On Wednesday, I will leave for a weeklong trip to Mombasa, where I will get my first look at the Indian Ocean! I will travel with Fr. Chris and two college students that both came from impoverished circumstances and have been helped by the Capuchin friars. One of the students was an orphan in a Nomadic tribe in East Kenya until he was taken in by the friars.
Due to the trip, I will not be able to write for another week. However, when I return, I am sure that I will have some good stories and pictures!
This past week, I have spent my time organizing the details for my teaching at Pumwani Girls' Secondary School. I will teach Math and English to the freshman and sophomores. The students come from one of the poorest areas in Nairobi (many of them live in the slums), so I will have a tremendous opportunity to improve the lives of my students through education. School ends this week and then it will start back up in September, which is when I will begin teaching. During the break period, I will spend the majority of my time helping the people in the Bush. Specifically, I will help them farm!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
The Village People!
Today marks the end of the first week, which were days of excitement and anxiety aroused from entering a completely new environment—an environment imbued with unfamiliar dangers and conventions. As the week has come to a close, my mind has started to relax and I have been able to analyze my situation more clearly. The recurring conclusion over the past few days has been this: I have been blest. This opportunity of mine in Kenya is by all means extraordinary.
Here is just one of the reasons why I have been blest:
On our final destination in the Bush, Fr. Chris and I found ourselves in a locale tucked far away from civilization. It was amidst hills strewn with brambles, rocks, and ruddy dirt—a place vaguely reminiscent of the Texas Hill Country.
Upon arriving at a small village, we came upon some of the elderly sitting outside one of the quaint houses, working on making rope from the strands of a local species of plants.
As more of the elderly came, the group gathered in a circle so they could engage in a discussion with Fr. Chris (whose childhood was spent in this very village). I simply sat and listened, as Fr. Chris and the local villagers spoke in their native dialect known as Kikamba (Fr. Chris was the only one that could speak English).
After about twenty minutes of discussion, Fr. Chris informed me that the villagers wanted us to wait, because some of the elderly and a few of the young adults were still walking to the gathering from their homes outside of the village center (note that no body in the village has a car). While we waited, Fr. Chris and I walked about, so he could show me the details of the project he wants me to help with.
Fr. Chris stated that the locals have been asking for a Catholic church for several years now, as the nearest one is several kilometers away. Presently, instead of attending mass, the villagers hold prayer meetings in some of the local houses. However, there are 200 villagers, which means they cannot worship together, although the Kamba tribal people are very close knit and the church serves as the center gathering place of the community.
For this reason, Fr. Chris stated that he wanted to raise money to build a church in the village, although the building would cost $20,000. Once it is built, the priest from the closest town has already committed to holding mass every Sunday at the new church. Fr. Chris then asked me, “Do you think this is a good idea?”
I looked at him, then I looked slowly across the village, and then I peered back at him. I stated, “I don’t want to say that this is a bad idea. However, look at this village. Would we be maximzing the use of $20,000 if we built the church, considering how scarce our funds are in Kenya? These people drink the water from the river, they seem to have relatively primitive farming techniques, they have a horrendous road that leads into the place, and they have absolutely no access to electricity. Could we not utilize the money in a different way to greatly improve the standard of living in the community?”
Fr. Chris smiled, and then responded, “As you know, they have access to the well that was developed by me several months ago, and they go to it when the river dries up (the well is a located a little farther off). Also, the land is productive and many of the young adults are now employeed in the local stores, so they do not have trouble with food supplies. The people might be poor, but they have all of their basic needs met. Yet, as you have seen in Kenya, the church would be the source and pride of their community. Furthermore, attached to the church will be two classrooms, which will be used as an early primary school/nursery, since the school closer to town does not offer Pre-K and Kindergarten (ages 3-6 in Kenya).”
While this sounded nice, I hadn't made my mind up about the church yet.
As we finished our discussion and tour around Fr. Chris’ childhood stoomping grounds, we returned to the gathering. More people had come, and they were enthralled to see a Mzungo walking about in their village, so they looked at me with perplexed but excited stares. The ladies were working on shelling beans, as you can see below:
After Fr. Chris opened the meeting and discussed the present situation with the church, he told me that the villagers present wanted to sing one of their spirituals for me! Here it is in living color:
If I stumbled upon such a village in America a mere week ago, my heart would have ached with sadness and pity. Look how little they have! Yet, I believe that sadness would have been a deception. What would bring greater joy to the lives of these people? Would it be material abundance, which is attached with the stress and worries of modern life and the depressing realization that you could always have more? Or, would it be a spiritual home, where the villagers can gather together to kindle their simple faith in a God that brings them peace and purpose, and where they can gather together to revel in their vibrant community? If these people have all of their basic needs met, I say the latter. This may seem starkly wrong to the American mindset, but I wouldn’t expect that many Americans have seen the joy born from simplicity as it is manifested in rural Kenya.
Over the next week, I have decided to start this project. I will be in contact with friends from back home to help me spearhead fundraising, and I will ensure that Fr. Chris and I have all of the details about construction and the use of the building afterward planned out.
Here is just one of the reasons why I have been blest:
On our final destination in the Bush, Fr. Chris and I found ourselves in a locale tucked far away from civilization. It was amidst hills strewn with brambles, rocks, and ruddy dirt—a place vaguely reminiscent of the Texas Hill Country.
Upon arriving at a small village, we came upon some of the elderly sitting outside one of the quaint houses, working on making rope from the strands of a local species of plants.
As more of the elderly came, the group gathered in a circle so they could engage in a discussion with Fr. Chris (whose childhood was spent in this very village). I simply sat and listened, as Fr. Chris and the local villagers spoke in their native dialect known as Kikamba (Fr. Chris was the only one that could speak English).
After about twenty minutes of discussion, Fr. Chris informed me that the villagers wanted us to wait, because some of the elderly and a few of the young adults were still walking to the gathering from their homes outside of the village center (note that no body in the village has a car). While we waited, Fr. Chris and I walked about, so he could show me the details of the project he wants me to help with.
Fr. Chris stated that the locals have been asking for a Catholic church for several years now, as the nearest one is several kilometers away. Presently, instead of attending mass, the villagers hold prayer meetings in some of the local houses. However, there are 200 villagers, which means they cannot worship together, although the Kamba tribal people are very close knit and the church serves as the center gathering place of the community.
For this reason, Fr. Chris stated that he wanted to raise money to build a church in the village, although the building would cost $20,000. Once it is built, the priest from the closest town has already committed to holding mass every Sunday at the new church. Fr. Chris then asked me, “Do you think this is a good idea?”
I looked at him, then I looked slowly across the village, and then I peered back at him. I stated, “I don’t want to say that this is a bad idea. However, look at this village. Would we be maximzing the use of $20,000 if we built the church, considering how scarce our funds are in Kenya? These people drink the water from the river, they seem to have relatively primitive farming techniques, they have a horrendous road that leads into the place, and they have absolutely no access to electricity. Could we not utilize the money in a different way to greatly improve the standard of living in the community?”
Fr. Chris smiled, and then responded, “As you know, they have access to the well that was developed by me several months ago, and they go to it when the river dries up (the well is a located a little farther off). Also, the land is productive and many of the young adults are now employeed in the local stores, so they do not have trouble with food supplies. The people might be poor, but they have all of their basic needs met. Yet, as you have seen in Kenya, the church would be the source and pride of their community. Furthermore, attached to the church will be two classrooms, which will be used as an early primary school/nursery, since the school closer to town does not offer Pre-K and Kindergarten (ages 3-6 in Kenya).”
While this sounded nice, I hadn't made my mind up about the church yet.
As we finished our discussion and tour around Fr. Chris’ childhood stoomping grounds, we returned to the gathering. More people had come, and they were enthralled to see a Mzungo walking about in their village, so they looked at me with perplexed but excited stares. The ladies were working on shelling beans, as you can see below:
After Fr. Chris opened the meeting and discussed the present situation with the church, he told me that the villagers present wanted to sing one of their spirituals for me! Here it is in living color:
After the singing, Fr. Chris had a short meeting with the chairwoman of the church project, and I found the children! After giving them high-fives and fist pumps (which is traditional Kenyan), we took some pictures:
If I stumbled upon such a village in America a mere week ago, my heart would have ached with sadness and pity. Look how little they have! Yet, I believe that sadness would have been a deception. What would bring greater joy to the lives of these people? Would it be material abundance, which is attached with the stress and worries of modern life and the depressing realization that you could always have more? Or, would it be a spiritual home, where the villagers can gather together to kindle their simple faith in a God that brings them peace and purpose, and where they can gather together to revel in their vibrant community? If these people have all of their basic needs met, I say the latter. This may seem starkly wrong to the American mindset, but I wouldn’t expect that many Americans have seen the joy born from simplicity as it is manifested in rural Kenya.
Over the next week, I have decided to start this project. I will be in contact with friends from back home to help me spearhead fundraising, and I will ensure that Fr. Chris and I have all of the details about construction and the use of the building afterward planned out.
Friday, July 23, 2010
The BUSH! (not to be confused with George W.)
Oh sweet extravagance! I have returned from a two day journey into the undeveloped Bush of Kenya to the pleasures of civilized Nairobi. Unlike the Bush, in Nairobi I can find electricity (although it is intermittent and must not be relied upon), flowing water (although it is diseased and must be boiled before use), easily accessible food (although it is not always sanitary and I must hold my breath as I eat some of it), the possibility of a shower (although it is frigid and must be used sparingly), and toilets (although there is not always toilet paper and it typically reeks). Despite all of these pleasures of the civilized world, I cannot wait to return to the Bush in August when I will be there for a full month.
My trip to the Bush came quickly, as Fr. Christopher wanted me to see his home, where I could meet his family, see his farm, and begin a special project in one of the rural-most villages. Fr. Christopher’s home in the Bush is located two hours outside of Nairobi in the region of the Kamba tribe (Fr. Chris is a member of this tribe). The Kamba tribe consists of several million people, and the vast majority of the members that still live in the Bush go without a car, electricity, and running water (they either get it from the rivers or walk great distances to a well). However, there may be a dearth in comforts, but there is an abundance of joy and life flowing through the people.
My first stop in the Kamba land was Fr. Christopher’s farm, which he generously splits among his family during the growing season, so they can farm it and provide for themselves. Since it is not the growing season, only Fr. Chris’ uncle and the four children of Chris’ deceased brother live on the farm. Here is a picture of the uncle and the children outside of their two room house:
Here is a picture of what I saw when I walked into the house:
Fr. Chris recently raised the funds to bore a hole for a well and to purchase a pump to provide his family and the local villagers with clean water. Now, with the farm and the 2 room house, Fr. Chris has helped his family meet their basic needs. However, all four children and the uncle sleep together on the bed to the right in the picture above. They do not have enough money to buy another mattress for the bed on the left, so Fr. Chris told me that he planned to buy them one in order that they would have two usable beds, although it would be a couple of months before he got the money. However, when Fr. Chris and I went to the supermarket for drinkable water, there was a good mattress being sold for 2,000 Kenya Shillings, which is a mere $25. After consulting with Fr. Chris, I bought the mattress. Now the family will put the old mattress you see above on the bed to the left (it is a twin mattress although it was on a double bed). Here is the new double mattress and part of the family:
When they saw the mattress, the children were jumping for joy, and the uncle shook my hand about ten times and kept on repeating “thank you.” The $3.50 football in the picture came from Fr. Chris and me also, because the children didn’t have one (or any other toys). Once the kids from the local community heard about the football and the Mzungo (which means “white person” in Swahili), they came to play:
Note that the house in the background is not on Fr. Chris’ land. It is probably the nicest house that I saw in the whole area. By the way, Fr. Chris is the man in the blue shirt.
Next, Fr. Chris and I journeyed to his mother and father’s house. On the way, we stopped by the rural secondary school, which is teaching the children how to farm and provide for their families, along with offering them the basics of education. Some of these students will even have the opportunity to go to college. Here is a picture of me and some of the students during their lunch (which consisted only of bean soup):
Then, we traveled to Fr. Chris’ home, which only can be accessed by a trail that a car could never dream of driving on. Once we arrived at the home (which Fr. Chris provided for his parents some ten years ago), I simply met the parents and Fr. Chris’ brother, who was working on a small farm behind the house. Here is a picture of the parents and the brother’s children:
Monday, July 19, 2010
And so it begins!
I've already ran into my first difficulty: I've only been here for two and a half days, and I could write a whole novel about my experiences. I've been to most of the states across the U.S., and I've been to Mexico, Switzerland, Germany, Italy, and Ireland; yet, no place remotely compares to Kenya. As soon as I stepped off the plane, I entered into a completely unfamiliar world. Due to the vast array of experiences that I will have in Africa, I have decided to only write about the most peculiar in order to prevent myself from writing too much. So, here I go:
After an intimidating drive through the dilapidated streets of Nairobi, I arrived at my new home, St. Brigid Franciscan Friary, on Saturday, July 17th. I was escorted by a professor of political science who studies corruption in the government (even though he is apparently funded by the government...). Thirty seconds after arriving at the friary, I was shuffled over to my first notable experience. Fr. Christopher, who is the Franciscan friar who helped to organize my mission to Kenya, was across the street at the Starehe Boys Centre. The Starehe Boys Centre is a boarding school for impoverished youth whose mission is to offer the students an outstanding education, so that they can then go off to college (95% go to college and many of them go off to prestigious universities abroad). In fact, on Sunday, I met a student who will go to Boston in September to finish his final year of high school, and then he plans to go to Stanford.
On this day, the President of Kenya was speaking at the school to celebrate the tremendous impact that Starehe has had on disadvantaged youth. Upon entering the campus, I was given a full body search by soldiers holding intimidating guns. When I arrived at the celebration, I saw a sea of hundreds of black faces. I mentioned to my escort, "I don't stand out, do I?" He gave me a funny look, so I assume that he didn't get my humor. We listened to the president and other dignitaries, but I did not get a chance to actually meet them.
However, during the fanfare, we found Fr. Christopher (the friar who is generously helping me). There are not words to describe Fr. Christopher, as he is something of a legend among the people of Nairobi. He seems to be everywhere at once, helping the people in abject poverty with his spiritual guidance and charisma. Yet, he does his work in complete humility. As soon as we met him, we left the celebration, returned to my new home at St. Brigid Friary, I was shown my room, and then I slept from 5 PM until 8AM the next morning!
The next morning was Sunday. Fr. Christopher was scheduled to preach at 3 different masses: at Starehe Boys' Centre, at a church in the heart of the Nairobi slums, and at another impoverished church for the people of Fr. Christopher's tribe (the Kamba tribe). Again it is hard to describe these churches, but I expect that if a Westerner man who has grown sleepy with his religion was to enter one of these worship celebrations with singing and dancing and heartfelt speaking, he would be jolted awake.
So I don't continue writing so much, I just want to talk about my church experience in the slums. The slums look like the pictures we see on television in America, except for when you are actually there, the harsh reality of it is painfully felt. The pain is felt when you breathe in the awful smells of sewage and burning trash, when you see the fields of shanties woven tightly together with scraps of materials and mud, and when you see the dejected people frantically trying to earn money in the streets by selling their meager goods. Yet, when you enter into the church, the people come to life. The people may face the harshest of poverty, but their belief in God grants them solace and peace of mind, along with invigorating them with a spirit to continue to fight to better their lives. The church was packed from wall to wall, with people standing outside for lack of room, and the whole congregation raised their voices in singing. This is not like the poverty that I have seen in America. In U.S. poverty, you see lonely individuals who have lost hope in themselves; yet, in this Nairobi church, I saw families drawn closer together by their struggles and by their desire to serve and worship God.
It happens that the school that I will be teaching at, Pumwani Secondary School, serves the children from these slums. I am excited to soon be a part of their lives, as I recognize that although I will be teaching them, I will be learning perhaps even more from their joy born from their humility and simplicity.
After an intimidating drive through the dilapidated streets of Nairobi, I arrived at my new home, St. Brigid Franciscan Friary, on Saturday, July 17th. I was escorted by a professor of political science who studies corruption in the government (even though he is apparently funded by the government...). Thirty seconds after arriving at the friary, I was shuffled over to my first notable experience. Fr. Christopher, who is the Franciscan friar who helped to organize my mission to Kenya, was across the street at the Starehe Boys Centre. The Starehe Boys Centre is a boarding school for impoverished youth whose mission is to offer the students an outstanding education, so that they can then go off to college (95% go to college and many of them go off to prestigious universities abroad). In fact, on Sunday, I met a student who will go to Boston in September to finish his final year of high school, and then he plans to go to Stanford.
On this day, the President of Kenya was speaking at the school to celebrate the tremendous impact that Starehe has had on disadvantaged youth. Upon entering the campus, I was given a full body search by soldiers holding intimidating guns. When I arrived at the celebration, I saw a sea of hundreds of black faces. I mentioned to my escort, "I don't stand out, do I?" He gave me a funny look, so I assume that he didn't get my humor. We listened to the president and other dignitaries, but I did not get a chance to actually meet them.
However, during the fanfare, we found Fr. Christopher (the friar who is generously helping me). There are not words to describe Fr. Christopher, as he is something of a legend among the people of Nairobi. He seems to be everywhere at once, helping the people in abject poverty with his spiritual guidance and charisma. Yet, he does his work in complete humility. As soon as we met him, we left the celebration, returned to my new home at St. Brigid Friary, I was shown my room, and then I slept from 5 PM until 8AM the next morning!
The next morning was Sunday. Fr. Christopher was scheduled to preach at 3 different masses: at Starehe Boys' Centre, at a church in the heart of the Nairobi slums, and at another impoverished church for the people of Fr. Christopher's tribe (the Kamba tribe). Again it is hard to describe these churches, but I expect that if a Westerner man who has grown sleepy with his religion was to enter one of these worship celebrations with singing and dancing and heartfelt speaking, he would be jolted awake.
So I don't continue writing so much, I just want to talk about my church experience in the slums. The slums look like the pictures we see on television in America, except for when you are actually there, the harsh reality of it is painfully felt. The pain is felt when you breathe in the awful smells of sewage and burning trash, when you see the fields of shanties woven tightly together with scraps of materials and mud, and when you see the dejected people frantically trying to earn money in the streets by selling their meager goods. Yet, when you enter into the church, the people come to life. The people may face the harshest of poverty, but their belief in God grants them solace and peace of mind, along with invigorating them with a spirit to continue to fight to better their lives. The church was packed from wall to wall, with people standing outside for lack of room, and the whole congregation raised their voices in singing. This is not like the poverty that I have seen in America. In U.S. poverty, you see lonely individuals who have lost hope in themselves; yet, in this Nairobi church, I saw families drawn closer together by their struggles and by their desire to serve and worship God.
It happens that the school that I will be teaching at, Pumwani Secondary School, serves the children from these slums. I am excited to soon be a part of their lives, as I recognize that although I will be teaching them, I will be learning perhaps even more from their joy born from their humility and simplicity.
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