Our second trip to our soon-to-be hometown of Najile came during this past Easter weekend. The Najile POMC church was hosting an all-day Good Friday event where all the local POMC churches met together. Ron, Martha, Emily and Matt (visitors in Nairobi for a few months), Rachael (a friend of Emily and Matt) and Steph and I piled into the Ratzlaffs land cruiser and bumped our way into town. The road had drastically improved, perhaps due to the recent food for work program and we make it to the church in about 2.5 hours.
Once inside, we are shown to the only chairs (places of honor) and watch the service unfold. The first half was mostly made up of choirs from the different congregations. The main pastor (Stephen) would introduce "the young adult choir from Ewaso" and we'd all look around the sanctuary to see who was coming. Inevitably, there'd be a long pause before we'd hear a song begin outside. Each choir entered from a side door and would sing their way in. The songs were beautiful. The harmonies were rich and full of praise. It was amazing to hear a people seemingly so different from us sing to God in their own unique way. They would dance, shifting their heads forward as their body rocks back and forth. Choir after choir came to praise their God.
After about an hour of singing, all of the visitors were welcomed and our group was asked to come up and share something. We sang a 4-part arrangement of "Soon and Very Soon" and thought we did a pretty good job for coming up with it on the spot. Multiple sermon and prayer times later, the service continued on and on. The most striking time was during one prayer time for those "who have less." The pastor was referring to the local IDPs (internally displaced people) who had even less than the local Maasai. He called upon the congregation to give from what they had, and soon a woman came forward with a bag of flour. The flour was from the FFW project, so surely this was a large portion of her food supply for the week. Others started to come up giving clothes literally off their back, money, or food. How powerful it was to see those with seemingly little give out of a sense of abundance! We need to remember this lesson, that even the poor have much to give and that our riches are truly astronomical in the grand scheme of things.
At the end of the service, Steph and I were called up again. We were introduced as the couple who would be living next door and everybody cheered. We were asked to say something (in Maasai) and Steph said "Ashipai taata amu alotu te Najile" (I am happy today because I have come to Najile) and the crowd roars with smiles and cheers. Woman come forward and place their necklaces around our necks and greet us warmly. The service comes to an end and we head toward the universal receiving line. Each person greets every other person, shaking hands until you come to the end of the line and thereby greet those who come after you. The smiles, the joy, the welcoming were all a wonderful way to be introduced to our church family.
The following day, our Maasai exposure continued as we were invited with the Ratzlaffs to the wedding of the FFW manager, Daniel's, sister. He assured us that the wedding would start at 1030 and we should be there by then. Inevitably, we arrived at 10:30 and were alone with the DJ. About 30 minutes later, the pastor arrives, says he think the service will start at 11:30 and promptly lays in his car for a nap. People slowly trickle in by foot, seemingly aware of when things would get going. Around 1:30 the wedding party arrives and the service begins! The ceremony was in the dining hall of a secondary school, just south of Nairobi in Isinya. In many ways, the wedding was very familiar, vows, rings, sermon, praise songs, first kiss etc...
After two hours, the ceremony was over, and we were informed that we were now three hours behind schedule! As if we weren't aware! Anyway, the party headed to the groom's homestead a few kms away. As the wedding party arrived, the Maasai women surrounded the vehicle and sang a beautiful song of welcoming. The bride and groom were shepherded to the large tent set up with chairs were they would be fed. We also were giving chairs in the tent of honor and were served chapati, rice, meat, and vegetables. Next, the MC came forward with a MIC and started calling out family members to come forward. Beside him was a table with a man with a bag (for money) and a man with a book (for keeping the account). Each guest gave some money and as they gave, the MC shouted out how much the gift was. He'd even count out the bills as they entered the bag, "one thousand, two thousand, three thousand!" It was quite the scene. Ron went forward and gave the gift for the "MCC Family" and later we gave our individual gifts to the couple as well. We left soon after, much to Steph's dismay, as we wanted to get home before dark. We were told there'd be much dancing and celebrating for days to come, and hope that someday we'll be able to stay at the party all night long!
In retrospect, our Maasai weekend was very uplifting. We felt welcomed into the community and were greeted warmly. I think this experience (which marked the approximate halfway point of our time in Nairobi) moved us toward thinking about life in Najile and I think we are feeling ready to transition once again.
Monday, April 20, 2009
The Kistlers and Their PIN
A story of our experiences at the Kenyan Revenue Authority:
So we needed to get our Tax PIN which registers us to pay taxes here. We have a Kenyan administrative assistant who knows her way around who usually takes care of these things. Unfortunately, Kenya recently changed the rules so that she couldn't turn in the application and apply on our behalf. So we went into the Kenya Revenue Authority on the 3rd of April, dropped off the paperwork and the supervisor told us to come back in a week. Due to the Easter break we didn't have time to come in until this past thursday, but figured the extra time wouldn't hurt. When we went in thursday after language lessons, we found the office we dropped our paperwork at, but they pointed vaguely to some counters and said "ask over there if they have your PIN." So Steph and I go to separate lines (to save time) and both of us are told to go to "counter 7". We walk over to counter 7 and see that counters 1-4 say "PIN and VAT registration." So I get in line at counter 4 and Steph takes counter 7. My line moves quickly and when I get to the front the woman at the desk tells me that I need to go back to the office I dropped the paperwork at (office 2), that the supervisor there needed to take care of our issue. Now, I begin to realize that due to switching over to a mostly internet-based system, the office was not particularly well-equipped to deal with paper applications (we couldn't apply online because we are foreign nationals). It has now been about 30 minutes and it was lunch time. I go back to office 02 and I tell them the story, and the response is "come back at 2pm and we'll see if we can find your PIN." Steph and I were getting cranky so we called the administrative assistant (named Wambui) to get some help. Luckily, she was just in the same building working on our drivers licenses and was only a few blocks away. She came back and now we felt a little more capable of dealing with the many counters and supervisors. All this time steph was working her way to "counter 7" and now she and Wambui got to the front. Wambui is laying into the people there, because clearly they were not able or going to help us. She asks for a supervisor and we are told to wait for mr. office 02 (wearing a nice pink shirt I might add), and that he'd be back at 2 from lunch. We stand in the hallway eating some bread scraps we brought along trying to figure out what on earth was going on. After about 15 minutes, the lunch hour ended and a rush of people who had been waiting outside was let back into the office area. Now we are fed up and ready to get things done. We find Mr Pink Shirt and he clearly is ready to move and show his authority. He grabs a stack of papers and heads over to counter 7. We walk behind the counters and he says, "look through these." Here were about 30 PIN applications, shoved into a folder, and I (and soon about 4 other people) was supposed to look through these myself. Our papers weren't there. This wasn't much of a surprise as I could now see a mob of people looking through, taking, marking and generally mixing up all the applications. At the same time, I watched the people working at counters 1-7 and saw the access code for their computer system, noted they had no password, and wondered if I could get myself a PIN if I just sat at one of the terminals. I decide to not break every law at once, I find Mr. Pink Shirt, now giving orders to people from counters 1-4, and tell him, "its not there." As the only white person there, I wondered if people thought I was getting preferential treatment, but didn't really care.
It dawns on me that the application is lost. I wondered if the whole trip was a waste of time and was about to despair. But never fear! Mr. Pink Shirt finds two blank applications and has Steph and I fill them out. Thankfully, we had brought along copies of our passports (thank God!) which we needed to complete our application. We fill everything out with the help of Wambui and Mr. Pink tells us to come back tomorrow, they'll be ready then. He promptly takes our papers, walks out of the building, and is gone. We are all left wondering if we'll ever see our PIN numbers (or Mr. Pink Shirt) again.
Friday comes, and we are back at KRA. We roll in at 2, knowing nothing will happen after language lessons (done at 1) and before lunch ends (2). We go to office number 2 and ....no Mr. Pink Shirt. The undersecretary there hears my story and directs me to a woman walking in, helping an Indian couple. As soon as they're done, a man barges in and tries to get the supervisor to leave with him. I'm desparately trying to tell her my story before the chance is gone. She tells me to follow her. Back to counters 1-7 again. We again go behind the counter to the application folders. This time, one of the computer-jockies is stamping out cards! They are the PIN cards. I look through the cards and see steph's and mine. The supervisor woman asks, "is that what you want?" I nod my head vigorously. She signs the cards and gives me a clipboard to fill out. It asks for some info I don't have. I wonder if I'm about to come so close to success and still come up short. The supervisor woman is being distracted with 5 other things and I fill out as many of the questions as I can. I watch her and she hands me the cards again asking, "this is what you wanted?" I grab the cards before she can look at the clipboard and walk away with a quick thank you. I make a beeline for the exit before she notices my lack of passport numbers. I'm soon outside without anybody chasing me, so I know I'm home free! Thus ends the story of the Kistlers and their PIN numbers!
So we needed to get our Tax PIN which registers us to pay taxes here. We have a Kenyan administrative assistant who knows her way around who usually takes care of these things. Unfortunately, Kenya recently changed the rules so that she couldn't turn in the application and apply on our behalf. So we went into the Kenya Revenue Authority on the 3rd of April, dropped off the paperwork and the supervisor told us to come back in a week. Due to the Easter break we didn't have time to come in until this past thursday, but figured the extra time wouldn't hurt. When we went in thursday after language lessons, we found the office we dropped our paperwork at, but they pointed vaguely to some counters and said "ask over there if they have your PIN." So Steph and I go to separate lines (to save time) and both of us are told to go to "counter 7". We walk over to counter 7 and see that counters 1-4 say "PIN and VAT registration." So I get in line at counter 4 and Steph takes counter 7. My line moves quickly and when I get to the front the woman at the desk tells me that I need to go back to the office I dropped the paperwork at (office 2), that the supervisor there needed to take care of our issue. Now, I begin to realize that due to switching over to a mostly internet-based system, the office was not particularly well-equipped to deal with paper applications (we couldn't apply online because we are foreign nationals). It has now been about 30 minutes and it was lunch time. I go back to office 02 and I tell them the story, and the response is "come back at 2pm and we'll see if we can find your PIN." Steph and I were getting cranky so we called the administrative assistant (named Wambui) to get some help. Luckily, she was just in the same building working on our drivers licenses and was only a few blocks away. She came back and now we felt a little more capable of dealing with the many counters and supervisors. All this time steph was working her way to "counter 7" and now she and Wambui got to the front. Wambui is laying into the people there, because clearly they were not able or going to help us. She asks for a supervisor and we are told to wait for mr. office 02 (wearing a nice pink shirt I might add), and that he'd be back at 2 from lunch. We stand in the hallway eating some bread scraps we brought along trying to figure out what on earth was going on. After about 15 minutes, the lunch hour ended and a rush of people who had been waiting outside was let back into the office area. Now we are fed up and ready to get things done. We find Mr Pink Shirt and he clearly is ready to move and show his authority. He grabs a stack of papers and heads over to counter 7. We walk behind the counters and he says, "look through these." Here were about 30 PIN applications, shoved into a folder, and I (and soon about 4 other people) was supposed to look through these myself. Our papers weren't there. This wasn't much of a surprise as I could now see a mob of people looking through, taking, marking and generally mixing up all the applications. At the same time, I watched the people working at counters 1-7 and saw the access code for their computer system, noted they had no password, and wondered if I could get myself a PIN if I just sat at one of the terminals. I decide to not break every law at once, I find Mr. Pink Shirt, now giving orders to people from counters 1-4, and tell him, "its not there." As the only white person there, I wondered if people thought I was getting preferential treatment, but didn't really care.
It dawns on me that the application is lost. I wondered if the whole trip was a waste of time and was about to despair. But never fear! Mr. Pink Shirt finds two blank applications and has Steph and I fill them out. Thankfully, we had brought along copies of our passports (thank God!) which we needed to complete our application. We fill everything out with the help of Wambui and Mr. Pink tells us to come back tomorrow, they'll be ready then. He promptly takes our papers, walks out of the building, and is gone. We are all left wondering if we'll ever see our PIN numbers (or Mr. Pink Shirt) again.
Friday comes, and we are back at KRA. We roll in at 2, knowing nothing will happen after language lessons (done at 1) and before lunch ends (2). We go to office number 2 and ....no Mr. Pink Shirt. The undersecretary there hears my story and directs me to a woman walking in, helping an Indian couple. As soon as they're done, a man barges in and tries to get the supervisor to leave with him. I'm desparately trying to tell her my story before the chance is gone. She tells me to follow her. Back to counters 1-7 again. We again go behind the counter to the application folders. This time, one of the computer-jockies is stamping out cards! They are the PIN cards. I look through the cards and see steph's and mine. The supervisor woman asks, "is that what you want?" I nod my head vigorously. She signs the cards and gives me a clipboard to fill out. It asks for some info I don't have. I wonder if I'm about to come so close to success and still come up short. The supervisor woman is being distracted with 5 other things and I fill out as many of the questions as I can. I watch her and she hands me the cards again asking, "this is what you wanted?" I grab the cards before she can look at the clipboard and walk away with a quick thank you. I make a beeline for the exit before she notices my lack of passport numbers. I'm soon outside without anybody chasing me, so I know I'm home free! Thus ends the story of the Kistlers and their PIN numbers!
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