My Musings

Hey all. Apologies for not writing this month. It's been kind of a whirlwind, mostly because of our competing in the National Drama Festivals. It's all coming together this week when we head to Kisumu (in the western part of the country) for the final competition. I've had a real blast co-directing...

Below are some musings inspired by other YAV blogs- the brothers Josh (Kenya) and Tyler (India) Orem. I added to Josh's list below...

You know you're in Kenya when...

-the kiosk on the corner= you instant friends
-the polite "you go first wave" in traffic does not exist
- everyone can and does sing- on pitch- is a completely different story
- it'll be above 90 degrees and people still wear fleece
- a shoat or a geep is a hybrid goat/sheep and is fun to say
- if it smells like a burning rubbish heap...it probably is a burning rubbish heap
- Ugali= food staple consisting of corn meal and water: solidified on your plate AND in your stomach
- turns out, elephants don't live in their backyards, but you might pass one on the road...
- trousers= pants. pants=underwear. so it's best not to say silly things like "I got my pants all wet!"
- Intercessory Prayers during church sometimes become a shouting match over who can admit sin the loudest. The one with the mic usually wins.
- Who needs African acapella harmonies when you have a keyboard synthesizer and midi tracks? :(
-Rain= mud bath on your way to work the next morning
- Kenyans don't like cheese. So don't invite them over for dinner if you're having cheese pizza (lesson learned the hard way)
- That piece of colorful fabric can and is used several different ways: skirt, apron, baby holder, seedling spreader, picnic blanket, towel...
- Loving things made into other things! : bottle caps into jewelry, plastic bags bundled into soccer balls, tires into sandles...
-The peace sign means that one is abstaining (or "chilling") from sex, so it's important to know the context in which one flashes the symbol
- dubbed over Hispanic soap operas are primetime TV
- using God to advertise your business is effective marketing
- if you leave your shoes on the porch, someone might sneak by and clean them for you
- there is always always time for another cup of tea
- being on time is early, being a little late is still early...
- eating out: a hearty meal prepared with completely local foods probably costs $1.50
- everything is eaten with either a spoon or your hands- forks and knives are auxiliary

More to come most likely...

Much love from here,
D

Kenyan Monks and Merton

I spent two consecutive weekends in Benedictine monasteries recently. First with the kids for camping and scouting in Nanyuki (near Mt Kenya, cold, wet...). Then, in another place with the other YAVs for our bi-monthly meeting (also cold and wet, but very green---should I be complaining about cold? I'm not really...). Anyway, it's funny how feelings can transcend borders, and I definitely felt the same air of peace and tranquility that I did at the time I spent in the monastery at Gethesmene where the infamous activist and contemplative Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, lived. I was kicking myself over not bringing some of his books along with me, but I was not left completely void when I found this in my little YAV handbook. Maybe you will like it too...

Thomas Merton's, "Letter to a Young Activist"

Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, essentially an apostolic work, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the truth of the work itself. And there, too, a great deal has to be gone through, as gradually as you struggle less and less for an idea, and more and more for specific people. The range tends to narrow down, but it gets much more real. In the end, it is the reality of personal relationships that saves everything.

You are fed up with words, and I don’t blame you. I am nauseated by them sometimes. I am also, to tell you the truth, nauseated by ideals and with causes. This sounds like heresy, but I think you will understand what I mean. It is so easy to get engrossed with ideas and slogans and myths that in the end one is left holding the bag, empty, with no trace of meaning left in it. And then the temptation is to yell louder than ever in order to make the meaning be there again by magic. Going through this kind of reaction helps you to guard against this. Your system is complaining of too much verbalizing, and it is right.

…The big results are not in your hands or mine, but they suddenly happen, and we can share in them, but there is no point in building our lives on this personal satisfaction, which may be denied us and which after all is not that important.

The next step in the process is for you to see that your even thinking about what you are doing is crucially important. You are probably striving to build yourself an identity in your work, out of your work and witness. You are using it, so to speak, to protect yourself against nothingness, annihilation. That is not the right use of your work. All the good that you will do will come, not from you but from the fact that you have allowed yourself, in the obedience of faith, to be used by God’s love. Think of this more and gradually you will be free from the need to prove yourself, and you can be more open to the power that will work through you without your knowing it.

The great thing after all is to live, not to pour out your life in the service of a myth; and we turn the best things into myths. If you can get free from the domination of causes and just serve Christ’s truth, you will be able to do more and will be less crushed by the inevitable disappointments. Because I see nothing whatever in sight but much disappointment, frustration, and confusion.

The real hope, then, is not in something we think we can do, but in God who is making something good out of it in some way we cannot see. If we can do His will, we will be helping in this process. But we will not necessarily know all about it beforehand . . .

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

Make a Smilebox slideshow

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