the teachers were ready, but just as they were about to reach the bus the pastor asked if they had a minute to spare. He wanted to work out some of the financials. The students had only been waiting for two hours at this point, so the teachers went to meet with the pastor. I had repeatedly asked them to hurry, mentioning that we will already miss out on some of the planned events, and I was extremely annoyed, both that they were taking so long, and that I felt compelled to urge these people whose job it was to tend to the students to tend to the students. I went into the meeting and again stated that we should leave. The bus pulled out of the compound a little after 11.

Students on the bus....

...and on the ferry

Again, though I was fuming in the morning, as we made our way through the various attractions, my anger dissolved.

We began with Fort Jesus, a portugese fort build in 1593. It was probably the highlight of the trip for me. We were given a tour, and I was able to get some great pictures (below), as well as learn some of the interesting history about Kenya. Ruled by European Kings, as well as Arabian Sultans, Fort Jesus is a testament to the notion that Kenya is a melting pot of East and West.

The outside walls of Fort Jesus with the
Church Army Bus in front

Students on the tour

A pillar out in the ocean (reason unknown...)

Me with some very old Arabian doors.

After leaving the acient bastion, we went to one of Mombasa's famous produce markets. I bought 10 coconuts for my office friends, who were envious of my presence at the beach, but unaware of the living conditions...

From the market we went to Mamba Village (Mamba is swahili for crocodile!). A tourist attraction that seemed more to have a crocodile infestation than a crocodile show. We took the tour and ate lunch on the lawn.

My infestation comment starting to make more sense?

Once we were finished with Mamba Village we did not have enough time to make it to our fourth destination as well as the beach before the sun went down, and the city's notorious Haller Park was unfortunately cut from the agenda.

From the crocs we went to a beach called, Pirates (speaking of which, news of the Pittsburgh Pirates run differential has, unfortunately, reached Kenya). I wasn't able to get any pictures of the beaches because it was advised that we bring literally nothing of value out of the bus, but they were beautiful. Easily the nicest beach I've ever been too. The finest and whitest grains of sand I've ever seen. Its almost like a mud because the grains are so fine, which probaby doesn't sound like a good thing, but I promise it is...

The next day we were supposed to leave at 8am so I was impressed by the fact that we had hit the road by 10. I had my over-under 11am money on the former.

The trip to and from Mombasa was quite a treat in and of itself, it was nice to see the Kenyan countryside, and the road was lined with so many Boabab trees they stop catching your eye a half hour into the trip.

One of many: Baobab

All in all I had a good time at the coast and especially enjoyed playing with the kids at the beach, but I was glad to be back in Nairobi and out of the mini-van. When we returned, I went to my room and instantly fell asleep.

Uganda

2010-04-23T00:52:00.000-07:00

After my week long trip to Uganda the internet was down for a week, and then I left for Mombasa for a week. So I'm a bit over three weeks behind in my posts, and apologize for the absence of updates. I will now begin the "catch-up" process, but before I can begin divulging the events of my trip to Uganda, I must first fill the reader in on the proceedings that took place before I left (over three weeks ago).

Three Fridays ago we had an “Intern Retreat,” whereby all the interns went over to Dave and Lucy’s place to spend the night. We played games (a lot of games), ate food (a lot of food) and watched movies (two…). It was a great bonding experience, much fun, and completely void of sleep.

The next day Festus, George, and I took a matatu into town from Dave and Lucy’s. They also assisted me in finding a place in which I could exchange shillings for US dollars. I would need to buy a visa at the border to enter Uganda, and as a US citizen they require US currency. Once we had completed this action George left to go home, and as I noticed I would miss the lunch at Church Army, took Festus to Big Chicken Inn for a delicious meal. By the time we finished I was feeling pretty exhausted, but, upon entering the Church Army compound, bumped into Benjamin. He reminded me that he, his girlfriend Grace, and I were to go into town for a pre-Easter dinner in an hour and a half. I went up to my room, showered, and took a power nap, before again heading back into town. We met Grace at Pizza Inn, and the feast began.

We ordered two large pizzas, chicken, fries, and three ‘bottomless’ cokes. Grace may have had two pieces of pizza, and the rest was left for Benjamin and I to devour. It was easily the largest amount of food I have eaten in a long time, and a point to refute those who believed I would be losing weight while in Africa…

On Easter Sunday Dave and Lucy picked me up from Church Army and we went to Christ Church. The service was much like any other, and there didn’t seem to be much of the hoopla (at least commercial hoopla) associated with the holiday in the States.

After Church I got Big Chicken in for the second day in a row! (I was going to be away for a week; I needed to store up…) with Lillian, and another girl from church named Harriet. During the meal I came to a realization: if you think our Easter traditions (Easter bunny, etc.) are normal, try explaining them to someone who has never heard of them before. It’s pretty weird…

Sunday night, I went to bed early to try and catch up on some of the sleep I had lost the night of the retreat, and woke up around noon on Monday (we had the day off). I got up, packed for Uganda, and waited to head out.

We met in the board room of the secretariat office for a hearty meal before departing on our 14+ hour journey to Kenya’s western neighbor.

The bus was scheduled to leave downtown Nairobi at 9pm, and after stowing away the luggage, and being waved through a metal detector we were on our way. We made two stops before reaching the boarder at around 5am. The seats, which had levers to recline, refused to do so, and the conditions of the road left any natural urge to sleep unattainable. The man-sized potholes seemed to be carved out just far enough apart from each other for an individual to be jostled from rest at the exact moment he or she comes within its reach.

Now in Ugandan territory we arrived at Church Army Uganda, some minutes after seven in the morning. We were fed a much needed breakfast and given a tour of the facility. Afterwards we boarded a privately hired matatu to continue our trek into the heart of the country where our destination town, Lira, was found; some four and a half hours away.

The road was extremely dusty, but the heat left no option other than the windows to be open wide. My hair was caked with dust, and wiping my forehead made my palms muddy. Along the way I was struck by the beauty of our surroundings. We had left formal homes many kilometers away and the only structures now seen were mud-walled, thatch- roofed “bandas,” or huts; generally huddled in small batches at the foot of one of the many small volcanic mounts. These free standing mini-mountains sprouted all along the horizon, and allowed for the otherwise flat, though green, land to conjure thoughts of fairytale dwellings.

At around what should have been 1:30-2:30pm (I lost track of time), we arrived in Lira, and the university where we were to spend the night. We took our belongings to our room (Benjamin and I were roommates) and went to a classroom for a meeting with the archdeacon of the Lang’o diocese to discuss the mission.

The group was originally supposed to number around 30, and was to then be divided into two in order to cover two different Ugandan regions. We were intended to visit Lira and Apac, each group spending a week in their respective region. However, the group that actually arrived in Uganda consisted of 11 members and was expected to cover the same range…

The team was comprised of eight Church Army Captains, four of whom were reverends, and three members of the secretariat, including myself. A Church Army Captain is an individual that has gone through three years of theological education at Carlile College, a thorough interview process, and has been formally commissioned by the Bishop of Nairobi and the General Secretary of Church Army Africa to, “Positively transform society” (no small task…). The members were: Rev. Capt. Daniel, a jovial middle aged man formerly in charge of organizing all mission activities for Church Army; Rev. Capt. Peter, the eldest member of the team; Rev. Capt. Louise, a female vicar of a church just outside of Mombasa, and the head of the Sunday school for the diocese in which her church belongs; Rev. (soon to be Capt.) Meshack, a cartoonish Tanzanian man wrapping up his third year at Carlile College; Capt. Benjamin, my flatmate, whom you may be surprised to learn is in fact a Captain; Capt. Peris, a young woman who was commissioned in the same class as Benjamin and moonlights as a gospel artist (I got to watch one of her music videos); Capt. Monica another young female captain who works in the same diocese as Peris; Capt. Agatha, a proud member of the Kikuyu tribe, who too works with the last two mentioned captains; Esther, the mastermind behind the mission, as well as the Church Army accountant; Joshua, the executive administrative assistant to the General Secretary; and me, the lowly intern.

After some discussion and debate it was determined that the best course of action would be to spend the first two days, as a group, in Lira, and the last two days in Apac, rather then divide the group with each half spending a week in the respective areas. The matter settled we had our dinner, and promptly fell asleep.

We awoke around 7am the next morning and were subdivided into groups of two (with the exception of my group having three, myself just a camera man). Each group of two (or 3) was then given an area within Lira which they were going to be staying in and evangelizing to. I was in a group with Benjamin and Rev. Capt. Louise. We were the first team to leave and climbed into a small car that was not capable of carrying all our equipment. The driver had to come back to pick up the rest of our luggage after dropping us in our new lodgings. We were sent to an area called, Ngetta. It was a farming region known for some of the most fertile soil in East Africa.

We were setup in an old British cotton plantation founded in the 1920’s. It was currently used as a farming research institute. The reverend in the area had a church on the institutes land, and was an avid farmer himself (being paid less than a dollar/day, it was quite beneficial to be able to produce his own food). Everything we ate during our stay, which was a disturbingly large amount, was grown within 500yds of the table we were eating it on.

Upon arrival a group of screaming women, making noises reminiscent of Xena, the warrior princes, encircled our car, wielding and waving tree branches; the traditional Ugandan welcome. As we got out of the car, each came and kneeled down at our feet, shook our hands and introduced themselves; the traditional Ugandan greeting.

We were taken to our rooms, and once we had settled in, we went out to meet the reverend to learn of our day’s activities. Reaching his homestead we informed that our intended vehicle for the day had broken down, and then were invited to a standard Ngetta breakfast: chicken, beef, potatoes (irish & sweet), cassava (a root that, to me, was like a mix between a potato and a banana), rice, groundnuts, avocados, matoke (a mashed potato-resembling dish made from bananas), delicious fried eggs, and cabbage, all washed down with some freshly squeezed passion fruit juice. Again, all the food was literally grown or raised in the pastor’s backyard.

The reverend was a calm middle aged man, whose parish oversaw the operation of 25 local churches. This means that nearly every day of every month he visits a different church to see how there operations are coming along. He told us of times that he would get up at 5am bike around the district doing ministry work, and come home at 1am, for weeks. It is surely work only possible by one who is called to do so.

After ‘breakfast’ we went outside to discover our new mode of transport: Motorbikes. Each of us had a driver and we had no choice but to hop on the back. We road about 10 miles weaving and turning and dodging people along the dusty dirt roads, before reaching our first destination. It was a Catholic elementary school. All of the pupils had been assembled underneath a large mango tree, and were anxiously awaiting the foreign speakers to come preach. We got off our bikes and I got out the camera. I was getting some wide angle establishment shots of the students when I heard someone yell, “Hey you! White man! Stop!” I turned to see a man standing with the principle, our drivers, the Reverend, Benjamin, and Louise. (I had separated myself from the group in order to get my desired shots.) I came over to learn that although the meeting had been cleared by the school board and the principle, the leader of the Parents Committee (the man who had yelled at me), objected whole heartedly to the session. He refused Anglicans to speak to the Catholic children, and ordered us to leave the premise. The principle came and apologized to us for the man’s actions, but said perhaps we should go. Having no desire to argue to preach, we got back on our bikes and were off to the next school.

What started off dubiously, proved to be largely successful by the end of the day. We went on to visit four other schools, often eating meals similar to our breakfast. Benjamin would preach powerfully to the older grades, while Louise who specialized in children ministry spoke with those that were younger. I did my best to capture all of the activities. During each of the speakers’ closing remarks they would do an “Alter Call,” asking any students (or teachers) present that had not yet received Jesus Christ in their hearts, as their personal savior, if they were willing to do so. The results were inspiring. I would estimate 30-35 students per school would go to be prayed over and invite Jesus to take control of their lives.

At some of the gatherings, students would prepare songs, or dances for us, and each meeting began with a thorough introduction. Every teacher introduced on the side of the school, every member of the entourage introduced on our side (including the drivers). When I would go up to speak, telling the students my name, where I come from, what I am doing in Africa, and encouraging them to open their hearts and minds to the preaching that was to follow, I was consecutively received with hilarity. Hardly any of the students could understand me, stating that 80% of my words and syllables are “swallowed,” and when I finished there would be a short pause before the group erupted into laughter. I required an English to English translator.

Getting back to our rooms at the institute I took a much needed shower. If I thought the matatu’s dust from the drive the previous day was bad, driving around on the back of a motorcycle through rural Uganda was worse. The water ran off me a dark brown for a good two minutes. After my shower, I did some reading and passed out.

Waking up confused (I had forgotten I was in Africa much less Uganda), I searched the room for clues. It came to me. I got dressed, met with the others, ate another feast the locals call breakfast, and we were again off on motorcycles to visit a fresh set of schools.

It is worth mentioning that any time we arrived in any location we were met by screaming women holding tree branches. One woman seemed to somehow pop out from behind every building at which we arrived. I’m not quite sure how it was accomplished, but I never ceased to be amazed.

We went around to about the same number of schools on the second day as we did the first, and were met with about the same level of success. God was at work, and I was getting great footage of it.

That night one of the church families had us over to their place for dinner. They sang us traditional welcome songs, some shared their testimonies, and they fed us a delicious meal. What it consisted of, however, remains a mystery. By the time all of the stories and singing came to an end the sun had gone down, and we were left with no light. We piled food on to our plates, and ate in faith. The result was a delicious, odd mixture of textures.

By the end of the meal I was exhausted from all of the travels and eating, and we were taken back to our rooms to sleep.

The following day we breakfasted, and were on our way to the bishop of northern Uganda’s home where we would take lunch before making our way to the region of Apac (pronounced Apach).

We ate yet another disconcertingly large meal, and it was suggested that the bishop had cooked a stork rather than a chicken, citing the size of the bones as key evidence for the accusation.

We took the bishop’s bus for the hour drive to Apac, dropping off a preacher here and there at schools along the way. They would join back up with us later.

The days that followed in Apac were about the same as those spent in Lira; eat, visit a school, eat, visit a school, eat, have lunch, visit a school, eat, and so on. But in Apac our nights were quite different from those in Lira. Here we had what were termed, “Open Air Crusades.” We lugged speakers, soundboards, generators, and many meters of cable to the various local gathering spots; usually some form of a market, and simply started preaching. I was amazed by the success of the crusades and the amount of people that actually stopped to listen. I couldn’t help but think how I would have reacted differently to such a commotion if it took place in the States…

Again there were alter calls, and many continued to come and welcome Jesus into their hearts.

Benjamin was to go on to a morning radio show early on the second day in Apac. He got up at 5:30am, and I wasn’t sleeping well, so I joined him to film the broadcast. We went to the station, and I filmed Benjamin’s bit, half awake, half asleep, when I heard something about America admist the language I did not understand. I arose from my quazi-slumber just in time to recognize the mic in front of me. Luckily the standardized introduction I had been using at the countless number of schools we had visited over the past couple of days was now burnt into my memory and I mindlessly recited it, tacking on an open invitation to join us at this particular evening’s crusade. The crisis of screwing up on a live radio broadcast averted we left to join the others for breakfast.

There was a running joke between myself and the captains on the trip that before each school presentation they would tell me that I was going to have to preach. So when Saturday night came, and I was informed I would be giving the sermon at one of the local churches the following morning, I laughed it off.

About an hour before we were to leave for the church it became clear it wasn’t a joke this time, and I frantically flipped through the gospels searching for a good topic. Settling on Matthew 7:15-23, I quickly prepared a lesson. When the service began (at 7am!) there were three people in the congregation and I was glad, and even laughed to myself that I had worried about it. By 7:15 there was over 50 members present. I gave the sermon and everything went surprisingly well. It was however, the first time I had seen a live chicken given as a tithe.

After the service I was graciously given three large eggs, and a quart of sim-sim paste (a relative of peanut butter made from sesame seeds), for my lesson.

After church we, of course, ate, and then came the weeks culminating activity: the final open air crusade. The one that had been promoted at every other event we had taken part in; it was to take place at the main church for the Lang’o dioceses. Around 300 people came, and it was one of the most powerful events I have ever attended.

The Holy Spirit was practically tangible, God's presence was known, and over 60 people came to Christ.

I captured the whole event and eagerly await being able to post segments (as well as some of the more than 850 pictures that were taken during the trip).

The next day we left Apac at 7am. We arrived in Nairobi the following day at 5am traveling nearly straight through. I arrived in my room at 6am. It was an amazing trip, and one I will not be forgetting any time soon… especially the amount of food consumed.

Due to the difference in time at 6am in Nairobi on April 13^th, 2010, it was one hour from my girlfriend, Maria’s 21^st Birthday (11pm April 12^th, 2010) in State College, Pa. I called her and wished her a wonderful twenty-first, and we were eventually disconnected due to the exhaustion of credit on my phone, just before my little sister was knocking on her door, with my gift (as was prearranged). Once, the phone call was over, I took a shower and slept the great majority of the day.

On Wednesday I had the Somali Service. Unfortunately, however, the number, again, was as small as possible without being nonexistent; the lonely digit, 1. It was, though, a quite informative meeting. Sarah (mother of the young translator, Abdi), the only Somali in attendance and I simply had a discussion and I learned the story of both how she came to Kenya, and her faith.

It was 1992 and she had just learned that she was pregnant. War was starting to break out in Somalia. One day some thugs came and robbed her and her husband’s store. Unsatisfied with the amount of money in the register they insisted more was hidden. Upon her husband’s denial, he was shot dead. It was then that Sarah decided she must leave the country. About eight months later she climbed into a small boat with too many other passengers and drifted out into the Indian Ocean. After 11 days at sea all food and water had been depleted. On day 14, a U.N. boat discovered them, brought them on board, and gave them food and drink. 10 days later her son, Abdi, was born in a Kenyan refugee camp.

They moved from camp, to camp. Eventually a Ugandan woman, who had befriended Sarah began telling her about Christianity. Over time Sarah’s heart came to accept Christ. She began teaching others in the camps, while Abdi attended school. Eventually her actions became known to those that did not think so highly of such activity. They came to her house, burned it down, beat her, and then had her jailed. Abdi, unaware, came home to a pile of smoldering ash, with his mother nowhere to be found. He stayed with a neighbor until she was released. Sarah made up her mind to leave the camp, and traveled to Nairobi where they currently reside, though officially they are not permitted to do so. Thus making it difficult, if not impossible, for Abdi, who is now 18, to attend school as his proper documentation remains at the camp.

We prayed together, and left.

Still Traveling

2010-04-19T02:50:00.000-07:00

Hello,

Just wanted to let everyone know that I am alive. I made it back safely from a great trip to Uganda. I wrote a long blog post about it but won't be able to put it up until I am back at Church Army. I am currently in Mombasa along the Indian Ocean coast. Look for new posts to come this Friday. Thanks

April Fool's Week

2010-04-01T06:56:00.000-07:00

Welcoming Party:
Last Sunday after church Dave and Lucy had Lillian, Asumpta, and I over for what would turn out to be my "Welcome to Kenya Party" (it was supposed to have taken a place a couple months ago, but got delayed). Also, a young man by the name of Charles, who is now staying with the Chaves attended. Charles is a Kenyan who had spent the last six months as a missionary in the U.K. and Ireland, and before that took part in the New Beginnings Internship Program. He returned this past Saturday. Lucy made us dinner, then we watched 'The Pursuit of Happyness', after which I learned that the get together was my welcoming party. It was great food, and a fun time!

Terrific Tuesday:
There is a restaurant here in Nairobi called "Pizza Inn," and on Tuesdays they offer a buy-one-get-one-free special; aptly titled Terrific Tuesday. After work Lillian, Charles, two of the interns, Suezette and George, and I took advantage of the deal. The pizza was delicious, and a taste for sore buds. It was really good, and half off! However, once we finished our feast the sky was black, but it was only 6pm (the sun sets at 7pm year-round in Nairobi). There was a huge storm coming. It began to drizzle. We caught the first matatu we could but Lillian, Suezette, and I had to switch just a couple of minutes down the road. By the time we got out a solid rain was falling. About 5 minutes and 25 full matatus later, it was a down pour, and we remained huddled beneath a palm tree at the same intersection. Resigned to the idea of finding any space on the matatus we decided to make a break for it in the rain. We made it safely back to Church Army, but not before again being soaked through with mud and water. The pizza was definitely worth it.

Prayer Day:
Today was the official Church Army Prayer Day, as it also marked the first day of break for the Academy. All of the teachers, and the majority of the Church Army Staff met in the school's cafeteria to thank God for the work that He has done in the school, and to ask Him for further intercession. It was full of prayer (obviously) and worship, and it was an overall very moving morning.

April Fool's:
After the prayer service I met with the interns to discuss how they were coming along in a Purpose Driven Life. Dave was sitting in on the meeting. As we were coming to a close Suezette informed us that we either had to stop reading the Purpose Driven Life or she was quitting the internship. She said she didn't believe anything the author said and that the book was horrible. Nobody really knew what to say, and Dave tried to calm her down, which ultimately led to her storming out of the room. Before long she returned with a large April Fool's smile, and announced her deceit. It was quite a performance.

Easter Weekend:
I have Friday and Monday off, so this will be the last post I will be able to make for a week. Tomorrow all of the interns and I are going over to Dave and Lucy's for an 'Intern Retreat' which should be an entertaining and bonding experience. I will then be attending Christ Church for the Easter Service. I will write about the experience upon my return.

Uganda Mission:
On Monday I will be leaving for Northern Uganda for a week. We will be taking a 12-14 hour bus ride through East Africa before arriving in Lira, Uganda. Lira is an area that has been ravaged by the power struggles of Ugandan Rebels and government forces. Many of the people have lived through many vicious horrors. The rebels are known for killing women, children, and the elderly. They often cut off lips and ears as a calling card of their indifference. We will be visiting schools and houses in the region in the hopes of bringing the word of God to the people. At night we will hold open-air crusades, trying to bring people off the streets to listen to lessons on Christ. My main charge will be to capture and document these activities. I am looking forward to this great experience, and am sure I will have much to share upon my return. Please pray for a safe and successful trip. Thank you.

I will be again posting in a little over a week. Have a wonderful Easter!

Internship Blog

2010-03-31T02:42:00.000-07:00

Suezette one of the Church Army Interns has been charged with the duty of creating and maintaining the New Beginnings Internship Blog. Feel free to check it out by visiting:

new-beginnings-internship.blogspot.com

George, Eunita and I are about to head over to the Somali service. I should be putting up a larger post tomorrow or Friday of the week's happenings...

Rains

2010-03-25T04:56:00.000-07:00

Every Sunday at Christ Church there is a segment of the service which is devoted to welcoming new visitors. The guests stand, introduce themselves, say where they are from, and the congregation then sings them a welcome song. It is an occurrence I have grown quite accustom to since it was first sung to me a couple of months ago. This particular Sunday there was a South African man who is currently living in North Carolina in attendance. After the service while everyone was taking tea I went over to talk with him about the States. While we were doing so one of the Somali Christians, Mohiedin, came over to say hello. When Mohiedin mentioned that he was Somali we learned that the reason David (the South African) was attending the service was to learn of the Somali outreach program.

A little later the three Somalis who had attended the service, along with Dave, Rev. Rachel and I met with David to discuss what had been going on. David works with an organization called International Justice Mission (IJM), who has done extensive work with Somali Christians. In fact they have been so successful with Somali Christians that they have been forced to repeatedly move their office and can no longer put up a sign, or freely give out their organization's address, for fear of attack by Muslim Somalis.

IJM is also responsible for bibles printed with Koran covers, and stylized after the Koran; an effective, controversial, and, when discovered, potentially very deadly enterprise.

He had come in the hope of organizing a 'hush-hush' networking system between churches working with the Somali refugees. There is currently absolutely nothing in place for such activities and the only way in which some organizations or churches are aware of the others is through the Somalis themselves. We talked with him for about 45min, just discussing our specific situation, and how we have tried to go about ministering to these displaced people.

After the meeting we learned that one of the Somalis who was in attendance had just recently become a Christian. Therefore, she was also just recently disowned by her family, and thrown from her house. She had showed up at Christ Church on Sunday morning carrying a small bag, filled with her only possessions. She had no place to stay, and nowhere to go. One of the Somali mothers, Sarah, whose son, Abdi, does the translations for us during the Somali service, offered to take in the young girl named, Kedra. Here too, however, was a problem. Sarah had recently been locked out of her own home by her landlord in the Kangemi slum, for failure to pay her rent. She owed 600 shillings (under $10) and had been locked out for the past two nights. David offered to give her the money, under the understanding that he was a one time visitor and the Somalis could not expect the same treatment in the future.

The issues temporarily settled, Kedra went home with Sarah and Abdi who would soon be allowed back into their home.

After two weeks of missed Somali services, Dave could again not attend, but this week three of the interns and I made the trip (Festus, Suezette, and George). I gave the lesson on Matthew 25, the story of the 5 talents, and the then each intern broke into small groups with two Somalis and further discussed the verses.

It was great to see the interns interacting so well with the Somalis, and I am excited with the possibility of creating an even larger community with the Somalis and further integrating them into the Sunday service.

Starting next week the Somalis will meet for a half hour after the service and practice singing worship songs in Somalian to preform for the Sunday congregation. Our hope is that as the Christ Church community becomes more aware of the Somali ministry we will be able to secure more funds to begin the micro-loan, micro-business plans.

As we were leaving the Church to take tea, the clouds looked extremely ominous. They were nearly back and the wind told of storms to come. Despite the interns pleas to leave before the rain we stayed for tea, and made it into town before the rains began. As we had walked half way to where we were to catch our second matatu (on the other side of the city) a light ran was falling, by the time we were with in 200 feet of the matatu stage it was a torrential down pour. We ran and jumped into the first matatu we could. The streets were flooded within minutes, and we waited for the matatu to fill up, the majority of other passengers huddled under shelters unwilling to make the sprint to the van. About 30min later, the matatu was full and we were off. spraying muddy water about 4ft in every direction.

I hopped out at Church Army and sprinted into the office. The rain drops were about the size of marbles. The parking lot was a pond. It poured for the next hour like this. The office's ceiling began to leak and water was dripping on the computers so we moved them, and then I decided to make the 100 yard scurry back to my room. Every inch of me was muddy and soaked by the time I walked through my door, the compound was flooded, the ceilings in the dorm too were leaking. It was pretty exciting.

Pictures from Kibera

2010-03-23T06:20:00.000-07:00

Last Friday Dave and I went to Kibera to scope out the location of our next shoot. I finalized the script today, and we will begin filming this coming Friday. These are a couple of the pictures I got while there.

The classroom.

The seats.

The students.

Little chicks following their mother across the gutter.

Sewage system...

The mud walls of Kibera

New Doc

2010-03-19T07:04:00.000-07:00

The past couple of days have been very busy. There was a Church Army Africa board meeting on Wednesday and Thursday so the heads of Church Army Sudan, Malawi, Kenya, etc. were all gathered together to meet. Dave had to attend the meeting, and I was more or less left in charge of the interns. It went very well though, they are a great group of bright and talented young Kenyans, and I really look forward to seeing the work they accomplish during their time here. They are each in the process of setting up blogs, so I will be posting their links in the "Link" area to the left once they are up and running. One of the interns, (as I mentioned in the last post) Festus, has been working on a slideshow that I will put up too once he finalizes it.

Today, Dave and I left the interns to their own devices and traveled back to Kibera (the largest slum in Kenya) to scope out the setting of another documentary we will begin shooting next Friday. The Missions in the City documentary is not yet complete (it too will be posted at some point) but we are waiting to shoot some interviews, and get a couple of other shots before we can finalize the project, and will be working on this new documentary in the mean time.

Getting off the matatu we sat on the steps of Holy Trinity, the largest and most established Anglican church in the slum that rests along the road which doubles as the divider of informal and formal settlements, and waited to meet our guide, Capt. Moses. As we waited the kids from the adjoining school rushed over to shake our hands and ask us how we were. We also got to talk to some of the church staff, and I worked on my Swahili. Once Moses arrived we walked over to Patmos, the church and school which will be the topic of the forthcoming documentary.

In mid 2007 a well to do couple from the UK came and visited the Church/School and was moved by the horror that some members faced in the post election violence (houses burned, businesses looted, people assaulted and beaten, etc.). They had initially intended on helping the specific families who were effected, but in time felt the burden to help the entire ministry. Patmos was using the same building for both the Church and the school; so no church events could take place during the week, and no school events could take place on the weekend. In order to right this issue the couple from the UK purchased a string of rooms a little further up the hill from the Church/school's current location. They bought seven rooms in all, and so far have been able to turn one into a class room... they bought it 2 years ago... The tenants that lived in the rooms when they first acquired the building have simply refused to leave (save one individual), and there is little the church can do to evict them.

There is a slew of unfortunate events that led to this situation. The land on which the entire informal settlement sits is technically government land that no one is legally allowed to live on. Because of this a new standard arose in the area that, although no one can own the land, people can own the structures that rest on it. The Kikuyu, the largest tribe in Kenya, historically were the landlords of the slum which was home to mainly Luo, and Luhya peoples (these opposed groups just so happened to be the two warring sides during the election violence as well; Kikiuyu vs. Luo). A Luo politician then decreed that no one in Kibera had to pay rent, as the landlords did not own the land. Obviously spawning a whole new series of catastrophes. Around the same time Patmos bought the buildings at issue, another church was facing the same struggles. They, however, forced the tenants to leave, and by the end of the week the building was burnt to the ground. A tactic richer churches have taken is to offer to pay rent for the tenants in a different location for 6 months, but Patmos can't afford this option. Thus the situation remains as it has for the past 2 years; tenants stay for free, no classrooms for the students. The Church is praying to change the hardened hearts of the stubborn tenants, and appears to have few other options.

The UK couple is commissioning us to make the documentary of the stated issue and other's surrounding the Patmos ministry, and hopes to show the film across Britain to raise support and funds for the small church in the slum.

While in Kibera I got a couple moving pictures of the conditions in which these peoples live, and hope to post them too in the week to come.

Intern Arrival

2010-03-16T07:46:00.000-07:00

This Monday marked the start of the "New Beginnings Internship Program 2010." Each year Church Army takes a group of recent high school graduates as interns, and trains them during what is called in Kenya, their "Gap year." The year between college and high school which is usually just taken off while waiting for the results of the SATs Kenyan counterpart. Often this year off leads to crime, drug abuse, idleness, and the deterioration of the students ability to dream; opting for a job at the body shop rather than continuing ones education. This term there are four interns: Festus, Eunita, George, and Suezette. They are all very eager for the program to officially kick off (which it did this morning) after two days of orientation.

I am co-mentoring one of the interns , Festus, and leading the group through the 'Purpose Driven Life.' Festus is interested in video production, and I will be assisting him in creating a slideshow with Vegas using the photos we took during an intern scavenger hunt.

The Interns & I; from left to right, Suezette, George, me, Festus, and Eunita

Other than the excitement surrounding the new arrivals I have mainly been working on my latest assignment: researching film school curriculum and syllabuses. The Carlile College School of Business (Church Army's adjacent University) has decided to open a School of Mass Communication, and it has fallen to the Church Army Production Department to create the curriculum and course outlines. It is pretty interesting work to design a college level classes, and definitely a new experience.

I will be approaching the two month marker for my time in Kenya in a couple of days, which is pretty hard to believe. It hardly feels like a week!

I talked to my girlfriend, Maria, Monday who had just returned from her own mission trip to the Dominican Republic. She had spent her spring break working at a medical clinic on the island shared with the earthquake devastated Haiti. The trip had gone well, save the 8hr trip home which was converted into a 44hr one, and the fact that she may had accidentally drank some of the water in the shower just before leaving which necessitated a run to the bathroom every couple of minutes...

I had a visitor in my room for a couple of nights, a friendly, speedy, little gecko. He lived mainly on the South wall, and, it is my hope, did a number on the various insects also calling my room home. He was about 5-6in long an inch think, moved like lightening, but more or less just sat there suction-cupped to the wall. I think he left though, I haven't seen him around in a couple of days.

Last night marked the second week in a row for the late night noise worship in the chapel across from my room. I again awoke around 1am to the absurdly loud sound of clapping and all-out yelling. Sleeping has been an issue of late, but I continue to attempt to remain patient and hope to make it up tonight...

Work Week

2010-03-09T23:40:00.000-08:00

Again I have been rather delayed in my posts for the week, mainly because I have been busy doing office work, and because doing office work doesn't exactly make for the most exciting blog posts. However, there were a couple of potentially quasi-captivating points of interest.

On Sunday, Lillian and I went to Christ Church for mass. It was Lucy and Dave's 1 year anniversary, and they were in the midlands to celebrate. So, around 10am I went out to the matatu stage and waited for Lillian's call, telling me which matatu she was on, moments before I would have to hop aboard. This accomplished we made it to Christ Church together and on time.

After church the two of us again ate at the Big Chicken Inn, which was, needless to say, amazing. I got two of the specials (2 drinks, 1/2 chicken, and 2 fries) rather than my usual one; I was hungry. After lunch we stopped by the Masai Market. The Masai are probably the most famous tribe in Kenya, though, relatively speaking, one of the smallest. They are famous for their red cloth garb, sagging ear lobes, and herding lifestyle. The majority of Kenyan crafts and paintings are of these Masai warriors. This market is basically a parking lot filled with their numerous crafts and souvenirs. Lillian wanted to buy new sandals and it is a very interesting place to walk around and look at all the local crafts (wood carvings, stone carvings, paintings, sewing, etc.) so I had no objection. Aside from getting approached by nearly every vendor, Mzungus are traditionally big spenders, it was entertaining to explore all the different arts.

As we caught the matatu home there was a bit of a confrontation. The conductor going around and collecting money as they do, did not give me back my proper change; charging me double the rate. It is not uncommon for the matatu conductors to attempt to dupe those they expect to be tourist, but usually smile when called out and return the proper change. Though it can get old, its generally not too offensive. This day however, the conductor had began with "Hey, you worthless man, give me your money," (as translated by Lillian) and when proper change was asked for the conductor responded, "I don't know this man, he is not one of us, he is not Kenyan, he does not pay our prices." To this point I had understood little that had taken place, as they were speaking in both Swahili and at times, the conductors native tongue. I was under the impression that it was more of the conductors assumption that I had money enough as a white man, and it couldn't hurt for him to try to get some extra from me, and saw little personal attack in the circumstances. Lillian, however, was growing furious, indicating later that man was not just trying to get some extra money, but was merely racist, and had used very derogatory language. She made a big enough scene calling the man a, "common thief," that he eventually gave the proper change, and we got off at the next stage to make a point to the rest of the passengers. Lillian was fuming, when we got off, "There is nothing I hate more than tribalism (racisim)." She was much more angry than I, but I appreciated her concern and stance. It was these "tribalist" beliefs that had led to the murder of over 1,000 people in the 2007 post-election violence, which makes clear her rage for the man's actions. She caught a matatu back to her neighborhood and I walked the short distance remaining.

As I said earlier, Monday and Tuesday were filled with office work, designing ads, DVD labels and covers, and a quick edit of the safari video. I won't bore you with the details.

Last night though, there was a service in the chapel, about 20ft from my window, that went on from about 10:30pm until 4:30am. And it did not simply take place, but there was chanting, yelling, and all sorts of praise until 4:30AM! A circumstance that put me in a rather odd place. On one hand I wanted to go over, kick in the doors, and yell, "What is wrong with you people? It's 4 in the morning on a Tuesday!"On the other hand it was a church service and they were worshiping God, which should be a good thing right? Not to mention I still don't know the reason or motivation behind the late night service; which very well may even further justify its existence beyond a desire to simply worship. I tried to use the experience to practice giving up such "annoyances" to God. During my fellowship in Nairobi we've talked about how every situation is a potential circumstance by which one can grow closer to God; as though every moment of our day is a pop-quiz. We can choose to act one way or another (or, more often than not, many other ways as well) and some choices are inevitably going to be more virtuous than others. It is an idea that sounded great in discussion but was another entirely when faced with the annoying situation. However, I managed to resist the initial temptation of abrasive confrontation and popped in my headphones, drowning out the noise with some Clair de Lune, and eventually managing to sleep. Perhaps, at some point, I will respond by joining them, but I don't believe I'm quite there yet on this personal journey...

Bible Smugglers

2010-03-04T05:51:00.000-08:00

Between power outages, and a busy schedule, I have been forced to fit the entire week's activities into this single post. I'll try to keep it somewhat brief...

Monday:
The majority of the day went by without power, though through the assistance of the generator I was able to do some editing of the Missions in the City documentary. After work I played ping-pong with Sarah, and finally managed to best her; 5 games to 2!

Tuesday:
The power was again out in the morning, but had been restored by lunch. Dave wasn't feeling well, and took the day off. I had the weekly office meeting in the morning where we discuss wealth from a biblical perspective, and we read Proverbs 31:10 this week. "A Wife of Nobel Character," she is quite the role model to say the least... I again faced off against Sarah after work, and this time she resumed her dominance, winning 5 of 9 games.

Wednesday:
I learned many valuable things this day, one of which being that "Jenga" (as in the game) is Swahili for, "to build."

After my Swahili lesson Dave and I sat in traffic for about two hours before arriving at Christ Church for the Somali service; an hour and a half late. Apparently this particular Wednesday was one of the handful of days out of the year that the police decide to enforce the driving and matatu laws, essentially stopping all movement of traffic. By the time we entered the church there was only one Somali present, Hirsi. Hirsi is the 25 year old male, who was telling us two weeks ago about the contradictory Somali methods, such as marking each child with a cross at birth. Today, he graced us with his life story:

Born in the captial city, Mogadishu, Hirsi was obviously raised Muslim. All he knew of Christianity was that it was a "pagan" religion. However, there are still large beautiful churches in the city, built solidly, with large stones by the Italians many years ago. They show the scars of numerous attempts to destroy them but still they stand. Recognizing the structures will not be falling anytime soon, the main central Cathedral was unceremoniously converted into a market. At around 17, Hirsi was working in a body shop, fixing up cars, when al-Shabab (which is Arabic for "youth") came to the shop owner and, in effect, bought all of the young workers. Hirsi, and his co-workers were taken to an al-Qaeda like traning camp (al-Qaeda means "Center of attack"). He was trained to deconstruct guns and put them back together so that the dismantled pieces could be hidden through out his wardrobe.

He had, as most of his contemporaries had, memorized the entire Quran. He said that he realized the leaders warping the book's words to fit their agenda, and though some took it as gospel, he grew increasingly weary of the teachings. He mentioned that al-Shabab tried to stop people from reading the Quran, to listen only to their interpretations of it. Questions were not allowed, and even punished. His time at the camp culminated on a night when he and 50 other youth were to raid and essentially slaughter a village outside of the city that was resisting al-Shabab and their teachings. He fled that night into the forest, and would be unable to return to the city (for at least some time), for fear that other members would recognize him. He made it to the border of Kenya, but with no papers, he was unable to cross. He was forced to spend a little under two weeks living in the forest along the border, when UN helicopters spotted the make shift camp he was staying at, and were able to transport him and some others he was with into a Kenyan refugee camp. Living at the refugee camp he again found work in a body shop.

Some time later while working on a car, he heard a man call his name. It was one of the leaders he was trained under while with al-Shabab. The man was cordial, asked him how he had been, wished him well and told Hirsi to accompany him to his office. Hirsi, replied that it was good to see him, and that he had to finish the job he was doing and then he would immediately come over. The man, acquiesced, and left. Hirsi immediately ran from the camp, leaving everything he had acquired during his time there.

He made it to a second refugee camp where he stayed for a short period of time, but in 2004 there was a large flood, that forced him to move to a third camp.

It was in this third camp, that he absent mindedly accepted a new testament hand out from a passing gentleman. He was curious and began to read it. He was befriended by a Christian Somali and began to attend church with the man. He left the Muslim faith, and became Christian. He was inspired and used his extensive knowledge of the Quran to convert more Somalis. Pointing out contradictions like verse stating, "Jesus is the light," and later, "God is the light." He also utilized Mohammad's statement that he himself could not preform miracles for he was only human, though the book states many of Jesus' miraculous works. He was beaten, hospitalized, and jailed, but he continued to convert others. A church was built in the heart of the refugee camp; originally a rough bundle of sticks, and now a stone structure. The U.N. took him to Nairobi to be registered and receive official alien papers. He moved into a slum on the west side of the city, and when then U.N. heard of his faith, they warned him to stay out of Eastleigh (the "Little Somali" of Nairobi). He listened to their warning for a couple of days but grew restless, stating, "Faith without action is death," and went into Eastleigh to preach. He would sometimes be successful, or at least get people to begin thinking about what he said, sometimes they would simply yell, in Somalian, "Allah beats him," which causes every Somali within earshot to come and beat whoever the phrase was directed towards. At this he laughed, saying the phrase again and, "You hear this, you run!"

He takes numerous mission trips a year into the refugee camps, preaching to the new Somali arrivals, and meeting with his old converted friends.

This month though, he is going on a different mission, going further than the refugee camps. He is going back to Mogadishu, back to Somalia, for the first time since he fled. He is going with 75 Bibles written in Somalian; possessing one is a crime punishable by death, "If they find the Bibles, I will not be coming back..."

He and one other man are making the journey. They wrap the bibles and sew the bibles into an assortment of different clothes, and somehow manage to transport the Bibles in a different bus than their own. Upon arriving in Mogadishu they get their "luggage" and seek out the underground Christian society. He says that he already has a number of contacts and intends to distribute the forbidden Bibles to three different groups, 25 each. He will also preach to the groups, and try to help them grow in their faith. He stated how even he himself, loves to hear people lecture on Christianity. It is still so new and fresh to them. He was thirsty for knowledge, and believes that the Christians of Mogadishu are as well. He seemed excited and undaunted; he was, despite the circumstances, going home. I asked him if he was nervous and he simply answered, "God will be with us."

He asked for our prayers, and I ask for yours, for him, as well. He leaves within the month.

On Safari

2010-03-02T02:07:00.000-08:00

This past Saturday was spent, for the most part, leisurely. I woke up around 10, to the sound of swooshing water; Grace (Benjamin's fiancee) was mopping the common room. I got dressed and assisted her and Benjamin in the cleaning. I was responsible for the kitchen, and Benjamin was stuck with the bathroom.

I then spent the afternoon reading 'unChristian' until around 4, when I was scheduled to Skype home. I talked to my family for a while, and then to Maria. I ate dinner then watched the weekly Saturday night movie, this time being Disney's Invincible...

On Sunday, as usual, Dave and Lucy came to pick me up, but rather than take me to Christ Church, we went to a small independent evangelical church in the slum of Kawangare. Just down the "road" from the Light and Power center, the church is lead by a good friend of Dave's, and he had asked Dave to give the sermon. Venturing across a small pond of sludge (it had rained pretty hard Saturday night) we entered the tin roofed chapel. About 8ft wide and 20ft long, the structure was lined with wooden pews that sat four a row, divided by the aisle. Dave and I found seats in the back, but the Reverend gestured that we sit in the front row (while preaching) and we indiscreetly moved forward. Dave gave the sermon, using the crackling microphone, that may in fact have made it harder to hear what was being said, and then Lucy and her sister (who had also come along) sang a duet. After church we walked over to the good Reverend's house, where we were served Fanta, and a lunch complete with chapti (my favorite), stew, and rice.

Finishing lunch we said our asante's (thank you's) and our kwaheri's (good byes), and all piled into the old Toyota SUV to begin the drive to the Nairobi National Park; the only Safari in the world within city limits. About 5 miles from city center, the park encompasses 44 sq. miles of natural wildlife habitat. When facing east the city's skyline is still visible, facing west, you might as well be hundreds of miles from civilization.

As we crossed the threshold into the park, Ki-Ki (Lucy's sister) and I climbed out through the sunroof on to the top of the car, allowing for 360 degrees of visibility. The first animals we saw were the enormous Cape Buffalo a group of four were split on either side of the road, lazily crazing while watching the car drive past. We stopped to get pictures and as they moved closer the girls got scared, and pleaded with Dave to continue. Next we saw a small of pack of ostriches pecking sporadically at the ground with their awkwardly long and lanky necks. We saw the eyes, ears, and nostrils of some shy hippos (that never wanted to fully breech the surface), and caught our first glimpse of a Giraffe trotting along the peak of a small hill, silhouetted against the horizon.

We continued along and managed to see a mother and child rhino disappear into the bush. I guess it was a trend to just steal a glimpse of the animals, for the leopard too, managed to elude us after only a quick appearance (but, leopards, evidentially, are the rarest species to be seen, so we considered it a victory). We saw two warthogs (at different times), each in a hurry to get somewhere. They would just come sprinting along the plain and disappear into the bushes, no time to look around, their bright white tusks bouncing up and down with their disproportionally large heads. We saw so many variations of gazelle-like animals (I'll have to look up what they're each called), that we no longer stopped to look at them as they strutted around, showing off their large, fantastically shaped antlers that went shooting in every direction. There was a plethora of colorful birds, all different sizes and shapes, and a number of small monkeys, but we were eluded by the lion.

It was the first time that I really felt like I was in Africa. In most ways Nairobi is just like living in any other big city, but out on the plains (even on this small Safari) there was no mistake about which continent I have been residing on.

As we left a beautifully patterned Giraffe, taller than I had imagined, came within about 20ft of the car, ducking down to pick some leaves off a 12ft high bush; glancing nervously in our direction every now and again to ensure we wanted nothing more than photos.

Somali Struggles

2010-02-26T03:27:00.000-08:00

The majority of my time since the last post has been spent editing the 'Mission in the City' video. The documentary is coming along well. I have about three and half minutes (more or less) finalized and am currently working on deciphering which segments of the various interviews to use. I am hoping by the end of next week to have a first draft complete to submit to the Center for Urban Missions to revise.

Although I was simply in the office most of the week, the Somali struggles once again became painfully evident.

On Wednesday at the service we were missing two of the younger men that had been there the week before, but gained an older man in his mid-sixties (5 Somalis in total). The meeting went well, as we again utilized the open-forum setting rather than a formal service, and discussed a number of verses from Ecclesiastes, and how they applied to business development. After the discussion we shared some tea, during which the older gentleman, who was quite a character, shared his testimony:

He was baptized in 1958, by Franciscan brothers in Somalia. His father was the care taker of the brotherhood's grounds. A couple of the members took an interest in the welfare of the young Somali boy. They taught him Italian, "You know? Mafia and pasta," and taught him the ways of Christianity. He was, from that point on, a Catholic, until he fled to Kenya and joined the Anglican Church. Before then, however, he had a wife and a son in Somalia. Both were Christian, and both were murdered by Somali Muslims. He remarried a Muslim woman and convinced her to convert to Christianity, a fact not well accepted by his new father-in-law. They fled together to Kenya, he now has six children, and translates Bibles into Somalian.

The following day while editing in the office, Mohiedin, a regular at the Somali services, and the only Somali member of the Somali Committee, dropped in. I don't believe I have written about Mohiedin before, but he was the first Somali I had met, and probably the one I have spent the most time with. He is not very good at English and he often calls me on the phone, but I have no idea what he is saying. He drops by the office from time to time just to hang out and talk. I would guess he is in his 40s. He was a journalist in Somalia before fleeing the country, and since has had little luck in the career department. This day he was swinging by to drop off his documents that prove he is here legally to be photocopied for Christ Church (as was asked of all the Somalis so proper funds can be allotted to the legal immigrants). Along with his papers, he brought news from Somalia: his daughter had been killed on Wednesday, her apartment bombed by al-Shabaab. Al-Shabaab is the radical Muslim group that controls a large portion of Somalia including the capital Mogadishu, where Mohiedin's daughter lived. You may have heard of the group as they have gained international recognition for the pirating tactics and strong ties with al-Qaeda. Mohiedin believes the extremists had learned that she was Christian. His son, too, had received a similar fate, though he was claimed by a car bomb.

Dave translated this story for me, as Mohiedin stared blankly and solemnly out the window. We prayed together, some moments of silence past, then Mohiedin, taking a deep breath, asked me how my week had been going? How I was finding Kenya? I answered that things were good. Once all of his documents were successfully submitted he bid us good-bye and he left. Dave and I went back to work.

It is very strange, mentally and emotionally, to be in a place where that story is accepted as common place.

Class in Session

2010-02-23T22:21:00.000-08:00

Carlile College, the theology school in whose dorms I have been staying, officially began classes again on Monday. Thus, putting an end to the quiet, peacefulness previously attributed to the campus courtyard.

Despite the new competition for seats, the students are very nice. Everyone was welcoming, and kept telling me to, "Get some rest," which I originally thought a curious salutation. The first person who told me to do so, I thought maybe I had misheard (it wouldn't have been the first time), but then more and more people kept telling me to get some rest. I realized that the new students had assumed that I had just arrive as well, and that I was jet lagged from the flight. I later cleared up the issue.

That night at dinner, rather than simply serving myself among a group of 6-8 people there was a line of 30 men. I needed to pick up my laundry, and figured I would give the line some time to die down. When I returned (about 5minutes later) all the food was gone. I had some bread and peanut butter in my room though, so I ate that for dinner.

On Tuesday, I had my Swahili lesson, looked for discounted, refurbished computers online (Church Army is looking to purchase more editing computers), and prepared a sermon for the Somali service.

After work I did my Swahili homework and went down early to get in line for dinner. I was about 15 people back, and one of the kitchen staff called me forward. I tried to decline at first because I didn't want all of the new arrivals to think that the Mzungu gets special treatment, but the staff member persisted and it became more awkward to refuse. He had felt bad the night before when I came with my plate and received nothing, so he wanted to give me priority tonight. I was given a plate of ugali (the white amorphous blob), chicken, and cabbage, and went back to the common room to eat.

After dinner I ran my Swahili homework by a woman that lives the floor below, and, due to an inability to sleep the night previous, went to bed early.

It is a new dynamic with the students at Church Army, and it is now a much more lively and bustling compound, which, as with anything, comes with its pros and cons.

Weekend

2010-02-21T21:33:00.000-08:00

Not too much happened this weekend. On Saturday I slept in, which was nice. When I got up I made Swahili note cards in an attempt to generate some progress in the area, ate some lunch, and then Dave and Lucy came to Church Army. Dave was recording the voice over for the Mission in the City documentary, and then he, Lucy and I were to head over to Christ Church. Lucy had worship team practice, and Dave and I had the Somali Ministry board meeting (I was to sit in).

The board meeting consisted of Rev. Rachel, the curate at Christ Church, Rose, an outspoken member of the church, Jackson, one of the leaders during the Somali Service, Joseph Kamau, a deacon, and of course, Dave and myself. There are a couple of other members that were unable to attend.

It was, at the very least, an eye-opening meeting. The purpose was to address the budget and strategy moving forward for the ministry, and through the discussion of which, I got to see the various issues that arise in such an outreach.

My experience of the Somali ministry has been during a time when there have been no hand-outs of any sort to the attendees. Those that come, do so by their own means, and purely out of their desire to worship God. Evidently, however, once the budget for the new year again kicks-in, there can be some that come for slightly less commendable reasons. There were stories of those that would leave from Christ Church, going directly to a mosque to then collect the Muslim hand-outs; simply working the system.

Also, there became an issue with the legality of the individuals presence in the country, and more specifically on the church grounds. This strand of argument eventually lead to whether or not the undocumented Somalis could be baptized; Rose arguing that we cannot, "Put man's law above God's," contesting that willing believers should be baptized, and Deacon Kamau saying that it would be impossible to baptize anyone whose name could not be verified. He said this for a number of reasons, but the main issue seemed to be that once baptized one receives a government recognized baptismal card, and those could not be given to undocumented aliens. The conversation changed topics before reaching any real resolution, and we began to discuss how the ministry can open an account in accordance with Christ Church's guidelines. It becomes a sticky situation whenever a group within the church attempts to operate with its own funding and accounts outside of the church. There was much consideration given to how best establish a Somali Ministry account, and the meeting adjourned by setting up another time to continue the deliberations.

It was my first real experience with Church politics, and I am sure it will not be the last. It seems like such an unnecessary hindrance to doing God's work, but at the same time I recognize its legitimacy and value in the reality of a ministry. Although it seems nice and wonderful to care for all the needs of the Somalis, there are always potential negative repercussions that must be accounted for; good intentions do not always lead to the best results.

SUNDAY:
I awoke Sunday morning not to my phone's alarm, but to my phone's ringtone. I answered, and it was Dave. He was outside to pick me up for church. I jumped out from underneath the mosquito net, threw on some clothes and ran out to the car. I had evidently failed to set an alarm, but we made it to church on time.

After church, Dave and Lucy, had another meeting, again leaving Lillian and I to get home by our own devices. I am glad that Lillian had decided to join Christ Church, or else this would have marked the third Sunday in a row that I had either sat around outside, waiting for meetings to end, or attempted to venture home on my lonesome. Not to mention, she owed me lunch at the Big Chicken Inn, thanks to an unadvised bet on whether or not it would rain the previous Sunday.

After lunch we walked through town, and sat to watch some roller skaters and bladders in an empty parking lot that is apparently converted into a skating rink on Sundays. I'd say there were over 50 skaters, and over 120 spectators. I'm still not really sure what everyone was watching (the majority of the skaters were beginners), but it was a nice day and we joined them none the less. We talked mainly in Swahili (she talked mainly in Swahili). I would occasionally recognize a word and say it in English to show that I caught it, but either way it was good practice. We caught matatus back to our respective homes, and I ate dinner, played some rummy with Benjamin, and did some reading before going to bed; this time making sure to set an alarm.

Week's End

2010-02-19T02:51:00.000-08:00

On Thursday I had the office to myself. Dave was at the doctor's with Lucy getting a check up on the baby (who is healthy and doing well). It was a very productive day. In the morning I completed the second slide show video for the Wedding Marketing DVD. Then I had my Swahili lesson, followed by lunch, and in the afternoon I cataloged all of the 'B-reel' footage for the Mission in the City documentary. Once I finished that I had successfully completed all of my assignments to date.

In the evening I played some more ping-pong with slightly better results. I got whitewashed by Benjamin (7-0), but managed to best Sarah twice! I think I'm starting to get better...

Today I began the first stages of editing the Mission in the City documentary. Basically, just organizing the 'A-reel' footage so that once the voice-overs are recorded we can begin aligning the image to the audio.

Just before lunch I went to Sarah's (the third member of the Production team, not the Korean ping-ponger) new office. She showed me how she had come along on the Academy documentary which looked great (She is editing the Academy documentary and Dave and I, the Urban Mission one). I will post it once it is complete. As far as this afternoon I hope to relax, get some reading in, and, ideally, skype Maria. We shall see...

Week to Date

2010-02-18T00:15:00.000-08:00

Since my last post it has been a relatively eventful week. Monday morning Dave and I went into to town to pick up an assortment of things for the production department (headphones, mic, etc.). While we were down town, I also picked up an English-Swahili Bible. One half of each page is in English and the other half is the Swahili translation. I figure it should help both in the Somali ministry, as well as in my attempt to learn the native tongue. When we were walking through the town I was a little troubled by the ease in which I could now breath in the city. The dust, exhaust, and various odors were almost too much more for me when I first arrived, and now I didn't even seem to notice. Perhaps they all just went away...

When we got back to Church Army, we ate lunch, and the rest of the afternoon I cataloged the footage for the Academy documentary. After work, Benjamin asked me if I would like to play 'table tennis' and that a woman by the name of Sarah was at the table waiting with the 'bats.' I said that I would very much enjoy a game of table tennis, and we went across the courtyard to the dinning hall and home of the ping-pong table. Sarah, is a theology student at Carlile College, from South Korea, and owner of the paddles("bats") and ping-pong balls. She was incredible at ping-pong, and Benjamin wasn't much worse. I spent the evening getting dominated in table tennis, then went back to my room to do some Swahili homework.

Tuesday morning I finished the design of the Academy Prize Day DVD, and in doing so completed that particular job. We burned a couple of DVDs, and are now waiting for orders. Later in the morning I accompanied Dave into the neighborhood of Karen, named after Karen Blixen, the author and protagonist of "Out of Africa." The neighborhood is now on the land that her coffee plantation previously resided upon. Dave had to go into Karen to register for some classes he intends to take in order to achieve a masters in Missions. The neighborhood is known to be one of the "posh" areas around town. It is about 15miles outside of city center, and much more lush. The houses are large, and secluded, and the high school that is currently being constructed was designed after Harry Potter's Hogwarts. The campus was beautiful. It more closely resembled a therapeutic resort and spa than a university, with large columned buildings spaciously cropped across numerous green fields with trimmed and colorful shrubbery. Unfortunately for Dave, he'll be attending his classes down town; he just had to go to the main campus for registration. The process of getting him registered was not too excruciating; we only had to make three or four trips between the same two buildings before everything was in proper order. We ate lunch at the campus cafeteria and discussed the various parasites and organisms that tend to call your body home during one's stay in Africa. It wasn't exactly ideal eating conversation, but I was intrigued and unnerved, and I think all in all it was a good talk...

On the way home we passed over a hill that looks over the slum of Kibera. We stopped and shot some more footage for the Urban Evangelism documentary, which has now been officially named, "Mission in the City; a Nairobi Case Study."

When we got back to the office I began working on the topic and message for the following day's Somali service. This carried me through the remainder of the work day, then I read, and did random work, before going to bed.

I started the day off, Wednesday, working on the second slideshow for the Wedding Marketing DVD. I selected all the pictures I intended to use, the song, and the order of the images, before Amtallah, my Swahili tutor, came knocking on the door. He and I went to the conference room where much Swahili was spoken, and little was understood. After a little over an hour I was given my assignment for the night, and we parted ways. I hurriedly ate my lunch, and Dave and I hopped on a Matatu into town to catch a transfer to Christ Church for the Somali service.

Walking into the church I was pleasantly surprised to see a handful of faces I did not recognize; younger faces, whose mouths spoke English! There were three new Somalis in total, two young men, about my own age or slightly my minor, and a man of about 30 years. Each of them could get by on English, and one actually preferred it. These additions had quite an impact on our previous demographic of middle-aged Somali women, of whom, one spoke only Swahili (a Muslim convert from Mozambique), and the rest spoke only Somalian.

It was a great service. The singing was vibrant and joyful. The Somalis really belted it out, and I couldn't help but notice how much more this moment seemed to be cherished by these persecuted people, who day in and day out cannot so much as reference their faith, and now they can sing about it to their heart's content. It is no wonder they sang all the louder.

After the worship we discussed Matthew 6:19-34. The verses pertain to reliance and faith in God, and the worthlessness of worry. There was open discussion and testimonies; everyone participated. It was an extremely encouraging meeting. Up to this point, I have to admit I was dubious of what could be accomplished. There were 3-4 Somalis coming on a regular basis, none of whom spoke English, and the services felt forced. This Wednesday was different. I pray that next week is even better. We had a total of 7 Somalis, and we changed the format from an actual service (still left over from when the Somalis were around 30 in number) to an open forum which fit much better for the size of the group. These changes along with the three new interpreters made for an effective and fruitful meeting. Afterwards we took tea, and talked, and I felt for the first time that a real relationship is beginning to grow between myself and the Somalis.

One of the young men, whose name, at least sounds like, Hersi, just returned from a mission trip to one of the Somali refugee camps close to the border. I cannot imagine trying to evagelize in such circumstances, but he talked of their great success. There is even a large church within the camp now. He told us of Somali culture, and how there are some interesting paradoxes. For example, Somali cemeteries often bare crosses on their tombs, and even more surprising, new born babies are immediately marked with a cross upon their forehead with ash. This act is believed to protect the baby from getting sick, a remnant from a pre-Muslim era, but no Somalis seem to make the connection to Christianity.

Recharged in the belief of the work that can be done with the Somali Christians we traveled back to Church Army.

The work day over, I subjected the rest of my evening to again getting destroyed in ping-pong.

Mangoes, Burgers, and Peanuts

2010-02-14T21:36:00.000-08:00

It is again Monday, and I again had a wonderful weekend.

Friday after work, as I was walking into my dorm I noticed a couple of the other guys that live on the compound surrounding a tree and yelling at it. I approached and realized that there was a man among the branches, and that the tree was yielding mangoes (or maembes in Swahili). I was tossed one of the green, baseball sized fruits, and was told to bite in. I tried, and failed the first couple attempts. Eventually, however, I broke the tough exterior and was rewarded with a deliciously sweet juice.

This was not the end of my mango-filled Friday. After dinner, Benjamin's financee, Grace, came over with a bag full. The village that she comes from is known for their mangoes. There is apparently a huge variety of mangoes in Kenya. Grace's particular strand was more of a softball size, and the color of the Mangoes we have in the States; greenish/yellowish on the outside, and a solid Pittsburgh yellow inside. Grace's were actually edible, whereas the one from the tree outside were more sucked for their juices.

On Saturday I awoke, around 8:30am, killed the handful of blood-bloated mosquitoes that somehow managed to break through the fortress wall that is my mosquito net, and met Dave and Lucy to go to the Light and Power Center. When we arrived there was only a small number of kids outside. As I got out of the car a little Somali child perhaps three, came sprinting from the center; almost falling every other shaky step, and with the largest, lunatic smile across her face. She was running directly at me, and at first I wasn't sure what to do. As she reached me I picked her up, and she instantly burst into laughter. Carrying the little girl we found the rest of the children behind the center in the midst of a story. The backyard of the center was once the garbage dump/toilets for the entire community. Now, as you can see in the pictures below, a U.S. church has helped transform it into a very nice garden. After their story time came porridge and bread, and then we went to the front of the center and played soccer. I got to attempt some Swahili with the kids while Dave and Lucy met with a pastor that lives down the road. The kids just assume they don't know the words I'm using when I screw up, so it's a much more carefree practice than when I am struggling with adults... I remembered to bring my camera this time.

After Light and Power Dave, Lucy, and I went out to eat at a place called Nairobi Java House. Nairobi Java House is where all westerners are taken at least once during their stay, especially if they are getting home sick. Their menu is a taste of America. I went with a Bleu cheese burger with fries and small side salad (one of the few places its ok to eat salad). It was delicious, and a burger always does the body (and mind) good.

Once we finished at the Java House I was dropped off at Church Army and did some work in my room until about six. After a failed attempt to Skype (call over the internet) home , I went over to Lucy's sister's apartment within the Church Army compound for dinner. They had invited me to join them a week prior when I was dropping off some clothes to be washed. Living in the apartment are "Little" Mercy (Lucy also has another sister "Big" Mercy), Eunice, Rebbecca, Chi Chi, Mercy's daughter Sophia, and during the week a young girl named, Zoe, who attends Church Army Academy. I was served chapati, a superb toasted flat bread (a kind of cross between naan and a tortilla), a beef stew, rice, sweet cabbage, and for desert fresh mango. It was exquisite. Beef stew, and chapati are my favorite, so I was very pleased. Sophia, the baby, has just learned to walk, so the entertainment for the evening was watching her take two or three steps and fall, two or three steps then fall. It was really much more entertaining than one would think.

Saying goodnight I made the short walk back to my place and, finding Benjamin asleep, turned on the TV just in time to catch the beginning of "Runaway Bride." I justified my viewing as a "way to get back to my American roots..."

Sunday morning Dave and Lucy again picked me up, and the teacher Lillian joined us for the second week as well. She has now officially transfered to Christ Church. The service was a follow up to the previouse week's sermon on leadership, and more specifically leadership as it pertains to teamwork.

As an example of teamwork in the Bible one of the readings was Nehemiah 3:1-32. For anyone familiar with the chapter, it is thirty-two verses of nothing but the names of those who helped rebuild Jerusalem's city wall. It took the poor reader about 15 minutes to get through. The sermon itself, however, was successful in bringing out the meaning of the chapter. Once the service had ended we had some chai outside.

Dave and Lucy were going out for a Valentine's Day lunch, so I would be taking a matatu back home with Lillian. Lillian, though, had to meet with the rector to discuss her transfer. As I was waiting outside, a parishioner of Christ Church offered me some peanuts. I accepted. Never have I considered that the taste of a peanut could improve. I was told that Coca-Cola would be better here because they use real sugar cane, etc., but I didn't really notice too big of a difference. The peanuts though were, for sure, an upgrade. They were probably also the last thing I ever would have guessed to taste any different, anywhere in the world.

But enough about peanuts.

Lillian and I grabbed some lunch as we transfered through town, and I made it back to Church Army around 5pm. I successfully Skyped home and was able to talk to the entire family as both Catherine and Andi were back for the weekend. Then, being Valentine's Day, I, of course, had a wonderful conversation with my lovely girlfriend, Maria.

After the Skyping, I had dinner, and, as the custom continues, played rummy 500 with Benjamin.

Business

2010-02-11T22:21:00.000-08:00

The first main event of my Wednesday was my Swahili class. The class is coming along very well, and I'm enjoying it a lot. We are starting to really get in to the details of the language and its getting a bit complicated, but I haven't managed to get completely lost yet.

After my lesson, as we do every Wednesday, Dave and I went to the Somali service. We had a comparatively decent turnout of five Somalis. We introduced the beginning of a new course on wealth from a biblical perspective, guided by the booklet, "Wealth, Money, & Business." It is a very useful look at what the bible teaches about income; the management team at Church Army is using it as well. The hope is that we will then use this platform to explore the possibilities of micro-loan schemes and small business development, to help the Somalis generate revenue for themselves. We urged them to attend regularly now that a more structured study has begun, and invited them to bring as many of their friends as possible.

A little over a month ago, there were 20-30 Somalis coming on a regular basis and then the Matatu funds ran out; a lot can change in a month. We pray that with God's help we can regain these numbers and establish a much better base to begin implementation of the business plans.

On Thursday, I finished editing the Prize Day video I had been working on. Its about an hour and a half though, so I won't be posting it online. While attempting to finalize and render the video (which takes quite a while considering the size) the power again went out and stayed out for the remainder of the afternoon, so I was relieved of my duties earlier than usual and enjoyed the weather while reading in a little hut outside of my dorm. The power outages have been quite disruptive (not to mention a following power surge fried my laptop's charger), but I can't complain about getting off earlier and basking in sun...

Successfully finalizing the Prize Day video, I have moved on to the new charge of designing the DVD menu before completely finishing the project. I have also begun working with Adobe Premiere, editing the second sample slideshow for our Wedding marketing video. Once I complete those projects it is on to cataloging all of the footage we have taken so far for the Urban Missions documentary. Needless to say I shouldn't be too idle in the days to come...

During the Blackout...

2010-02-09T05:50:00.001-08:00

Friday was spent filming for the Urban Mission documentary. We walked from the Church Army Campus to downtown Nairobi. Along the way we passed through a number of the poorer areas, and were able to capture a lot of good footage. When we got downtown we tried to focus on the contrasts between the footage we had just recorded of people struggling to get by, selling cabbage on the side of the road, and the stock broker downtown getting into his Mercedes. We tried to get on top of some of the major skyscrapers, but none would allow us. We were often kicked out of areas for filming. Sarah, another member of the Church Army Production Department, explained to me why some people ran from the camera. She said that during Moi's reign as President it was disturbingly common for people to use doctored photos in order to frame and accuse innocent people of wrongdoing, and that growing up in that culture has understandably made many people skeptical of individuals with cameras.

When we got back from town, we took our lunch, and again set out filming. This time for the Church Army Academy film. Fridays are sports days at the Academy. All of the children get to dress down, in green Church Army sweat pants, and a shirt of their respective house (Green House, White House, Red House, and Yellow House) The four 'houses' compete against one another in various games for the second half of the day. They play soccer, volleyball, and a variant of basketball that was quite entertaining. The game is a kinda of hybrid between ultimate Frisbee and basketball. If you have the ball you cannot move, and must pass it to a member of your team. There are two hoops on opposite ends of the grass "court," but they are lacking backboards. Each team has their two tallest members stand at each hoop; one playing defense, the other offense. The goal is to get the ball into the hands of your team's offensive player underneath the hoop, at which point that person gets a free shot at the basket guarded only by the one defensive player of the opposite team. When I was watching it was only girls playing. The students get extremely excited about the game, and go wild when a point is scored

After filming the sports day, I went back to the office and continued editing the Prize Day footage from the previous week.

Saturday was wonderful. It was my first real day to do absolutely nothing since arriving in Kenya. Dave and I were scheduled to go to the Light and Power Center, but he had to cancel, and I was left to do as I pleased (which was mainly play cards with Benjamin and read). I began reading a very intriguing book titled, "Unchristian." A man by the name of David Kinnamin, is a market researcher, and has countless years of experience conducting brand research for fortune 500 companies. For example, when a Coca-Cola or McDonalds logo or ad is seen or played what does the general population think of these companies. He then took this method of research and applied it to the current way that Americans view Christianity. In fact the books tag line reads, "What a new generation thinks about Christianity, and why it matters." I'm only a couple chapters in, but it seems like its going to be a pretty interesting read...

On Sunday, as usual, Dave and Lucy picked me up around 10 for Church, this time however a teacher from the Academy, named Lillian, joined us. Lillian's church had recently been shut down, and she was looking for a new one to join. Again as usual, the sermon was very powerful, this time on leadership. Sadly, though, there were no Somalis present (Dave and I are going to the Somali service later today, and are hoping for a better turnout). After Church there was a marriage seminar going on that Dave and Lucy wanted to attend, so Lillian, myself, and a young woman called Asumpta went out for lunch. Asumpta leads the worship for the youth services and is a design student at one of the local universities. She already has her own clothing line, and she had designed and made everything she was wearing on Sunday... pretty impressive.
The three of us took a matatu into town, and ate at the "Big Chicken Inn." It was easily some of the best chicken I have ever had (think KFC that uses fresh, non-genetically altered chicken). After lunch Asumpta had to head back to her campus to get some work done, and Lillian showed me the Masai Market downtown. The Masai Market is an impressive assortment of handmade crafts and tapestries, all very nice, but as Lillian warned the Mzungus get swarmed.

We eventually made it back to Church Army, and I helped Lillian enter grades into a computer that was hooked up to the Church Army generator (she was new to Excel). Afterwards I went over to the kitchen (where the power was still out). The small number of people currently living on the campus were cooking dinner in the dark. It was a very enjoyable evening everyone huddled in the dark kitchen, talking, laughing, and cooking. We ate, and then Benjamin, Joel, and I played cards under a gas-powered lamp before calling it a night.

Monday morning came quicker than could be hoped, and I made the half minute walk to my office. I spent the morning editing, and in the afternoon we went out filming again. This time to an area called Eastleigh. Eastleigh is a slum area dominated by Somali Muslims, and the location where all the Somali Christians of Christ Church were persecuted in and forced to move from.

When we got out of the car and began walking down one of the areas main streets Sarah ominously stated, "Welcome to Somalia."

Nearly every woman was covered from head to foot in cloth, eyes poking out of an array of different colored hijabs. Here absolutely no one wanted to be filmed. Few were aggressively against us filming, but many covered their faces, put their hands in front of the camera, or crossed the street. Many sneered and whispered to one another. Sarah was much braver than I. She just kept filming, I was looking in every direction waiting for something to happen. Luckily the tention was anticlimactic and we got the shots we wanted by climbing a staircase out of the average person's line of sight, and made it safely back to the car.

Once back in the car, however, it would prove to take over an hour to make the 5 minute drive back to Church Army. A truck had broken down which effectually turned the road into a one-lane street. Inevitably a matatu driver, as they so commonly do, went down the opposite lane hoping to skip everyone that was patiently waiting for their turn to go around the broken down truck. About forty feet down the road the matatu was nose to nose with the line of cars coming in the opposite direction. Should it have been able to reverse, perhaps the problem would have been solved, but as soon as one matatu began traveling down the wrong side of the road, so followed a plethora of others. After about 20 minutes some bystanders were able to diffuse the situation and again the road was a smooth running one lane avenue. About thirty seconds later, a new line of matatus did the exact same thing. This happened three times. In an hour we traveled less than 40 feet. It would have continued forever but two policemen with their AK-47s showed up and began to restore "order."

We made it back to Church Army and a man named John was waiting for me there. He had come from some 500km away to pick up a laptop that had been repaired in the States and given to me to bring to him before I left. Receiving the computer, he thanked me, and went on his way.

The power was spotty on Monday. It would work for about 10 minutes and then go out for 2. I tried to edit for a half an hour, but determined that with the power the way it was, I was getting very little accomplished, and went back to my room to study Swahili.

On Tuesday, we got up early to make the trip to Kibera to again capture footage for the Urban Missions documentary. In the car were Dave, myself, Sarah, and David who had previously given me the tour through Kibera. For the sake of differentiation, I will call Kibera Dave, "Big Dave", and my mentor Dave... Dave.

Along the way the topic of the election violence that had taken place in 2007 came up, and Big Dave told us of his experience. Sitting in his home, a band of 20 men came crashing through the front door. Armed with machetes and two hand guns the group asked if Big Dave preferred his life or his belongings. He chose the former, was given 50 shillings (75 cents) for a matatu, and told simply to leave. They paid for his matatu, and then robbed him of everything he owned. After the theft Big Dave was forced to start over, and move back into the Kibera slum were he still lives. He asked Sarah if she had experienced any violence and she responded, "No, God blessed me." Dave answered, "God blessed me as well." It was hard for me to get over the fact that they had taken everything he owned, but, for Big Dave, who knew how bad these robberies could get, it was easy to realize just how lucky he was to be alive.

The rest of the day we shot interviews for the documentary and a couple of street shots, before returning to Church Army and discovering that the power had been completely restored.

Power Outage

2010-02-09T04:58:00.000-08:00

It was windy a couple of days ago, nothing too strong, but breezy enough for two power lines to graze one another, explode, and cause a multi-day black out.

Due to this event I haven't been able to post any new stories, or watch any Mexican soap operas... it was a tragic weekend.

The power has returned, but the day was spent filming, so unfortunately I don't have time to fill everybody in on whats happened since my last post.

Just wanted to let you know I am still alive, and that I will publish a real post tomorrow.

Swahili, Somalis, and a Sunrise

2010-02-03T23:59:00.000-08:00

When we returned from Kibera, there was a surprise going away party for Simon. Everyone said their goodbyes and commended him on the excellent work that he had accomplished restoring two classrooms. It was a very pleasant event, and Simon pledged to be back by June, this time with his new fiance...

On Wednesday I had to get up early to begin shooting the Marketing film for the Church Army Academy. It will follow the day in the life of one of its students, a 7 year old named Patience. We filmed the little girl get on her bus, in her classes, and eating lunch. At 11am I had my third Swahili lesson, learning the different tenses and basic conjugations. The classes are coming along well and are usually full of laughter; he laughs at my pronunciations, and I laugh at the way things are supposed to be pronounced.

After the lesson, and subsequently after lunch, Dave and I left for the Somali Mass at Christ Church. There was a slightly better turn out this week then last Wednesday. In all there were 7 Somalis. We sang worship songs in Somalian (I would guess there are about twice as many vowels than consonants in every Somalian word...), and some of the Somalis gave their testimonies. One of the women had found out that her children were being used by a neighbor to beg while the woman was at work; another praised that God had healed her daughter both physically and spiritually after a long illness. There was a reading in Swahili, Somalian, and English, the sermon was given, and then we all took tea together afterwards. In a week or so it is hoped that we will be able to sit down and discuss the best course of action to help the Somali Christians get their own business up and running and begin generating revenue.

When we got back from the Somali mass, I packed a bag to stay over Dave and Lucy's for the night. We would be getting up the next morning to film the sunrise over the Nairobi skyline for the urban evangelism documentary.

Before we left we said good-bye to Simon as it would be the last time we would see him. He was leaving the following morning at 5am for the U.K.

Along the way to Dave and Lucy's we had to make a solemn stop at the prison where Lucy grew up. One of Lucy's childhood friend's husband had died in a tragic car accident the night before. When someone dies in Kenya the community rallies around the bereaved family. Every night until the funeral there will be neighbors at the widow's house. It is also a time of many donations as the husbands body must be transported back to his village (as is the custom) which can become very costly. It was similar to an Irish wake, it was as though the community would not allow the widow or her children to become too depressed. There was laughter and joking, but on more than one occasion I saw the widow glance longingly at the picture of her husband that still hung on the wall; feet from where she sat.

Once we left the Widow's home, and made it back to Dave and Lucy's, we ate dinner and watched a documentary on the history of Kenya. It was very intriguing. Kenya, at one point had the potential to be in a very different, much more positive position. However, Tom Mboya, the hopeful catalyst for this change was assassinated in 1979, supposedly because of the threat he posed to the insecure President Kenyatta. He was murdered before he could have a radical effect on Kenyan politics, but he did have such an effect on American politics. Tom Mboya, was the man responsible for Obama's father coming to America...

On Thursday morning we woke up at 5am, ate a small breakfast and drove to Uhuru (Freedom) Park, and set up the camera for a time lapse shoot of the sun rising over the Nairobi skyline. I have included some still images of the proceedings:

Dave & Lucy

Kibera

2010-02-03T21:47:00.000-08:00

By Tuesday, Simon, the Englishman, had only two days remaining in Kenya, and he was hoping to see the second largest slum in Africa before he left. Dave wanted to get some shots of the area as well, so he organized for Simon and I to make the trip.

In Nairobi, 60% of the population lives on less than 5% of the land.

In Kibera, Nairobi's largest slum, and the second largest slum in Africa, there are an estimated 1,000,000 people living in under a square mile. This area alone accounts for over a quarter of the city's population while taking up less than a percent of its total area. The numbers come out to about 1,250 people per acre.

The slum is divided into 14 different villages, some of which are dominated by specific ethnic tribes. Tribal tension, an extremely volatile issue in Kenya, has been high since the onset of the country, and Kibera has been the site of many deadly ethnic conflicts; some as recent as last summer.

Still at Church Army, Simon, and I were introduced to our chaperon, a man also called David, who is a bus driver for the Academy and lives in Kibera. We left the compound and boarded a matatu. After transferring downtown, we made it to the edge of the slum where a man by the name of Zadok was waiting for us at the matatu stage. Zadok works with the Center for Urban Mission, a division of Church Army Africa working primarily in Kibera. With Zadok and David as our guides we entered the slum, and as with all slums it would seem, the most abrasive factor was the stench. Immediately assaulting your nasal passage is a concoction of aromas that are probably better off left nameless.

We began down a paved road, the first I had ever been on in a slum (they were a product of U.N. and various NGO attempts to facilitate construction and progress in the area). A short while later, turning off the paved road, we followed a winding dirt path to a single set of railroad tracks. The tracks ran about a mile before curving behind some hills, and served as a physical dividing line between the rich and the poor. Large houses and apartment complexes to my left, endless tin roofed shanties to my right. Making the scene more dramatic, the railroad tracks lie along a thin ridge offering a high vantage point and a perfect view of the stark contrasts. There were schools in almost the exact location on either side of the tracks; offering a fair comparison. One was a new multi-story beautifully painted school, the other an odd assortment of makeshift buildings slightly larger than those surrounding it. Each had a number of students outside running around and playing; one set of students all wore matching bright yellow sweaters and khaki pants, the other set wore dirty and tattered hand-me-downs. The tracks were a bustling byway. Hundreds of people walking in either direction; entrepreneurs selling an assortment of apparently useless items along the side (one vendor had nothing but sets of keys, to what they opened I'll never know).

We eventually made it to one of the Center for Urban Mission's churches in the area, but not before passing a man that was smoothing out an odd, large quantity of mush that most closely resembled scrambled egges (in texture and color). I asked David what exactly the substance was, and David informed me that it was a newly legalized type of brew; an edible beer. It is even marketed as both a filling food and an alcoholic beverage.

There are no public institutions of any kind in Kibera; no schools, health clinics, or even public bathrooms. Because of this, and many other reasons, the Center for Urban Mission opened up the Emmanuel Parish. It is complete with a Church, School, Health Clinic, and even restrooms. The parish also offers a women's micro-loan scheme, a library, and jewelry manufacturing. The school is equipped with 4 teachers; the health clinic with a nurse, a lab tech, a pharmacist, and a director. The clinic sees about 20 people a day in the beginning of the month and about 40 people a day at the end of the month. They attribute this discrepancy to the fact that people don't have enough money at the beginning of the month to afford to be treated. Because the clinic has no power they are unable to offer immunizations and vaccinations as refrigeration is required. We viewed the small classrooms, the library, and woman making necklaces by tediously rolling strips of paper into 'beads', dipping them in a varnish and fashioning them to a string. As always the school children were excited to see "Mzungus".

After leaving Emmanuel's we took an alternative route back to the matatu stage. Along the way I was impressed by the self sufficiency of the slum. It was like its own mini-city, with its own culture and way of doing business. People can literally never leave the slum and get by, and indeed many never do.

There are 'gutters' that run along and often through all of the slums walkways. They are used for trash removal, plumbing, water runoff, etc. They are almost always clogged with blackish sludge and pieces of trash. Which I believe to be responsible for the great majority of horrid odors. Along the walk home there were numerous people with sticks or shovels pushing the sludge out from in front of their home or business, sliding it further down the gutter which eventually leads to a disturbingly polluted creek, which in turn, I'm sure, goes into a large river and so on. When the backup of the gutter becomes too large it is dredged out of the gutter and slid into the walkways where it dries in the sun, and then gets burned.

Passing through a market at the end of our journey, where you could find anything from pineapple on a stick to an Obama watch, we reached the matatu stage and were on our way back to Church Army.

Mild Monday

2010-02-03T21:37:00.000-08:00

On Monday, the great majority of the time was spent importing footage from the Academy's prize day (which I hope to start editing soon), and the Production Department had a meeting to outline the weeks proceedings. We have two big jobs coming up, and needed to hire a broadcast quality camera, so we wanted to make sure the days shoots were all properly organized. We will be producing a documentary on urban evangelism, and a marketing video for the Church Army Academy to raise funds in the U.K. and increase enrollment in Kenya.

After work, Benjamin and I grabbed a desk and chair from the cafeteria and brought it up to my room which, after some finagling, was squeezed into a corner by the window. It is relief to be able to do work in my room now without laying on my bed or sitting on the floor.

Benjamin, Joel, and I played cards the remainder of the evening.

A Long Weekend

2010-01-31T22:07:00.000-08:00

On Thursday I had my second Swahili lesson (Ninatoka jiji la Pittsburgh, jimbo la Pennsylvania), and worked on my latest project editing two wedding slideshows to be used as marketing material for Church Army Productions. The weddings here are huge ordeals (400 people is consider conservative) so its pretty interesting to edit and look at all the pictures. Its great insight into the culture. After work a group of us watched the semi-finals of the Africa Cup of Nations in the dormitory's common room.

On Friday I finished up the first of the two slide shows in the morning and then at 2pm, the Church Army Academy was having an award ceremony for their top preforming students. We were asked to film the event and hope to sell DVD copies to the parents to generate some revenue for Church Army Productions. This took up the rest of the afternoon, and it will be the first actual video I will edit here at Church Army.

While filming I went into one of the classrooms that Simon, the Englishman, was redoing, to see how his work has progressed, and upon entering, on the far fall was painted in huge block letters, "Angie, I love you, will you marry me?"

I immediately inquired, and was informed that he had taken a picture of this message and that it had already been posted on facebook. He continued to tell me that every day his girlfriend comes home from work (in the UK) and looks at the pictures that he posts and that today she was going to have a bit of a surprise.

A couple of hours later, I heard that she had commented on the photo, "Ndio!" Swahili for "yes."

So Simon is engaged...via facebook... It added some intrigue to the weekend to say the least.

On Saturday, Dave, Simon, and I, went back to the Kawangare slum. Simon was hoping for an opportunity to see the different parts of the city and play with the children (he has spent the majority of his time working on the classrooms). Dave and I were intending to get some shots of the slum for an upcoming documentary on urban Evangelism. I thought it was interesting how my viewpoint changed from whenever I first was simply soaking in the experience and environment of the slum, to now when I was looking for shots and means to tell the slum's story. Instead of being in awe of my surroundings I was analyzing them, surveying the plethora of material.

We played with the kids, again singing and dancing at the Light and Power Center, and then walked the slums filming. We got some good 'B reel' material (to be played during interviews, voice overs, etc.), with the assistance of a young man named Jeffery. Jeffery grew up taking part in the Light and Power Center activities, and lived in the area. We were focusing mainly on the property walls that lined the slum, clearly representing the gaping economic divide. Huge houses with huge brick walls, crested with barbed wire and broken glass, encased the poorest of the poor.

When we were finished filming, the four of us went out to eat at an Ethiopian restaurant. It was extremely delicious, and I am glad to say (for those of you who live in Pittsburgh) Abay, in East Liberty, is about as authentic as it gets.

Once we got back, I showered, and entering the common room found my flatmates, Benjamin and Joel, playing cards. I asked them what game they were playing and they responded, "Cards." I pried further to discover that they only knew one card game, and simply believed it to be called cards. It was more or less 'Uno.' I played for a while and then taught them Rummy 500, and we played well into the night. They loved it. I did a bad magic trick and they were mesmerized. I hope to teach them 'Hearts' soon and then things will really get interesting...

On Sunday morning I dropped off my laundry at Lucy's sister's place on campus. I offered to do it myself, but they laughed and said that won't be necessary. There are no washing machines, and Dave said it would take me 5 times as long, and that my sole accomplish would most likely to be getting my clothes wet rather than clean.

After dropping off the wash, Dave, Lucy, and I went to Christ Church for mass. On this Sunday we attended the youth service which is in a big white tent, below the main church. There was a lot more singing and the sermon was highly interactive. After church there was a lunch, which Dave and I took with a group of Somalis that had attended the main service.

These were the individuals I had talked about in my last post. There was about 15 of them today. They had all moved away from their original slum due to persecution and had walked about four miles to attend the service today. There were three older woman (the mothers), one older man, three teenage boys, and a slightly younger girl that sat in the circle with Dave and I. Behind them on the ground sat about six or seven children playing in the dirt and eatting their lunch.

The apparent Matriarch of the group had some pressing questions for Dave, though, none of the elders of the group could speak English. The teenage boys served as our translators.

She began by thanking God for the day, and went on to explain that they have been attending the church for almost a year; that their Somali brethren had spurned them; that all they have is each other, and the Church; and the matatu (bus) funds have been stopped, leaving walking the only option of travel. A child stepped forward and showed an open, bubbling, wound that went from the center of her foot to a quarter of the way up her shin. The mother went on: they cannot continue walking to the Church, the elderly cannot take the journey. She asked what the church can do to help them in this new year. She pleaded that the Church must help them, that they have no other options.

Dave handled the situation diplomatically. They are struggling and deserve aid, but the church was out of funds, and just handing over money accomplishes little in the long run. He began by explaining how glad we are that they have come, that they are a part of the worship at Christ Church, our brothers and sisters; that the church had put away 100,000 Kenyan Shillings (Ksh) for their transportation but it was exhausted; and that the Church's budget does not start in the new year but rather in March (the earliest that the matatu funding could begin anew). He offered alternative solutions: that the Somalis elect a member of their group to serve on the leadership board of Christ Church, to give them a voice in the decision making process. He asked of the possibility of bringing the worship to them in their homes, and offered the possibility of starting small businesses to begin generating revenue for the group.

The matriarch responded that bringing the service to them was not an option. It would be far too dangerous. She seemed appeased with the possibility of income production in the future, and switched gears to short term solutions: how were they going to get home today? They did not want to repeat the hike in the extreme heat of the midday sun.

Budgeted into my weekly stipend is 500Ksh for "ministry development", and with the week coming to end and nothing close to a better use, we gave the group the 500 Ksh, along with an additional 100ksh from the Church to cover their trip home (its about 20Ksh/person). So you, my supporters, can take pride in having afforded a group of 15 Christian Somalis a way home from mass (and some extra spending money). I thank you, and I'm sure they do as well.

We prayed with them, asked them to remember why it is that they come, and for those that can make the walk to continue the trek until a better means of transport is discovered.

It is hard to resist emptying your pockets for these people after seeing their struggles and knowing their plight. What they go through just to attend Church and worship is beyond description. I feel compelled to help these Somali Christians in any way I can, and pray that God reveals an opportunity to do so.

Swahili and a Somali Service

2010-01-27T22:04:00.000-08:00

Two main events dominated my Wednesday. My very first lesson in Swahili and then later in the day a covert Somali service.

My Swahili teacher, Amtallah, is a very dark skinned, golden eyed, joyful man. We met about an hour before lunch, and went over the basics of the language; covering various sayings that I would need to operate on a day-to-day basis. Often times he would burst into laughter when I mispronounced words, struggling to catch his breath he'd inform me, "You don't want to say that, haha... Swahili is very easy to accidentally say a different word...hahaha..." I have no clue what I was uttering during the session, but I think I will have to be more careful outside of the classroom. I did, however, manage to learn to say, "How are you?" (Habari?) and how to count to ten (moja, mbili, tatu, nne, tano, sita, saba, nane, tisa, kumi). Everyone keeps telling me it is a very easy language to learn, but I have my doubts. Amtallah ensures fluency by my departure...we'll see.

After the lesson and lunch, Dave and I boarded a matatu just outside of the Church Army compound. We were off to Christ Church; David's parish, and the church we had attended last Sunday. However, unlike the previous Sunday's service today's mass was for a very unique and courageous set of individuals.

Somalia, Kenya's Northeastern neighbor, has been plagued with strife and war. The Islamic state shares a 400 mile border with Kenya, and more and more of its people continue to seek refuge within the Kenyan domain. There are slums within Nairobi that are almost 90% Somali and Muslim. Some of these refugees have come to know Christ. This, though, can become a very dangerous practice. These converted refugees have been disowned by their families, are foreign to Kenya's culture, and do not speak the language. Worse still, according to the Qur'an the penalty for leaving the Muslim faith is death. Many of the of the Somali members of Christ Church have experienced stoning, stabbing, or other forms of physical torture for their belief. They are virtually incapable of receiving further education, and have almost no opportunity for employment. Many are forced to leave their homes due to persecution, and more often than not have nowhere to go.

Despite all of these challenges they show a remarkable commitment and an eager desire to live for Jesus. Christ Church has had about 70 different Somali guests come through its doors. 30-40 would show up each Wednesday afternoon for the secret service (done in Somalian, complete with Somalian Bibles). Because of the Somalis' destitute condition and the distance between the church and the slum, Christ Church would compensate the parishioners for their matatu expenses (about $1.30/mass/person). But unfortunately at the beginning of October 2009, Christ Church's own financial struggles forced the end of this reimbursement policy and the attendance levels began to drop.

On this Wednesday there were 5 of us. Two Americans, a Kenyan, a Somali, and a displaced refugee from the Democratic Republic of Congo. Four different nationalities, four different languages, five people. Suffice to say it was probably the most unique Bible study I've ever taken part in. Aside from myself, everyone had a at least an elementary understanding of Swahili so we progressed from there (Dave translating for me).

There is usually a larger turn out, and one is hoped for this coming Wednesday, but with no means to pay their way these converts have little option (on Christmas, though, 70 refugees managed to scrap up the fare).

The Christian Somali outreach at Christ Church is one of the potential minitries I will be working with while in Nairobi. It would be our goal to help teach these refugees to find ways in which they can generate their own money through various entrepreneurial ventures (since nobody will hire them). We hope to further evaluate this possibility next Wednesday, and pray for more to come.

To learn more about the plight of the Somali Christians in Kenya send me an email, and I can mail you a DVD made by the Church Army Africa video department that documents the immense struggles and moving stories these refugees experience for God (unfortunately due to sensitive content the video cannot be placed on video sites such as YouTube).

The Big Move

2010-01-26T05:18:00.000-08:00

Monday morning I packed all of my luggage into the back of Dave and Lucy's car and we drove to Church Army. I was moving out of my generously granted temporary home, and into my residence for the months to come. During the morning hours I moved into my room which I was suprised to find came equipped with a double sized bed. Unfortunately that was all the room came with, save a closet. I was hoping for a desk to be able to do work upon, but was pacified by the close proximity to the common room and it's own rather large quantity of desk space.

Once moved in, I went into the office and began to fool around with the editing software, Sony Vegas. I had never used it before but I am beginning to get the gist of it, and believe it will be an upgrade to my prior editing capabilities.

After work I went out to eat with a Kenyan who lives down the hall from me named Benjamin, his Fiancee, Grace, and a Englishman named Simon. Simon has been here for two weeks and will be around for another two. He is a carpenter by trade, and has paid his own way down here. He is working for free with a goal to accomplish any handy work possible.

We took a matatu a couple of minutes away from Church Army to the restaurant, and I must admit I was a little apprehensive as it was my first time out at night, and had received my share of warnings about the dark. All, however, was good, and we returned safely to catch some of the Africa Cup (Soccer) before crawling under my mosquito net and drifting to sleep.

First Sunday

2010-01-26T05:17:00.000-08:00

On Sunday we attended mass at Christ Church in the Westlands neighborhood of Nairobi. It is the church at which my mentor and his lovely wife Lucy met (which in some elaborate string of events is how I have come to be associated with Church Army). It was a long, 2 and half hour service, during which I heard one of the most powerful sermons of my life from a Ugandan reverend on giving, praying, and fasting, and I received a rose as a first time vistor.

After church we went to the prison in which Lucy was raised. No, she herself was not a criminal, nore any of her family members. Her father is the prison chaplin, and all prision employees live within its walls. We had a delicious meal at her parents home, and I got to experience Ugali, the wonderful lump of mashed corn that you get to eat with your hands (you roll little peices into balls and dip it in the various accompanying sides). She had a lovely family and we stayed a great portion of the afternoon and well into the evening. Never have I seen such big smiles or so much laughter.

Journey to Kawangware

2010-01-25T22:32:00.000-08:00

Friday was spent getting shown around the Church Army compound and being introduced to people. Afterwards my jet lag took control and I passed out, sleeping through dinner.

Saturday we got up around 7:30am and Dave, my mentor, and I took a matatu into downtown Nairobi. A matatu is like a bus but it is privatized and about the size of van (not a minivan, the big guys). They seat 14-24 people (the 24 seaters are more like actual buses). When I say they are privatized I mean you can buy a matatu and start to pick people up (though other matatu owners might flex their muscles).

Picking a matutu is like picking a radio station. Some blast rap and are covered in gangstar decals and random american sayings like, "Get rich or die," others are plain and play soft rock, and everything in between. This is how the owners try to attract you to get on their matatu over someone elses; many are equppied with flat screen TVs (some on every headrest!). Its rather wild, and you're really crammed in. The matatus have a driver and a conductor. The conductor just hangs out the door and tries to get people to ride, yelling and whistling and banging the side of the bus. After getting out of the bus to let others on, the conductors tend to make a habit of running along side the vehicle and jumping in at the last possible second (a daring exercise that would later prove to be quite lethal).

On the way down I saw huge vultures in the tree tops. Dave informed me that they can swallow a bone as big as your forearm in one gulp. The driving in Nairobi is exciting to say the least; truely there is never a dull moment. The general theme seems to be that you go where you please and if you were to attempt to drive orderly you would most likely cause an accident. I would say that the average car is under 2cm of the car adjacent, and has at least one tire on the sidewalk or in a pothole at all times. That being said one hardly exceeds 30mph, which is my sole comfort should a collosion occur.

We got in to downtown Nairobi and boy was it bustiling, on par with London or New York. There were people everywhere; there were as many people as there were particles of dust in the air, which was plentiful. Cars drove past, coughing up black exhaust that combined with the dust, and it was sometimes difficult to breath.

I got the impression, walking around the city, that the people here are much more accustomed to seeing white people than they were in Uganda, which is nice. Nobody is too interested in you being around as opposed to everyone staring. There was however the occasional begger associating the color of my skin with money. We walked across the town, passing the National Archives, the General Post Office, and the Hilton Hotel. We then boarded a second matatu and continued our journey to the opposite side of town, and the Kawangware informal settelment, more commonly referred to as a "slum". Along this second drive we traveled through a number of the "posh" neighborhoods of Nairobi, accentuating the rich-poor divide that exists here. The matatu's route had ended in one of these neighborhoods (you wouldn't guess it by the look of the matatus, but they do in fact have routes). We would complete the remainder of the trip on foot. The difference between the area in which we started our walk and where it concluded was extraordinary. We went from literally mansions that rivaled any in America, to homes one wouldn't find suitable to keep lawn tools in. In the slum, people did stare at us for being white. They came up and shook our hands, everywhere there was whispered, "Mzungu," the Swahili word for white man. Little kids followed in a group behind us with huge smiles brandished on their faces. They would yell out, "How are you?" I believe someone had taught them to say the phrase when they see a white person, and would assume that they did not know what it meant. When I responded they would smile wider and ask it again. The condition of the slum was similar to ones I had experienced in Kampala. Rows upon rows of thrown together shacks, generally consisting of wood, tin, or any other materials that could be got.

Imagine an entire town or neighborhood of a city covered in 6x6 shacks 7ft tall at best, every sq inch. There are small allies that serve as highways running anywhere that space allows. Clothes hang from lines spanning the lengths of these throughways and you are forced to duck and weave between them as children run between your legs. The majority of the adults sit and stare, dazed and seemingly numb to the world.

As the "street" started to curve and slope downwards into a little hill we reached our destination. A fenced in little compound dubbed, "Light and Power Center." There was about 20-30 kids in a big circle dancing and singing. We ducked in through the gate and joined the circle. They were singing in Swahili, but I joined in the dancing. The little kids swarmed Dave and I, fighting to hold our hands. I couldn't help but notice how much more rough housing the children were allowed to take part in. As we sat on a small hill side to hear a Bible story read, the kids reminded me of puppies, wrestling, kicking, and hitting here and there but then they would lovingly almost sit on top of one another. There was an evident caring in them, like they were each looking out for one another. It was as though they were all siblings.

The kids were served a porridge and bread. The porage was a purple-brownish sludge, tasteless save a slight sweetness thanks to an added pinch of sugar.

Dave and I went inside the center where men about my age or a little younger were making paper bags. In Kenya when a student graduates high school he or she must then wait a year to receive the results of their standardized tests (like the SATs). Therefore, unlike in the US where the majority of students can begin college the Fall after High School graduation, Kenyans have a year off. Often this time becomes a stumbling block for many youths; idly falling into any number of vices. The Light and Power Center's hope is to off set this trend, providing work to keep one busy, wages to help pay for schooling, and a buffer into real world business. They do this by making paper bags. During my visit, this small center with its 12 workers, were filling a 1,500 bag order from the United Nations. They don't usually come in on Saturdays, but even in Kenya deadlines must be met!

The bags were suprisingly elegant and the Center is capable of making a huge variety of sizes, and can screen almost any design upon them. I was given a tour by one of the men, and while sipping my porridge, before taking part in the bag making process myself. They taught me how to fold, glue, and then sit on some of the finest bags this side of the equator.

We met with a couple other people and families within the Kawangware Slum, before making the trek back to the matatu "stage" and going back into town. We purchased a phone for me downtown, and caught the orginal matatu back to David's home.

I again gave into my jet lag and napped, but this time I awoke for dinner.

Arrived in Kenya

2010-01-21T22:25:00.000-08:00

I made it into Nairobi safe and sound yesterday night around 10pm local time (2pm EST). The trip was actually one of the best I have experienced. I managed to sleep nearly the entire way; waking only for food and to watch "Out of Africa," conveniently set in Kenya... I am staying with David and Lucy Chaves through the weekend, and will be moving into a dorm room on the Church Army Africa campus on Monday. David is my mentor here in Kenya, and is currently helping me become accustomed to my new surroundings. This morning we have been reviewing my future work and going over orientation materials. The weather is beautiful, and I am extremely excited for the months to come.

Getting Ready...

2009-12-22T10:38:00.000-08:00

All my shots have been received, my packing has begun, and the donations are coming in. I want to thank everyone for their generous support. I will regularly update this blog once I get to Kenya and can begin relaying my stories and experiences to all of you.

Merry Christmas!