So this was census week in Kenya, which I have to admit, is pretty exciting for me. As a math and economics nerd, this is about as close to nirvana as you can get, lots of counting, lots of statistics, all in relation to economic decisions/domestic policy. It’s like voting but you only have to participate with your existence. In a lot of ways, it is a privilege to be counted. To be counted is to be known, to exist. Every time the government or some official references Kajiado district, I’ll now be one of the people they talk about. I affect the “literacy rate” “poverty rate”, all these rates that you hear thrown around in politics. Since they were counted, my neighbors might actually get some of the services they deserve from the government, like the teachers that are promised to local schools but have to be paid for by parents. It’s exciting that a set of mundane questions can have so much impact, and rich and poor can participate equally (in theory).
In many countries, avoiding a census is a major political tool. If you don’t count the people, you can cite ignorance when you don’t do what you’re supposed to. “Half the people aren’t educated….that’s news to me, I thought our population was just half as big.” Or, it can be used as a tool to marginalize certain people groups, invisible communities that the government can wish away and oppress because they don’t even exist in the eyes of the world. One thing you hear a lot of sarcasm about in Kenya is the non-existence of IDPs (internally displaced people). As far as I can tell, the government does not recognize any IDPs from the 2007 post-election violence, while the camps where these people who were driven off their land but politically funded thugs live are visible from the road (I literally saw 5 camps just driving to the MCC retreat). I surely hope the census officials made it to the IDP camps….
Anyway, census day (Tuesday) was a national holiday and I wanted to wish you all a happy census day. Even as it is flawed, conducting a census is reason to celebrate. I have been counted. I am now known.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Goat Slaughtering
Goat Slaughtering: (some of the contents of this blog may not be suitable for small children. Parents are advised to read it before sharing with children.)
On Monday a friend (Joseph) from the program invited me over to his house and mentioned that his father was planning on slaughtering a goat. I looked forward to having something to do while the power was out all day and wanted to reciprocate his willingness to come visit me.
After a short walk through featureless brush, we arrived on his family’s compound. Joseph’s house was next to his father’s, within the same thorny fence. His house was made of mud and wood with a tin roof. It was a bedroom only, maybe 4 meters long by 2.5 meters wide. It was everything that you’d imagine a “mud-hut” to be from its looks but was remarkably a home. It felt like a place to live, a home like any other. I was again surprised to see him turn on a radio as I hadn’t noticed his small solar panel powering a radio and feeding a battery. Joseph is able to run a tv for 2 days on his battery fed by a solar panel he bought for ~$50. Here our program was crippled because of no power but Joseph could go about his normal routine.
After visiting with some of his 14 brothers and sisters (from two moms), it was time to slaughter a goat. I had seen goats killed before but had never really been part of it and I was pretty apprehensive. I realized how removed from death we are in the States and how it is abhorrent to me. I’ll spare you the details but to see a person take an animal’s life was distressing, even as I knew that the same had happened to many animals to feed me in the past. After my initial hesitance to participate, I decided I had to at least seem interested to not offend the family that was inviting me to celebrate with them. I helped skin the goat which I did with moderate success. Then came the removal of each and every part, all used for one purpose or another. Every part was thrown into a pot, heated over a small wood fire they built under an acacia. Joseph was very proud that nothing got wasted. Even the vertebrae, once cleaned of meat, were stuck onto the end of a stick to make a soup stir-er….this just amazed me.
Throughout the process I was confronted with various stretching decisions. Should I drink blood (thankfully Joseph refused for me), eat raw kidneys (I said I’d probably throw them up even if I liked them), eat cooked heart and liver (I did), and Maasai “soup” (water, boiled fat and the essence of various tree branches)? On a deeper level, I was challenged to rethink whether the things I have been taught as “right” or “wrong” are cultural, moral, or traditional. Why don’t we eat raw kidneys? I’m not sure really. I’m sure a doctor could tell you why, but at the same time I see these Maasai who have a life expectancy in the 60s without a hospital in sight. Part of the conclusion I came to was that our culture enforces strict sanitary regulations to overcome the anonymity of the food supply. When I buy a steak from Wegman’s the only assurance I have that it isn’t from rabies-infested road-kill is that the FDA has checked it and zapped the bad things out of it. When you literally know not only the goat you eat but its parents, you don’t need as many controls because you know exactly where it came from, exactly its health, and exactly what you are eating.
At the end, Joseph walked me home and gave me a beautiful hunk of meat which I later cooked “oloshumpai” (white-man) style with a chili-sauce over rice. I felt like I was able to honor Joseph and deepen our friendship through the day’s events. While I often was uncomfortable or down-right queasy with what I was seeing, these are the things that help me grow. I was blessed to have Joseph, who understands me relatively well, to help me navigate the various cultural expectations and norms. Having somebody to talk through what I was feeling helped me cope with what I was seeing. In the end, I praise God for knowing a little more about life, being a little less sure about what I know, and a being little richer for it.
On Monday a friend (Joseph) from the program invited me over to his house and mentioned that his father was planning on slaughtering a goat. I looked forward to having something to do while the power was out all day and wanted to reciprocate his willingness to come visit me.
After a short walk through featureless brush, we arrived on his family’s compound. Joseph’s house was next to his father’s, within the same thorny fence. His house was made of mud and wood with a tin roof. It was a bedroom only, maybe 4 meters long by 2.5 meters wide. It was everything that you’d imagine a “mud-hut” to be from its looks but was remarkably a home. It felt like a place to live, a home like any other. I was again surprised to see him turn on a radio as I hadn’t noticed his small solar panel powering a radio and feeding a battery. Joseph is able to run a tv for 2 days on his battery fed by a solar panel he bought for ~$50. Here our program was crippled because of no power but Joseph could go about his normal routine.
After visiting with some of his 14 brothers and sisters (from two moms), it was time to slaughter a goat. I had seen goats killed before but had never really been part of it and I was pretty apprehensive. I realized how removed from death we are in the States and how it is abhorrent to me. I’ll spare you the details but to see a person take an animal’s life was distressing, even as I knew that the same had happened to many animals to feed me in the past. After my initial hesitance to participate, I decided I had to at least seem interested to not offend the family that was inviting me to celebrate with them. I helped skin the goat which I did with moderate success. Then came the removal of each and every part, all used for one purpose or another. Every part was thrown into a pot, heated over a small wood fire they built under an acacia. Joseph was very proud that nothing got wasted. Even the vertebrae, once cleaned of meat, were stuck onto the end of a stick to make a soup stir-er….this just amazed me.
Throughout the process I was confronted with various stretching decisions. Should I drink blood (thankfully Joseph refused for me), eat raw kidneys (I said I’d probably throw them up even if I liked them), eat cooked heart and liver (I did), and Maasai “soup” (water, boiled fat and the essence of various tree branches)? On a deeper level, I was challenged to rethink whether the things I have been taught as “right” or “wrong” are cultural, moral, or traditional. Why don’t we eat raw kidneys? I’m not sure really. I’m sure a doctor could tell you why, but at the same time I see these Maasai who have a life expectancy in the 60s without a hospital in sight. Part of the conclusion I came to was that our culture enforces strict sanitary regulations to overcome the anonymity of the food supply. When I buy a steak from Wegman’s the only assurance I have that it isn’t from rabies-infested road-kill is that the FDA has checked it and zapped the bad things out of it. When you literally know not only the goat you eat but its parents, you don’t need as many controls because you know exactly where it came from, exactly its health, and exactly what you are eating.
At the end, Joseph walked me home and gave me a beautiful hunk of meat which I later cooked “oloshumpai” (white-man) style with a chili-sauce over rice. I felt like I was able to honor Joseph and deepen our friendship through the day’s events. While I often was uncomfortable or down-right queasy with what I was seeing, these are the things that help me grow. I was blessed to have Joseph, who understands me relatively well, to help me navigate the various cultural expectations and norms. Having somebody to talk through what I was feeling helped me cope with what I was seeing. In the end, I praise God for knowing a little more about life, being a little less sure about what I know, and a being little richer for it.
Life Without
This past week has been a week without. As has been the case for a few weeks, we have been without a fridge, which also means we are without meat. Kenya is currently going through a electricity rationing regimen because they are producing about 50% of capacity due to no water in the hydro-dams. Three days a week (MWF for Najile) we have no power from 8am-6pm. The water was out this week, meaning I was going off our talk in our roof and carrying water in jerry cans from the MFSP farm. In addition to that, Steph’s trip home meant that for me it was life without Steph.
Despite missing many things, it was a blessed week. God showed me His faithfulness in providing during my “without.” On Sunday, I was really despairing that I would be both angry at people (for various things) and frustrated at church (it went for about 5 hours). However, God was truly faithful, changing my heart, teaching me new lessons and challenging me to grow.
Also, in the midst of going without, it is easy to see the value of what there is. Having electricity or water is like having a party, cause for a celebration. I notice how much I value friends who came by almost every night to just hang out and make sure I wasn’t lonely. Finally, seeing God provide for all my needs each day, from food, to water, to being able to get done, is a blessing that I’ve longed for at home, in a land “with”, and now can experience fully.
Life without can be stressful, can be unproductive, and very lonely. However, we have a God who provides. How can we be without when God is with us?
Despite missing many things, it was a blessed week. God showed me His faithfulness in providing during my “without.” On Sunday, I was really despairing that I would be both angry at people (for various things) and frustrated at church (it went for about 5 hours). However, God was truly faithful, changing my heart, teaching me new lessons and challenging me to grow.
Also, in the midst of going without, it is easy to see the value of what there is. Having electricity or water is like having a party, cause for a celebration. I notice how much I value friends who came by almost every night to just hang out and make sure I wasn’t lonely. Finally, seeing God provide for all my needs each day, from food, to water, to being able to get done, is a blessing that I’ve longed for at home, in a land “with”, and now can experience fully.
Life without can be stressful, can be unproductive, and very lonely. However, we have a God who provides. How can we be without when God is with us?
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Farmers Field Day
Bead makers at the Farmers Fied Day
Bob and Judy (MCC East Africa Directors) and Martha and Ron (MCC Kenya Reps)
Our lovely house
Accacia Pods and other usundry items
Pictures I Like
Picture 1:Guess What! A Cow
Picture 2: Esther, Mary and Steph
Picture 3: Our 2nd Anniversary
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Keeping Cool
Fridge Issues:
So our fridge broke again. To get it fixed we needed to do the following: invite people over to eat all our leftovers before they went bad, hire a truck, make a 2.5 hour trip each way into Nairobi with the fridge, pay a visit to the police station, negotiate a fair (?) price with the truck driver, and then make a second trip to Nairobi, pick up the fridge and drive it home.
The first problem we encountered was deciding who would drive into Nairobi with the fridge. Neither of us like traveling to Nairobi, it is a dusty, long, and usually frustrating trip. We both had things we wanted to do at home, so there was no easy way to decide who would go. Steph drew the short straw.
The trip was uneventful and easy, we dropped the fridge off at the repair place with no complications. I was on my way back to Ngong for some light shopping and an early return to Najile when the cops intervened. They flagged over the truck to the side of the road, asking for registration and the drivers’ license. It was a mistake to hand the license over to the cops. They started quizzing the driver on any possible problem with the truck, and found the broken hand-brake as an excuse to direct us to the station since we were on the road with an “unsafe vehicle.” With the drivers’ license in hand, the cop walked away, beckoning us to follow.
Two hours later, we were still at the station. The police were asking for Ksh 5,000 cash “bail” and a court date. Meanwhile, I called the MCC office, and Wambui our super-secretary told me to call a taxi, since the cops just wanted money from the “muzungu.” The moment I called the taxi, the “bail” price dropped. I told the driver to not pay any bribe and that I’d meet him in Ngong. The police held out for Ksh 1,500 and eventually the driver gave in because he needed his license. A week later, we’ve had no more run-ins with the police, but the fridge still isn’t fixed.
So our fridge broke again. To get it fixed we needed to do the following: invite people over to eat all our leftovers before they went bad, hire a truck, make a 2.5 hour trip each way into Nairobi with the fridge, pay a visit to the police station, negotiate a fair (?) price with the truck driver, and then make a second trip to Nairobi, pick up the fridge and drive it home.
The first problem we encountered was deciding who would drive into Nairobi with the fridge. Neither of us like traveling to Nairobi, it is a dusty, long, and usually frustrating trip. We both had things we wanted to do at home, so there was no easy way to decide who would go. Steph drew the short straw.
The trip was uneventful and easy, we dropped the fridge off at the repair place with no complications. I was on my way back to Ngong for some light shopping and an early return to Najile when the cops intervened. They flagged over the truck to the side of the road, asking for registration and the drivers’ license. It was a mistake to hand the license over to the cops. They started quizzing the driver on any possible problem with the truck, and found the broken hand-brake as an excuse to direct us to the station since we were on the road with an “unsafe vehicle.” With the drivers’ license in hand, the cop walked away, beckoning us to follow.
Two hours later, we were still at the station. The police were asking for Ksh 5,000 cash “bail” and a court date. Meanwhile, I called the MCC office, and Wambui our super-secretary told me to call a taxi, since the cops just wanted money from the “muzungu.” The moment I called the taxi, the “bail” price dropped. I told the driver to not pay any bribe and that I’d meet him in Ngong. The police held out for Ksh 1,500 and eventually the driver gave in because he needed his license. A week later, we’ve had no more run-ins with the police, but the fridge still isn’t fixed.
Matatu Ride
Matatu Ride:
We were planning on meeting the folks from GAR (Generation at Risk, a MCC-sponsored HIV/AIDS program) in Ngong around 4. After leaving the MCC Guest House at 2, we made it to Ngong (suburb of Nairobi) just around 4. We figured we had some time since GAR was late all day, so we did some quick grocery shopping at the open-air market. We texted two people to see when they might arrive in Ngong, but got no response. While sitting at the Ngong branch of Barclay’s bank, we saw a friend from Najile who was taking a matatu back home. We asked if there was space for us, just in case our other ride didn’t work out. She said there was and we went to the matatu stop (which included such luxurious amenities as a hillside to sit and wait on). By 6:15, we still hadn’t heard back from GAR and our matatu was ready, so we piled in.
This matatu, was a pickup truck, but did have an army-green canvas over a metal frame over the bed. The bed was about 1.5 meters wide, by 3 meters long. Along the two sides and the back of the cab were small wooden benches. Down the middle of the bed was a whole assortment of boxes and packages, taking up a solid half-meter of the width and piled a couple feet high. We fit 9 in the back, three along each side and three along the cab back. The biggest problem with the ride would be the dust. Since it hasn’t rained in awhile, huge clouds of dust follow every vehicle that travels to Najile, so sitting in the back of a pickup was asking for dust-trouble. Some people completely covered their face with a shuka, others wrapped cloth arab-style over their mouth, and others just hunched over and tried to breathe into their shirt.
Fortunately, the canvas prevented most of the dust from coming into the truck. The ride went by smoothly, many stories were told, everybody was happy to learn we knew Maasai, and by the end, we were all singing hymns together. Despite driving much faster than a normal vehicle, the trip took longer due to the frequent stops, especially as we approached Najile. When we got home, it was dark, our backs were sore, we were tired, and had a nice dust covering. However, we were in Kenya, a beautiful land that is to be our home for 3 years. As we watched the sun go down as we entered the Rift Valley, it didn’t all seem so bad.
We were planning on meeting the folks from GAR (Generation at Risk, a MCC-sponsored HIV/AIDS program) in Ngong around 4. After leaving the MCC Guest House at 2, we made it to Ngong (suburb of Nairobi) just around 4. We figured we had some time since GAR was late all day, so we did some quick grocery shopping at the open-air market. We texted two people to see when they might arrive in Ngong, but got no response. While sitting at the Ngong branch of Barclay’s bank, we saw a friend from Najile who was taking a matatu back home. We asked if there was space for us, just in case our other ride didn’t work out. She said there was and we went to the matatu stop (which included such luxurious amenities as a hillside to sit and wait on). By 6:15, we still hadn’t heard back from GAR and our matatu was ready, so we piled in.
This matatu, was a pickup truck, but did have an army-green canvas over a metal frame over the bed. The bed was about 1.5 meters wide, by 3 meters long. Along the two sides and the back of the cab were small wooden benches. Down the middle of the bed was a whole assortment of boxes and packages, taking up a solid half-meter of the width and piled a couple feet high. We fit 9 in the back, three along each side and three along the cab back. The biggest problem with the ride would be the dust. Since it hasn’t rained in awhile, huge clouds of dust follow every vehicle that travels to Najile, so sitting in the back of a pickup was asking for dust-trouble. Some people completely covered their face with a shuka, others wrapped cloth arab-style over their mouth, and others just hunched over and tried to breathe into their shirt.
Fortunately, the canvas prevented most of the dust from coming into the truck. The ride went by smoothly, many stories were told, everybody was happy to learn we knew Maasai, and by the end, we were all singing hymns together. Despite driving much faster than a normal vehicle, the trip took longer due to the frequent stops, especially as we approached Najile. When we got home, it was dark, our backs were sore, we were tired, and had a nice dust covering. However, we were in Kenya, a beautiful land that is to be our home for 3 years. As we watched the sun go down as we entered the Rift Valley, it didn’t all seem so bad.Testing
This past week was exam week. Many of the schools in Kenya were closing for the 1-month break and conducting the same kind of finals that children seemingly dread worldwide. At the same time, Steph and I were tested in all the lessons we have been learning from God the past two months. We were tested again and again in patience, in keeping our eyes on God, on loving people even when we wanted to either hide in our house or snap at everybody. Through it all, God has been faithful. This week we also decided to re-commit ourselves to daily prayer together and as we prayed for strength each day, we were blessed with all that we needed to make it through the day.
After a wonderfully relaxed 2nd anniversary on Monday, we realized our fridge had been fried for the second time since moving to Najile. We began the hurried process of planning to get the fridge to Nairobi and the food that was left eaten. Tuesday took me to Ngong to meet with one of our partners. A two hour drive ended with me finding out the meeting was cancelled because another meeting had been scheduled in its place. On Wednesday, Steph was feeling sick most of the morning, which made hosting a training on surveys catered with all that was left in the defunct fridge difficult. After the training, we found a dead mouse in one room-and the mouse had been dead for awhile. Thursday and Friday were without power most of the day and of course the water has been off most days in July (fortunately our reserve tank has held us through). In all these things God has been faithful.
On Tuesday, I had the grace and patience to not only get shopping done while the other meeting went on, but also to travel with our partners all over Kajiado district to visit their project sites with a visitor. I found out the visitor and I had a lot in common and we were happy to have connected. On Wednesday, Steph felt better in the afternoon and was able to clean up the mouse remains without any major problem. On Thursday, Steph sat in on a meeting of adult literacy teachers and found great joy in helping teachers, one of her great passions. At the same time, we learned about an MCC choir visiting in early Nov. Steph will be able to work with the choirs here to prepare them, which again got Steph excited to be teaching music. While plans changed again and again, all week we remembered what God has been teaching us about keeping our eyes on him. We are so blessed to be here and a dead mouse should not affect our joy here.
So did we pass our test? I’m sure there’s much more for us to learn, but I praise God for showing us that He can grow us and bring us to a place where we can truly reflect Him to others. We pray that these lessons will stay with us for years to come.
After a wonderfully relaxed 2nd anniversary on Monday, we realized our fridge had been fried for the second time since moving to Najile. We began the hurried process of planning to get the fridge to Nairobi and the food that was left eaten. Tuesday took me to Ngong to meet with one of our partners. A two hour drive ended with me finding out the meeting was cancelled because another meeting had been scheduled in its place. On Wednesday, Steph was feeling sick most of the morning, which made hosting a training on surveys catered with all that was left in the defunct fridge difficult. After the training, we found a dead mouse in one room-and the mouse had been dead for awhile. Thursday and Friday were without power most of the day and of course the water has been off most days in July (fortunately our reserve tank has held us through). In all these things God has been faithful.
On Tuesday, I had the grace and patience to not only get shopping done while the other meeting went on, but also to travel with our partners all over Kajiado district to visit their project sites with a visitor. I found out the visitor and I had a lot in common and we were happy to have connected. On Wednesday, Steph felt better in the afternoon and was able to clean up the mouse remains without any major problem. On Thursday, Steph sat in on a meeting of adult literacy teachers and found great joy in helping teachers, one of her great passions. At the same time, we learned about an MCC choir visiting in early Nov. Steph will be able to work with the choirs here to prepare them, which again got Steph excited to be teaching music. While plans changed again and again, all week we remembered what God has been teaching us about keeping our eyes on him. We are so blessed to be here and a dead mouse should not affect our joy here.
So did we pass our test? I’m sure there’s much more for us to learn, but I praise God for showing us that He can grow us and bring us to a place where we can truly reflect Him to others. We pray that these lessons will stay with us for years to come.
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