Holiday Highlights

For one on break, I have spent precious few days in my own house. Not that am complaining seeing as I have been house bound as a direct result of school. I set out to revive what's left of my pre-seminary friendship network and actually participate in some kind of ministry these last six weeks.

I have always enjoyed playing host to American short term teams. Its not just because its fun (its actually very exhausting) but because I see that as ministry. With three separate teams having left now, I can say I have had plenty of opportunities for service. I met some “old friends” and made new relationships.

For good reason, the repeat offenders were my favourites. I had interesting conversations around my experiences at school and the changes in their lives as they have transitioned from college to workforce. One girl was already trying to arrange how to come back here and participate in a longer programme. Another one was celebrating the complete repayment of those crippling college loans and the opportunity this was giving her to plan for long term missionary work in Africa. In the meantime, she took every opportunity to eat as much Kenyan food as she could get. After having it likened to English food, this was like healing balm. I also spent a bit of time encouraging a brother to start figuring out what to do with his college loans, the viability of a seminary education etc and quit sitting around wringing his hands. I tried to be gentle.

Best of all, was the return of a retired missionary for a couple of days. For one who has lived in East and West Africa 26 years, this was a return home. Finally, I could whine about NEGST to the one person who recommended I attend. As usual there was no sympathy. Some things never change. It was great to watch him interact with his college ministry students now working and looking responsible. His joy of seeing us “all grown up” was obvious. In a conversation I had with him, he said that seeing the people he had invested his life in also discipling others was a testimony of God's work in 'his many children'. One of the crew, now a missionary with the navigators, said that this is what he wants his life to be about. Amen.

The new faces took turns being eager to learn, annoying, clueless, loud, scared and bewildered. One team had their first fight delayed and consequently missed all the connecting flights after that. It took them 72 hours to get to Nairobi having had to fly to Jo'burg to get a Nairobi connection. And of course, they had not seen their luggage since check-in at the first airport. Those that finally got their luggage back waited 24hours after their arrival. It must have been the exhaustion levels that led to someone mistaking the miniature Imperial Lather on his bed for a bar of chocolate. Happy travels! This one took ages to move from point A to B. It felt like one had to drag them to just get them to get into a van. Another team impressed me with their eagerness to learn. Many picked up Swahili words fast, took time to seek out our opinions and listened. As usual tailgating, which could be classified as a Nairobi sport, and aggressive driving transformed them into wide eyed, white knuckled passengers for our collective entertainment.

For the last few weeks, I have traversed town to get people to different places on foot and in cabs just for them to decide the previous place had a better deal. One person asked me if I was ok taking them to the other side of town (Westlands) to get a trinket. When I replied in the affirmative he asked if I was sure. Honestly, we had been around town for hours and he wanted to leave at rush hour? I was exhausted and still had to get home quite a distance away. “If you are not ok with this, just tell us.” I know he meant it. It wasn't ok, but I couldn't say so. Why? I took the advice of my western teachers and friends on how to deal with an ethnocentric American missionary. The resulting agony and soul searching, on my part, has taken weeks to sort out. Why?

Several experiences have led me to ask good questions about me, my culture and mission. I will unpack them in a series of entries for the sake of conversation but mostly as a thinking process.

Wedding Bells

My friends Joe and Pipa get married today. Its supposed to be the happiest day of their lives and I am supposed to be happy for them.

Except that Joe does not know what Pipa's middle name, her favourite colour or what her pet peeves are. In fact he does not care. Why should he? Joe needs a wife in short order. The piles of dirty clothing need sorting, washing and ironing. That kitchen is brimming with dirty dishes and crawlies of all sorts. It needs through cleaning. Whatever Pipa's favourite colour or her middle name be, it has nothing to do with the job at hand.

Pipa on the other hand does not know who Joe is despite the fact that they have been neighbours for years. She was minding her own business before the recent events. You see, Pipa lost her job a few days ago and bills are piling up. She needs a secure income and Joe was offering marriage. So why not? Why not indeed.

Maybe the memory of the fortnightly feminine screams from Joe's flat would have stopped another but not Pipa. She had seen the black eyes and the bruises at the communal tap before. In fact, she saw one just like that two weeks ago on another woman. Its the tax man come to collect she reckons. Pipa wants to have a roof over her head and Joe is paying. There is enough time to know each other and an environment for Joe to change after the wedding.

Everyone is cheering. Pipa now bears a gold band and I a purple pinkie. She is not smiling. Neither am I.