Up and Down Prayer Mountain

I was definitely apprehensive about hiking up a mountain with a bunch of children who were fasting and praying all day. I was imagining all the whining I would have done at that age had that been my task for the day. Strenuous exercise in the hot sun not eating all day? Forget about it.

However, the tenacity of these children surprised me once again. Not only did they not complain about their rumbling stomachs, but they led the way racing up and down the mountain in flip flops and school uniforms, starting the praise songs wherever we went. I started to think about the other ways the children are leading me and what sorts of prayers were on their hearts and minds that day… Their strength extended way beyond hiking up the mountain, that’s for sure.

What has been called “Prayer Mountain,” dates back to pre-Christian times. I live in Meru, which is in the foothills of Mt. Kenya, the second highest peak in Africa next to Mt. Kilimanjaro. Prayer Mountain is one of these foothills, and offered some incredible views. The various tribes used to climb the mountain ritualistically every so often. There was a certain spot that has been lovingly nubbed into the ground where it is said that if one stands there and prays, the prayers go directly to God and are answered most- assuredly. People used to stand there day and night shouting their prayers to the world below and heaven above.

There was my bright-eyed standard six pupil who was determined not to go three steps faster than me, always looking back to make sure I hadn’t stumbled, and when I did inevitably stumble, she was always there with an emphatic, “pole! (sorry)”. As we went “slowly by slowly” as they say, we talked. She was beaming after a recent lecture she had given to her fellow pupils on HIV/AIDS after she had gone through a special peer-educator training program. I was given the highlights of the talk which also touched on girls taking extra safety precautions to avoid rape. I mentioned that even when a girl is taking precautions, sometimes bad things happen anyway and it’s not and is never her fault. She turned to me very earnestly and said, “Teacher, I know, even me, I’ve been raped, but I can’t let it stop me. I have to keep going and reaching for my dreams.” On top of this, the man who raped her was a family member who also infected her with HIV. The news was a huge blow to me. She was among the most welcoming when I first arrived, bringing me random bouquets of flowers every so often, always handing her assignments in early. If that was the prayer I had on my heart going up the mountain, I’m pretty sure I would be crawling. But she kept going, and keeps reaching.

She wants to be a counselor or a doctor in the future. Later, I saw her enveloped in the circle for people with “special concerns” on their hearts. I realized again that none of these kids has it easy. There’s my smiley and shy standard eight pupil who was on an orphan scholarship from a foreign donor. There’s my guy in standard seven who recently lost his father to complications related to alcoholism. A lot of loss, a lot of trauma in these young lives. Maybe that’s why being a part of their education system is a valuable position as a YAV. They believe in this power of education to transform, to enrich, and to empower, and it’s been a privilege to watch some of this occurring.

I’ve been trudging my way through the Old Testament as of late, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Moses as I was up on that mountain with the children. God speaking to Moses in a cloud made more sense to me having this experience. God speaks in a dark mist, in disorienting circumstances…It must have been beyond difficult for Moses to sense God amid all the haziness of the directives to liberate the Israelites. Likewise, I can imagine my pupils in these dark clouds of their own lives, wondering what they’re doing on the mountain, how God could speak through the grey mist. And then, Moses comes down from the mountain transfigured, his face shining…

I wouldn’t say they were shining back down at the bottom of the mountain, but they proudly patted their hungry stomachs and smiled at me. Something had been released, something had begun to work in them…and me.

Restreating in Zanzibar

“So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” –Jesus, Matt 6:34

I’ve told quite a few now about how I found my new favorite place in the whole wide world in Zanzibar. The beaches were beautiful, the food zesty with fresh grown spices, the history rich and interesting, the architecture refreshingly simple and different, and on top of all this I’m still asking, what made it such a special place?

Our YAV group is given the opportunity to go on retreat two times during our year, and this was our first and proclaimed “most spectacular” retreat. It was good timing for our group. Half of us teach and were gearing up for the rest of the school year, and the other half were coming off of the Christmas holiday also looking back and looking forward. There wasn’t a lot of structure to our retreat. I think our site-coordinator, the lovely Rev Phyllis Byrd-Ochilo, knew that the island kind of forbade it, sort of an unspoken rule made by the flow of things there.

I thought I would have a chance to sort everything out in my head while I was so removed from everything (there wasn’t even any electricity on the island to distract me). The deadlines for applying to programs for next year are fast approaching, my first four months in Kenya went extraordinarily fleeting - though I know I changed somehow? And then there was my immediate future of going back into teaching: a profession I find extremely humbling and still somewhat intimidating. All these things were roaming around in my head, which doesn’t know where it belongs. Half of it is back home and half is still here trying to process how it was I came to be here and not there…and…

I think my expectations were a little over-zealous for this type of trip. The waves on the ocean and the solitude you might feel while floating freely on it don’t help put things in order, but rather help you to be at peace amidst that disorder. I eventually felt at ease that I wasn’t going to figure it out, but that in the moment, my job was to appreciate the accumulation of events that led me exactly to this place. Then my job was to trust that this force that led me would somehow mysteriously continue to do so. We’ll call it my hammock epiphany. It seems simple, but I do need reminders about life being largely beyond my control. And so: I rested, and I’m learning to trust.

As to the question about the island being kind of a magical place for me, I think it was (added to the above) the hospitality of the people. Sure, it’s largely a touristy place, but there’s something genuine in their greetings. The only Kiswahili they think foreigners will understand is, “Jambo. Karibu. Hakuna Matata,” which means (if you need the translation), “Hi, welcome, have no worries.” Though cheesy, there was truth there. I didn’t really have any worries. I felt free and safe on the island. The minute we stepped off the ferry, many were there to greet us and walk us to our hostel at no charge. We made fast friends with locals that we ate and danced with, and were sad to leave by the end of our trip. When you rode on the crowded public transit, people passed you their baby to hold onto so that they could find a seat. If someone was eating fresh plums, they offered you one. We walked around at night through the winding streets without a flashlight and knew somehow we would come out on the other side right where we needed to be. Slowly throughout the course of these two days that turned into four because we couldn’t leave, the hospitality of the people, and the freedom that it creates, got under our skin. There was an unspoken agreement that this place was to be appreciated and revered, and that we could all stand aside in that glow together. We didn’t feel like big tourists by the end, but felt part of the place-free to BE, and to be happy.

Inwardly, I’m still freaking about whether or not I should go to seminary next year, if I should put if off for other things, if my relationships will be the same or different when I get back, how much I know I’ll already miss Kenya when I’m home, etc… and part of me still wishes I would have gotten some resolution on those issues. But I did get clarity that it will come together when it needs to. What I want to walk into the new year with is a simple appreciation for getting this far and gratitude for the present in which the future will become clear. I have at least that much faith.

“By the time I recognize this moment, this moment will be gone, but I will bare the light pretending that it somehow lingered on…”- John Mayer

Many Thanks

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A New Year, A New Place

Hi family and friends,

Below is a mass email kind of thing I sent out- please excuse cross postings. :)

Hello everyone,

Happy 2010! The first four months of being in Kenya have really flown by...
First and foremost, thanks are in order. I have reached and surpassed my fundraising goal thanks to all of your wonderful support. I was always a little anxious about this factor in participating in the program, but you have all shown more faith than I had. So, wow, huge thanks.

Things are going great in Kenya. It's a strange and refreshing feeling to feel so at home in such a faraway place. I feel myself streching and growing in ways I never imagined, and yet feeling rather grounded and comfortable. It's a nice tension to have. If you are not able to make it through the entire email, know that I am starting to make some great friends, am forming community with people in my town and church, and that I really love teaching and have had quite the diverse experience so far. Oh, yeah, and I saw some lions in the wild. ;)

I arrived in early September and had a month-long orientation in Nairobi with the other Young Adult Volunteers (YAVs). We were given a crash course in Kenyan history, politics, religion, economics, and language. Sad to say I have not retained a whole lot of Kiswahili as most people default to English when they see me (the other official language of the country), but there's always room for resolutions, right? We also met and stayed with our designated support families and were introduced to ugali, chapati, sukoma wiki, and various delicious tropical fruits. Our stomachs adjusted eventually, and before we knew it, it was time to go our separate ways and begin our work for the year.

Most of my group (7 total) hangs around Nairobi working at non-profits, in churches, or teaching. As some of you know, originally I was supposed to work with the YWCA. However, when I arrived, I learned that they had collected too many volunteers, and so a new placement was needed. I have not done a lot of work with children, so I was skeptical and nervous when I found out my placement was teaching at a primary school.

Meru Junior School is a private school with about 500 students preschool- 8th grade. It is a combination day and boarding school, so some students are local while others are from different parts of the country. The boarding aspect definitely enhances the community life of the school, as children are away from their parents and taught at a very young age to depend on each other. Most of my anxiousness was wiped away within the first five minutes of arriving. I got out of the van to be greeted with a full children’s chorus singing and dancing some standard African welcoming tunes. Each of them proceeded to give me a bouquet of hand-picked flowers. I was reassured exactly then that things were going to turn out ok.

I’ve been teaching 4th-6th grade English and am doing a little music with them whenever possible. I find teaching simultaneously challenging, humbling, rewarding, and creative. It’s taking me awhile to adjust to the different system and rules, but in general, kids are very warm, bright, and well-behaved. I’ve only had to break up fights when students were overly-enthusiastic about answering questions- if that gives you an indication. I definitely find that I learn as much or more from them as they do from me, and that they perform best when we're both having fun. And we are having fun, inside and outside of the classroom. They have inspired me to brush up on my meager guitar skills (and learn some new ones) to accompany them in singing. I performed with three classes for both class eight graduation and “prayer day” before that. I was also given the opportunity to chaperone the field trip to the Meru National Game Park. That’s where we saw the lions… I think I was much more excited than they were.

Outside of school, I’ve been attending a PCEA church and this dictates most of my social life. The young adult population in almost every church here is thriving- something U.S. churches can only dream of. I’ve also been lucky enough to have friends traveling to different parts of the country and letting me tag along. I even got to plant some maize and beans near Mt. Kenya for the school farm. Kenya really is a beautiful country. Mountains, rivers, ocean, coastline, rainforest, wildlife, you can’t ask for more. It’s a rainy season now, so everything is especially green and lovely.

On the whole, I’m really loving it here. I’m making great friends, being adopted into families, and building some good relationships with my students. I’m still adjusting and perpetually learning, but I’m also growing some roots. I can feel subtley my perspective and attitudes starting to change. I think a lot of it is transformative in its pace alone. Though even I will complain about the lateness of Kenyans, it really does give you that time to simply be, reflect, and recognize the sort of “holiness of the moment.” It’s also easier to live more holistically, I think. They have a good balance here. There is always time for friends and family, prayer is almost constant before and after everything, organic vegetables from the local farm are at the market for cheap, everyone sings, everyone dances, people walk most places, there is always more tea, and living simply is the norm, not the new trend.

I’ll try to bring some of this back for you all…I've been on school break since mid-November and have been in Nairobi. Unfortunately, I spent most of my break being sick with a mysterious parasite. I'm feeling better, so I hope this is an indicator of it being gone. In between rounds of medication, my work assignment was with women's and children's groups in one of the slum areas. It was a great experience. We threw a great Christmas party for some children that live there, and celebrated the end of the year with women in a micro-finance group. Again, more is on the blog if you are interested. I was able to spend Christmas with the other Americans and we ate and drank and churched to our heart's content. Our site-coordinator even indulged us with a big 'ol turkey.

Again, thank you so much for your support and prayers. It means so much to me. I think of and miss you all often.

Blessings,
Deanna

Christmas in Kenya: How the Glitter Gets In

Blog: 12/25/09

I was anxious about being away from home for my first Christmas. What big shoes of nostalgia to fill... It was wonderful, though, blessings from unexpected places.

For a certain part of the Christmas season, I was in American “gift-mode” and was brainstorming what to get all the different people I work with and am friends with. It quickly added up to quite a number, and I started to stress about how to purchase everything on a YAV stipend. In the madness, I finally stopped to ask one of these friends if gift-giving was the norm. Turns out, it’s not. Even within families sometimes, people are not always exchanging gifts. Hmmm…is this Christmas?

I was cracking up while reading my friend’s blog, who was also questioning the meaning of Christmas… I learned there that:

“St. Nicholas, as it turns out, is most famous for his gift, not of oranges, but of bags of gold to a family so poor that they could only hope to sell their daughters into prostitution. In order to avoid this damning act, Old St. Nick left bags of a gold on their doorsteps to use as a dowries for their weddings instead. That's it. That's the whole story.”

Kenyans are definitely keeping this spirit of Christmas alive. Instead of buying things for each other, most families choose to do something for others that are in need. This, they claim, is the real joy of giving and of the season. One of my friends and his mom took a homeless man into their home and gave nice meals for the holiday. The Christmas party for the children in Kibera that I worked on was sponsored and run by many other such spirited people. Ah, we haven’t lost it everywhere, it turns out.

I know it warmed my heart to see the givers and the receivers having a blast at the children’s Christmas party. Actually, I was corrected a number of times that it wasn’t their party, but that it was “Jesus’ party.” I always think it’s horribly cheesy and adorable at the same time when kids sing “Happy Birthday” to Jesus, but in this setting, it seemed oddly fitting. Jesus would want this kind of party- people gathering from the margins, eating bread and jelly sandwiches, drinking tea, singing and dancing. You see, this way we all have something and we are all sharing in this mysterious incarnation thing together.

This season, I’ve also been racking my brain about what it means to these children that “a child is born unto them…” I still haven’t really figured it out, nor do I think I ever will, but I think it’s a little bit like the glitter. You see, my job was to lead the craft portion of the party. Nothing special, just a little cut and paste job, but what I didn’t anticipate was the glitter factor. Glittery paper trees were only the beginning, as I would soon find out. There were glittery fingers, glittery faces, glittery tables and chairs, glittery hair, glittery clothes, a glittery floor, etc. It was a fun phenomenon how this little craft transformed the hearts and faces of these little ones, as well as a dirty and dingy church into something that sparkled. And maybe that’s how this mysterious birth comes into our lives too. It’s in these little specs that reflect light and cling to you and everything else.

My flecks of glittery Christmas this year came in the form of Grace, our adopted grandmother in Kenya. She took us to church, then took us home for a delicious meal and homemade eggnog. Our little lost American group fell asleep by the fireplace on Christmas Eve while listening to the likes of Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby on vinyl. Pretty perfect, save teleporting my family.

Here’s to you and yours! And here’s some pics… J

Deanna

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.