3rd and 4th Weeks of Advent: Love and Joy

Blog Post

12/21/09

"Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all."

-Emily Dickinson

Hope you are all doing well and are given the gift of time to enjoy the season. I miss home a lot- even the snow. “White Christmas” played recently on my matatu route, and I chuckled to myself out loud. Christmas definitely looks a lot different here- not only with it being summer instead of winter, but also there is just less. Less Christmas lights strewn about, less presents under the tree, and less stress. I think there is more emphasis and attention paid to our Advent pillars here of love and joy, mostly because, well, there isn’t as much other “stuff” to crowd it out.

I had a fantastic week. I met and worked with Susan, a social worker that operates HARC- The Hope and Reconciliation Center in Kibera. I donned my new title as children’s party planner and we got to work for the preparations of the end-of-the-year Christmas party for 150 children that she runs a weekly Sunday School for. I also was granted the opportunity to visit a women’s micro-finance group for the parents of those children earlier in the week.

It was my first time in Kibera, which is arguably the largest slum in Africa: home to about 1.5 million people. I was glad for the opportunity to be there, mostly because I feel as if it’s framed my whole experience in a much broader context. We’ve spent our fair share of time rubbing elbows with the upper classes here, relationships granted mostly because we’re Americans and we speak English. I value this experience as well for what it is. It’s important to realize that Kenya’s identity is not wrapped up solely in its poverty level, but it is also important to realize it is part of its reality and the country’s struggle.

The view was breathtaking, but not in the good sense. We weaved our way in and out of tin shanty after tin shanty, many huge garbage heaps, and feeble bridges covering the sewage streams. It wasn’t just my parasitic fever that started to make me shaky, but rather its harshness. We eventually made it to where we were going, which was another non-descript shanty that blended in with the rest on top of a hill. All I could see for miles were these tin roofs reflecting the harsh sun. I felt swallowed and small.

Contrasting the disparity, the sound of singing made its way down to where we were standing. It was a beautiful tune, joyful with clapping, signaling the start of the women’s meeting. The 30 + women welcomed us into the dirt floored meeting room with no windows. I couldn’t understand the Kiswahili, but I think I understood what was happening. After a few more songs, there were prayers, and then a speaker gave a message. At one point, she was swept away by emotion and started crying during her speech. Then, most of the women started crying together. Simultaneously, prayers began to break out. Loud ones that everyone uttered in desperate tones at the same time. Then silence.

It was somewhat out-of-body, and mostly confusing, but processing it later, it spoke to me on a couple of levels. It made me think of this Emily Dickinson quote, “Pain is missed in Praise.” All too often, the church overlooks the important process of grieving, or even simply recognizing the depth of suffering encountered every day. I think this neglect is particularly destructive here where situations are sometimes blamed on those who are suffering because they did not- pray enough, give enough, aren’t “saved” enough. But this was refreshing in that what was needed was a good cry. Experienced in the communal context, it was healing and it was honest. They have a harsh reality- situations largely bigger and beyond their control no matter how hard they’ve ____ enough.

The ancient writings of the Desert Fathers speak of “the gift of tears,” and I think this was true here. The ability to mourn their losses and struggles made way for joy. Because what followed after the silence was a prayer, then a solo voice, then a loud chorus broke out with dancing. Usually, I am pretty self-conscious of my mediocre moves, especially in front of people I don’t know, but I held nothing back this time. I wouldn’t be able to recall another time when I needed “to dance it out,” more than that moment. I was surprised to find my own anxieties and fears working themselves out in that room, singing and dancing with women from the other side of the world that didn’t speak my language. God this way, “turning mourning into dancing,” in this case, literally.

"While I dance I cannot judge, I cannot hate, I cannot separate myself from life. I can only be joyful and whole." -Hans Bos

2nd Week of Advent: Peace in Process

"Our actions matter, and can bend history in the direction of justice." -President Barack Obama

I know I’m a week behind on my Advent series, but I’ll try to catch up. Last week, peace was the theme of the candle. The angels that came to announce the birth of Christ proclaimed, “Glory to God in the highest. Peace on earth…” Advent is the season of expectation, and in this case, we’re told to expect peace. Jesus, the “prince of peace.”

It’s an interesting time to study the subject. My president just received the Nobel Peace Prize while sending more troops to fight a second war. Strange on a lot of levels. Here, they don’t understand when we talk about “deploying troops,” or what it means to fight in a world war, but they know conflict within their own borders. Two years ago this month, some of the worst violence in the country’s history broke out over a disputed election. The wounds are still very fresh. Last weekend, I went to a “Peace Concert” in Nairobi’s central park, which was an effort to bring people together in reverence and remembrance of the events that took place. It was pretty relaxed until… it wasn’t anymore. Some minor mob mentality broke out at the end. Bottles were smashed, the security started hampering down, half the crowd of mostly youth started running away towards the city. Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a big deal, except with the overtones of the concert’s aim, it gave me an eerie feeling about how fragile the state of things are here.

We recently had a small informal devotion and were sharing different places where we’ve felt or seen peace here. With what had happened that weekend, I was hard pressed to find something. Tribalism, as defined by a local op-ed contributor as,"a conscious choice to discriminate against others who speak a language other than your own or who do not share in your particular culture…" is still thriving here. Makes one worried for their 2012 elections and whether or not their forming constitution will indeed pass and unify its people. Overall, I felt a lot of tension, not peace.

It was ironic, then, that I felt most at peace this week coming face to face with the issue. There was a photo exhibit downtown displaying some of the worst of the violence for all to see. The pictures were expertly composed, but horrifying, and yet incredibly moving in the way that makes you want to change. I was also moved by what the NGO surrounding the photos was trying to do. Representatives were preaching to the onlookers about the need to expose the wounds in order to heal them. Before we can look forward, they urged, we must first of all LOOK . Only then, within an honest confrontation of the conflict, can we reach inside for the solutions that won’t let the future be the same. So, I’m in the looking stage right now, and that’s a good and healthy place to be, I think. At least I’m in some good company.

For now, it is the internal peace that I feel most prevalently in Kenya. When you ask, “How are you?” (Habari yako?) in Kiswahili, a common response is “Salama,” or, “I have peace.” It doesn’t answer the question necessarily, but is indicative of something, I believe, a little deeper that doesn’t sway with the comings and goings of the day’s emotion. I see it here, the inward peace manifested outwardly… in the way a child always carries the mother’s things for her, in how a mother wraps a child lovingly in a kitanga cloth to keep her close, in how there is always fresh milk on hand in case visitors come for tea time, and in how there is always time: for prayer, for a good conversation, and for family in its many extensions. Let us, "prepare the way..." inward, and then onward. But let us not move forward too quickly, for it is this internal peace communicated that is truly transformative.

"If in our daily life we can smile, if we can be peaceful and happy, not only we, but everyone will profit from it. This is the most basic kind of peace work.” -Thich Nhat Hanh

PS: on an unrelated health update, I think they finally figured out what I had and am definitely on the road to recovery. thanks for the prayers.

KenyaNews Round-Up

Not only are Kenyans very politically engaged and aware about what is happening in their own country, but I also frequently receive updates on U.S. and other international news from my Kenyan friends. So as part of our exchange here, I thought it would be good to post some current Kenyan events for those that are interested in learning some more about what's going on where I am.

1.) The climate change talks in Copenhagen. Kenya is rooting for some real change and for people to speak out about the countries that suffer the most from climate change. Kenya has suffered one of the worst droughts in its history this past year, and because of it are now suffering food and water shortages all over the country. Not to mention the huge damaging effects it has on the country's already feeble economy... I bet this lady will shake things up.

2.) Mau Forest Evictions. The Kenyan government is evicting thousands of people from the biggest green area of the country. Controversy is over whether or not the squatters have a place to go home to, or if they are being evicted to homelessness. The controversy extends to who had land rights in the first place and whether or not that matters in the name of the conservation of this precious resource for the country and for the world.

3.) Kenyans are in the process of drafting their very own constitution. Kenya has been an independent nation since 1964, but has never changed the constitution since the time of British rule. Many attempts of writing a new constitution have been made in the past decade or so, but disagreements have stalled the process tremendously. Currently, pressure from the U.S. and the U.N. following the post election violence in 2007 has helped the process the move along. Kenyans would like to put the constitution into place before the next elections in 2012. One particularly hot area of debate is what a coalition government (between a prime minister and a president) would look like and what kind of power-sharing they would have.

4.) Cholera Outbreak. Especially in areas hard-hit by the drought, cholera is devastating the country. Already, 4,700 cases have been found in the past month and 119 deaths have been reported. A very sad state of affairs. The article linked above talks about this being a "disease of poverty," as the cure for cholera is mostly large amounts of clean water- an expensive commodity during this time.

5.) A move for reform. It was only two years ago this month that Kenya broke out into one of its most violent times in its history following the election of President Kabaki and Prime Minister Raila Odinga. Former UN Secretary General and mediator, Kofi Annan, visited the country recently to check on Kenya's progress towards reforms. The draft constitution is one avenue, reorganizing the police force is another, and making the anti-corruption committee stronger and responsible for prosecuting those that committed some of the worst crimes during the period of post-election violence are some ways that the country is moving in the right direction.

1st Week of Advent: Susceptibility and Hope

Conveniently, I got pretty sick during a time of transition and my school holiday. It took about two weeks of tests to diagnose me with…food poisoning. It wasn’t malaria. Not typhoid. No chance of cholera, but food poisoning. I’m affectionately calling it “righteous food poisoning” to account for my suffering. I was finally put on the right kind of antibiotics, and now I’m feeling much better. I even started a new job.

Not being used to the types of antibodies here, I’m susceptible to a new host of possible illnesses. This was my turn and it was easily curable. And that’s what was so striking to me. On day #2 of antibiotics, I was a new person. The scope of these infections is so widespread and damaging, but the solution has already been found. I found this article written by a worker in neighboring Rwanda.

He writes, “parasitic and bacterial infections…are the most common chronic infections among the world’s poorest people…These ailments… not only lead to pain, discomfort and the distended bellies you often see in pictures of poor, malnourished children; they also cripple entire generations. Infections reach maximum intensity in the age range of five to 14 years, effectively stunting both physical and mental development at the most critical time in the victims’ lives.”

This writer goes onto explain the subtle threat of these parasites and their hindrance to development. There are others on the list: malaria, typhoid, HIV/AIDS getting the most press. But the article resonates with my gut feeling, “we can do something about this…” Living in poverty makes one susceptible to infinitely more life-threatening dangers, but it does not have to be a death sentence.

All too often it is.

This being World AIDS week has made me think about how living with HIV is very different in other parts of the world. This year’s theme was “Universal Access and Human Rights.” It brings attention to the fact that the vast majority of people infected with HIV/AIDS are in low-income countries and do not have the kind of access required to put a significant decrease in the statistics. In Kenya, I am happy to say that the rate of infection and of death due to HIV/AIDs has been reduced. However, 1.4 million people here have HIV, and more than half of the people who need life-saving drugs are not getting them. I celebrate what is being done and say it proves only how much more we can do.

I started working for a new organization this week called Catholic Relief Services. My job is nothing glamorous, but I do what needs to be done (in this case, data entry) for an organization that is really doing things. They give comprehensive care all over Kenya. They are quick to point out that poverty has many faces, and most recently, these faces have been most devastatingly affected by the drought. One of the ways we might not think about right away is the drought halting many people's HIV treatment, since the medication must be balanced by good nutrition, which is hard to come by during drought times. When there is no rain, there is no food, no water, no livestock, which also means there is no income, which means no medical care, which means…the cycle continues. And to complete the circle, there is no rain because there is global warming, and there is global warming because…well, because of us, mostly. We are not so far removed. We are all connected.

My new roommates and I (other YAVs in Nairobi) made an advent wreath last night out of recycled things. The first candle during this first week of Advent represents hope. Recently, I felt really connected to chapter 5 in Lamentations. It felt like the writer was lamenting current events in Kenya, and even in that context there is still, “Restore us to yourself, O LORD, that we may return; renew our days as of old.” Hope. After a bleak blog entry, I maintain my hope in things seen- programs that are working, people that are reached-and things unseen- a world where susceptibility turns to sustainability, and where we don’t put a cost on the saving of a life.