As most of you know, last Tuesday, one of our players at Petra Boys Academy (our senior team) past away quite unexpectedly as he incurred a brain aneurysm. Gimo or Gaga as he was known in the community, just turned twenty-four this month and was the first born in his family. Yesterday I had the privilege to attend his funeral ceremony and in trying to sum up what happened there are three phrases that come to mind: 1. "Aslan is on the move," 2. I'm still in Kenya, and 3. I don't know that one is supposed to have fun at a funeral but I definitely had a blast!
The events happened chronologically but before I go into detail, I have to start from the beginning. We were supposed to arrive at the funeral home at 8:00am, but let's get one thing straight, this is Kenya or TIA. That means in reality that people were still arriving after 9am. Once we were satisfied with the people around, they brought out the casket and allowed us to see Gimo one last time. After that we loaded up into 4 buses and one matatu. I was one of the lucky and not so lucky ones to be in the church bus. Unlucky in the fact that our bus driver went missing for an hour and a half! Seriously, he just upped and decided that he wasn't going to drive us. So once we figured that out and got the church to send another driver who had to get a taxi and then come through the traffic jams, we were finally off an hour and a half behind the leaders. I was lucky in the fact that my bus wasn't one of the ones that ended up having the youth boys smoking pot. One of the girls from ICC ended up having to leave that bus because it was so strong, even the driver thought there was a fire in his car.
Once we got to our destination, the first thing that took place was a photo shoot of all the families, organizations, and football teams that Gimo was a part of and were represented that day. After that there were representatives who spoke about Gimo including one of our coaches, Nicholas Masharia. Here's when I get to point number 1. After the representatives spoke, the pastor gave a speech and during this speech 14 youths came to accept Christ as their Savior! It was awesome to see how something that seemed so life taking to many ended up becoming life giving for 14 individuals. During their prayer I was just reminded that even though it's hard to sometimes see God or know why He does the things that He does, He is still at work and knows whats best.
Ok Number 2. So after the alter call and speeches, Petra Boys was then asked to carry the casket from the ceremony to the burial. It was only about 100 meters distance, but the trail wasn't well marked and it was in the middle of a tea field. So as I'm helping to carry the casket and keep my footing, I feel these little fingers going down into my pockets. Thankfully they didn't have enough time to grab anything and I was able to smack their hands away, but I was reminded yet again of my skin color. I was the only mazungu (whiter person) in attendance and I had never felt like I was being so judged in all my entire life. It was similar to the time that I went to Highland Park's mall and saw people judging me for wearing soccer shirts and a white t-shirt, but this was on a much larger scale. Like the dad rarely took his eyes off me and any time I looked away, there was another male staring at me. I'm so thankful that I had Kenyan friends who were there with me, sat with me, could translate a little bit for me what was happening, but I felt honored to be at this ceremony.
After we put the casket on top of the grave, the tradition is that everyone plays a role in the actual burial process. So we were letting the casket down when after 6 inches, realized that the grave wasn't long enough. So we pulled the casket back out and two guys jumped into the 7 foot grave and started frantically digging to make it fit. Once that was done then we let the casket down and the parents threw the first soil ontop and then the rest of the crowd followed until it was finished.
Then the family gave us dinner, which by this time it was 5pm and we were supposed to have left by 230pm. We were served huge servings of rice, githeri, and tea. I knew that I needed to be careful because when there's a big function like this, food usually doesn't get prepared like it should, so I took the risk and had my dinner. It was quite good, but I woke up the next morning with my stomach doing flips.
Number 3. So on the way to the ceremony, not too many people talked. There was a time for about twenty minutes when they broke into Swahili worship, and that truly was one of the greatest experiences I've had here as we were driving through the country side. It definitely made the three hour trek much easier. But back to on the way home, I began talking with this guy named Masaba, who I continually called Mufasa. We were talking and then Gaga urged me to sing Masaba a swahili song. The next thing I know Masaba got the whole bus to be quite and listen to the mazungu sing. I completely butchered the song, but I will never forget how that whole bus erupted with laughter once I started singing. It was awesome. Once they were able to control themselves, they then taught me the song and then the whole bus sang it by my lead. From that point on, everyone was either singing, telling me jokes, dancing, or laughing. It felt like I was coming home from summer camp and was singing all the new fun songs that I had learned. The other thing that I will never forget is how much they laughed when I was dancing in the middle of the aisle when we hit this hug bump and I hit my head on the top of the bus and almost face planted on the floor. Oh and I can't forget also when the bus pulled on the side of the road and all these ladies jumped off and next thing I know, there's 8 little humps just sitting outside in the field doing there business. So funny.
So hows that for a Kenyan Adventure. My first real traditional funeral ceremony and it is one that I won't easily forget. Well I hope you enjoyed my stories and experiences. I hope you have a great night and I'll be sure to let you know when my next adventure is. Cheers.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Jimmy and Facing My "Whiteness"
Well this week has been a huge week for AIS-Kenya and myself as we have dealt with a huge loss to the Petra Boys senior team. Jimmy who was one of the founding members of Petra Boys back in 2002 when suffered from a brain aneurysm earlier this week. Jimmy definitely lead a life that glorified the Lord, and was a huge example to the younger Petra Boys who have come through the team.
With Jimmy's death, I have continually been reminded of my skin and the expectations that come with it. For instance, Jimmy was a good friend to me and yet because of my skin color, it wouldn't be good for me to go visit the family or even participate in local football match to raise funds for his funeral. The expectations would be to great on me just because of my "whiteness." I've come to grip with me being a minority as well as one that is expected to help out financially in every situation, but it's been hard to not act and just listen to the advice of my friends and co-workers who insist on me not meeting the family or anything until its all said and done at the funeral.
Being in this situation of being a minority is definitely something I will never forget because it has forced me to see things in completely different light than what I would have received if I had stayed in the states. I am now more aware of my surroundings, like the neighborhood, people sitting next to me on the public transportation, how close the person is walking next to me, asking myself "why is this person talking to me and what do they want?" Honestly, it can be overwhelming at times, but it makes me think of all the minorities in the states in how they felt / feel now. It's such an interesting perspective to always be aware of your skin color and what it has the potential to provoke, but it's also a valuable lesson in learning how being white in the states is something that doesn't carry any of the weight or lessons as being African American, Latino, Mexican, etc.
I'm sure coming back to the states will be something like a shock when I'm no longer a minority when seeing two white people in one day is an achievement and something that all my kenyan friends conclude automatically that they are my cousins.
Please keep praying for me as I continue to deal with this reality because it implies a lot, especially being in a country that has a "take" mentality. So whether I'm walking through a crowd or dealing with my house help, because of my whiteness it's assumed that I have money and will help any and everyone, that I'm great target for pick pocketers, and that the corrupt public transportation system (matatus) can take advantage of me. I hate it, but that's what it is. I only pray that through this, I come out with a better understanding of people of different races, can adapt easily to what people deal with, and think very carefully before I talk.
With Jimmy's death, I have continually been reminded of my skin and the expectations that come with it. For instance, Jimmy was a good friend to me and yet because of my skin color, it wouldn't be good for me to go visit the family or even participate in local football match to raise funds for his funeral. The expectations would be to great on me just because of my "whiteness." I've come to grip with me being a minority as well as one that is expected to help out financially in every situation, but it's been hard to not act and just listen to the advice of my friends and co-workers who insist on me not meeting the family or anything until its all said and done at the funeral.
Being in this situation of being a minority is definitely something I will never forget because it has forced me to see things in completely different light than what I would have received if I had stayed in the states. I am now more aware of my surroundings, like the neighborhood, people sitting next to me on the public transportation, how close the person is walking next to me, asking myself "why is this person talking to me and what do they want?" Honestly, it can be overwhelming at times, but it makes me think of all the minorities in the states in how they felt / feel now. It's such an interesting perspective to always be aware of your skin color and what it has the potential to provoke, but it's also a valuable lesson in learning how being white in the states is something that doesn't carry any of the weight or lessons as being African American, Latino, Mexican, etc.
I'm sure coming back to the states will be something like a shock when I'm no longer a minority when seeing two white people in one day is an achievement and something that all my kenyan friends conclude automatically that they are my cousins.
Please keep praying for me as I continue to deal with this reality because it implies a lot, especially being in a country that has a "take" mentality. So whether I'm walking through a crowd or dealing with my house help, because of my whiteness it's assumed that I have money and will help any and everyone, that I'm great target for pick pocketers, and that the corrupt public transportation system (matatus) can take advantage of me. I hate it, but that's what it is. I only pray that through this, I come out with a better understanding of people of different races, can adapt easily to what people deal with, and think very carefully before I talk.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
A Day Nairobi Will Not Forget
Well yesterday I went for a nice little run that consisted of paying bills, getting some veggies and fruits from the market, and then getting some groceries along the way. When I got home, my roommate was glued to the TV as scenes from a pipeline explosion that had happened that morning down the road from where we work were being shown. The feeling that I began to feel were similar to that of what I felt when I was in the 8th grade when I saw the scenes from 9-11. My stomach and heart ached for those who were being rushed to the hospital with their flesh literally peeling off their faces. It was heart-aching to see the pain and loss that this community was feeling. And the thing about all of this is that it could have been avoided, and yet at the same time, it was destined to happen.
For those of you who haven't read the news, the Mukuru slum is located on top of a gas pipeline, with the company's site right next store. There have been reports and pleas from reporters and journalists the last year urging the people in this slum to live elsewhere, but they have refused to move and say they won't unless the government pays for them to move. The thing is this is their livelihood. Their church, school for their children, their friends, all live there, so why would they move, even if there is a threat to their livelihood under their homes. It has been said that there have been several leaks in the pipeline this last year, but none of them ended like this. The explosion is believed to have started by the news of the pipeline's leak and people rushing from far distances in their vehicles to fill jugs and canteens with the gas to sell, however, the explosion was believed to have started it by a cigarette butt.
As of late, I have been having talks with some friends about the mentality of the people who live in the slum and it really is unbelievable. These are the people that you read about in the BBC reports that talk about people living on less than a dollar a day. And let me tell you, that dollar that they have to work for is earned or "hustled" in any and every way possible, even at the risk of their lives. In this particular circumstance, the gas pipeline sprung a leak. I have not heard how the leak came about, but the reality is that people in the slums have their ways that they are able to gain access to the line with a certain pump and sell what they call "paraffin" (kerosene). My house help actually asked for money two weeks ago to buy the pump and start selling it.
Besides the reality that this is a very dangerous business, it is also stealing. But the slum mentality sees it simply as a "means to an end" and a way to make that buck or for them, provide their family or themselves. Yes, this could have been prevented but the government has yet to solve this problem. The only thing I keep hearing from their leaders are: "this was a tragic accident" and "Kenya has so many problems." I only hope and pray that we don't have to wait for another disaster like this to happen before change comes about..
I know that God is in this place and that He is here with us, but we need change and it needs to happen... sooner rather than later. So let's get to work.
For those of you who haven't read the news, the Mukuru slum is located on top of a gas pipeline, with the company's site right next store. There have been reports and pleas from reporters and journalists the last year urging the people in this slum to live elsewhere, but they have refused to move and say they won't unless the government pays for them to move. The thing is this is their livelihood. Their church, school for their children, their friends, all live there, so why would they move, even if there is a threat to their livelihood under their homes. It has been said that there have been several leaks in the pipeline this last year, but none of them ended like this. The explosion is believed to have started by the news of the pipeline's leak and people rushing from far distances in their vehicles to fill jugs and canteens with the gas to sell, however, the explosion was believed to have started it by a cigarette butt.
As of late, I have been having talks with some friends about the mentality of the people who live in the slum and it really is unbelievable. These are the people that you read about in the BBC reports that talk about people living on less than a dollar a day. And let me tell you, that dollar that they have to work for is earned or "hustled" in any and every way possible, even at the risk of their lives. In this particular circumstance, the gas pipeline sprung a leak. I have not heard how the leak came about, but the reality is that people in the slums have their ways that they are able to gain access to the line with a certain pump and sell what they call "paraffin" (kerosene). My house help actually asked for money two weeks ago to buy the pump and start selling it.
Besides the reality that this is a very dangerous business, it is also stealing. But the slum mentality sees it simply as a "means to an end" and a way to make that buck or for them, provide their family or themselves. Yes, this could have been prevented but the government has yet to solve this problem. The only thing I keep hearing from their leaders are: "this was a tragic accident" and "Kenya has so many problems." I only hope and pray that we don't have to wait for another disaster like this to happen before change comes about..
I know that God is in this place and that He is here with us, but we need change and it needs to happen... sooner rather than later. So let's get to work.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
A dedication, squash, a new apartment, and pick pocketers
Well the last two weeks have been an adventure for me as I have experienced several new things and had an amazing privilege of being part of my Kenyan family's baby dedication. This last month Mr. Kuguru's son and wife came to town to adopt a little one year old boy. They have a daughter of their own, but wanted to add another addition to the family. They found Petros at an orphanage in Nairobi, and if they hadn't of picked him up, God only knows what could have happened to him. At these places, these kids barely get enough nutrients and care that they need in order to develop and be healthy. One of the kids who was also at the orphanage died the day after Kenny and his wife picked him up. Unfortunately, Petros' is still not theirs yet as they have to go through a very long and in depth process with the courts so he can legally be theirs.
Kenny's dad is a Bishop in Kenya and last week they had a dedication for Petros at their church. It was my first true Kenyan church service, not to mention the first time that I had to stand in front of a congregation. Thankfully I wasn't asked to say anything, but the traditional Kikuyu baby dedication is that it takes two weeks. The first week the family stands before the church and explains their reason for dedicating their son. Then the second week, the family has representatives who speak on behalf of the parents, pray for Petros, and then officially dedicate him. I was given the privilege to stand up front with the Kuguru family as well as Petros' godparents and their family. I was so blessed to be apart of this family's ceremony and be given the title Uncle Jonathan.
Like I said before, this was my first Kenyan traditional church service. Meaning it was very hot, most of the worship songs were in Swahili, the service was over 3 hours long, the sermon was in English but they had a Swahili translator, and it really had the feel that this was a family reunion. Everyone knows everyone and they all love each other and care for one another, which was amazing to be included in.
In effort to start being active again throughout the week, I have tried to find new hobbies, besides running, because here in Nairobi that requires getting up before 6 so you don't pass out from all the exhaust from the traffic. So last week, Kenny and Mr. Kuguru gave me a shot at their sport, Squash. For those of you who might not know what Squash it is, it's just like racquetball, but with a smaller ball that has no bounce and a smaller court. It is a very intense sport that requires technique and precision. Mr. Kuguru got me a trainer for the week and this guy made me work, let me tell you. I definitely enjoyed the sport and wouldn't mind picking it up, but the costs of becoming a member at gyms and clubs is outrageous here. So unless I get invited by Mr. K, then I'm still in search of something that can help my LGN come January. Investing in a mountain bike is an option but I haven't saved enough yet to get something that will be able to handle the terrain and roads.
Also, this is the last month that I will be staying in Kirichwa Apartments. In effort to get ready for Olivia living over here I needed to get a much nicer flat for us to live in and make her feel comfortable. We had a pretty good budget, and for the location that we needed (somewhere in the middle of jobs), it being in a safe community, as well as having a home feeling to it, we found an excellent place right up the road! I will be moving there at the end of this month and will be having to balance moving my bosses furniture and belongings to another location, work, and all those other factors of life. I am very excited about bringing Olivia "Home" to this place and cannot wait to haver her here with me.
So, on the day that I paid the deposit on the flat I must have been jinxed because I had not one but two guys try to pick pocket me. It had been a while since the last attempt, but thankfully I have had good friends who have helped me know their tricks, where I need to put my valuables, and what I need to watch out for. Since I've been here, I've learned to size people up and be on my guard. The first guy played his role well because I did not see it coming. I was sitting in the middle of a three seater on a bus and this guy was sitting on the end with his partner next to the window. The guy next to the window wanted to get out and the the guy on the end wouldn't step into the aisle to let him pass. So we had to finagle around to let him pass and while we were doing so, the guy on the end put his folder over my bag and unzipped the top of it. I immediately felt it and yanked it out of his grasp. He then jumped off the bus, with nothing to show for their effort. But for me, I averted their attempt only to have a huge drunk guy replace them and squish me into the window.
Naturally, I was annoyed the rest of the day, but I just had this feeling that there was more to come. Well it happened a second time. This time I was trying to get on a bus with about thirty other people who were all trying to squeeze into a small door. I had two big bags that I put infront of me so no one could have access to, but in doing that, my hands weren't in my pockets, where they should be, and a guy who was pretending to get on the bus had his hand down in my pocket and was trying to pull out my iphone. Thankfully Olivia gave me this case that makes it ridiculously hard to pull it out of my pocket so I felt this hand trying to get it out and did one of those Karate chops and caught the guy off guard and knocked his hand out of my pocket. It was then my turn to get on the bus and the lady behind me was all frantic telling me that she saw the guy and that I needed to check my pockets. I told her that he didn't get anything but was thankful for her concern.
The next day when I went into the office and told all my co-workers the stories, they all told me how I should have yelled "thief" which would have then led to the guy being beat up or punched the guy. I have pondered this question a lot as to how would I react to a situation like what I experienced, because to Kenyans its simple, you try to steal myself then you're going to pay. Which something that for me personally, I do not want to do. I've decided that violence is not the answer because when it is, here in Kenya there are basically two outcomes. First, if I yelled thief at the second guy, then the situation becomes mob justice which either kills the guy or more people are pick pocketed because his comrades would then get the guys who would be beating him up. Secondly, if I punched the first guy or chased after him, I then either become a victim for striking out against a Kenyan and will be judged very harshly, or if I chase the guy, he will more than likely lead me to a place where his friends are waiting for me to beat me up and take the rest of my belongings. So either way it's a lose lose. But I would rather lose and be phoneless, or couple shillings less than try to catch the guy and put myself in another bad situation.
So that's my two week short story. Hope you guys were able to laugh and enjoy some of my adventures. I am so thankful that I am here and have this opportunity to work with the players and organization over here. Yes, when I come home, I will probably experience a lot of culture shock, but I wouldn't trade any of what I'm learning and experiencing.
Kenny's dad is a Bishop in Kenya and last week they had a dedication for Petros at their church. It was my first true Kenyan church service, not to mention the first time that I had to stand in front of a congregation. Thankfully I wasn't asked to say anything, but the traditional Kikuyu baby dedication is that it takes two weeks. The first week the family stands before the church and explains their reason for dedicating their son. Then the second week, the family has representatives who speak on behalf of the parents, pray for Petros, and then officially dedicate him. I was given the privilege to stand up front with the Kuguru family as well as Petros' godparents and their family. I was so blessed to be apart of this family's ceremony and be given the title Uncle Jonathan.
Like I said before, this was my first Kenyan traditional church service. Meaning it was very hot, most of the worship songs were in Swahili, the service was over 3 hours long, the sermon was in English but they had a Swahili translator, and it really had the feel that this was a family reunion. Everyone knows everyone and they all love each other and care for one another, which was amazing to be included in.
In effort to start being active again throughout the week, I have tried to find new hobbies, besides running, because here in Nairobi that requires getting up before 6 so you don't pass out from all the exhaust from the traffic. So last week, Kenny and Mr. Kuguru gave me a shot at their sport, Squash. For those of you who might not know what Squash it is, it's just like racquetball, but with a smaller ball that has no bounce and a smaller court. It is a very intense sport that requires technique and precision. Mr. Kuguru got me a trainer for the week and this guy made me work, let me tell you. I definitely enjoyed the sport and wouldn't mind picking it up, but the costs of becoming a member at gyms and clubs is outrageous here. So unless I get invited by Mr. K, then I'm still in search of something that can help my LGN come January. Investing in a mountain bike is an option but I haven't saved enough yet to get something that will be able to handle the terrain and roads.
Also, this is the last month that I will be staying in Kirichwa Apartments. In effort to get ready for Olivia living over here I needed to get a much nicer flat for us to live in and make her feel comfortable. We had a pretty good budget, and for the location that we needed (somewhere in the middle of jobs), it being in a safe community, as well as having a home feeling to it, we found an excellent place right up the road! I will be moving there at the end of this month and will be having to balance moving my bosses furniture and belongings to another location, work, and all those other factors of life. I am very excited about bringing Olivia "Home" to this place and cannot wait to haver her here with me.
So, on the day that I paid the deposit on the flat I must have been jinxed because I had not one but two guys try to pick pocket me. It had been a while since the last attempt, but thankfully I have had good friends who have helped me know their tricks, where I need to put my valuables, and what I need to watch out for. Since I've been here, I've learned to size people up and be on my guard. The first guy played his role well because I did not see it coming. I was sitting in the middle of a three seater on a bus and this guy was sitting on the end with his partner next to the window. The guy next to the window wanted to get out and the the guy on the end wouldn't step into the aisle to let him pass. So we had to finagle around to let him pass and while we were doing so, the guy on the end put his folder over my bag and unzipped the top of it. I immediately felt it and yanked it out of his grasp. He then jumped off the bus, with nothing to show for their effort. But for me, I averted their attempt only to have a huge drunk guy replace them and squish me into the window.
Naturally, I was annoyed the rest of the day, but I just had this feeling that there was more to come. Well it happened a second time. This time I was trying to get on a bus with about thirty other people who were all trying to squeeze into a small door. I had two big bags that I put infront of me so no one could have access to, but in doing that, my hands weren't in my pockets, where they should be, and a guy who was pretending to get on the bus had his hand down in my pocket and was trying to pull out my iphone. Thankfully Olivia gave me this case that makes it ridiculously hard to pull it out of my pocket so I felt this hand trying to get it out and did one of those Karate chops and caught the guy off guard and knocked his hand out of my pocket. It was then my turn to get on the bus and the lady behind me was all frantic telling me that she saw the guy and that I needed to check my pockets. I told her that he didn't get anything but was thankful for her concern.
The next day when I went into the office and told all my co-workers the stories, they all told me how I should have yelled "thief" which would have then led to the guy being beat up or punched the guy. I have pondered this question a lot as to how would I react to a situation like what I experienced, because to Kenyans its simple, you try to steal myself then you're going to pay. Which something that for me personally, I do not want to do. I've decided that violence is not the answer because when it is, here in Kenya there are basically two outcomes. First, if I yelled thief at the second guy, then the situation becomes mob justice which either kills the guy or more people are pick pocketed because his comrades would then get the guys who would be beating him up. Secondly, if I punched the first guy or chased after him, I then either become a victim for striking out against a Kenyan and will be judged very harshly, or if I chase the guy, he will more than likely lead me to a place where his friends are waiting for me to beat me up and take the rest of my belongings. So either way it's a lose lose. But I would rather lose and be phoneless, or couple shillings less than try to catch the guy and put myself in another bad situation.
So that's my two week short story. Hope you guys were able to laugh and enjoy some of my adventures. I am so thankful that I am here and have this opportunity to work with the players and organization over here. Yes, when I come home, I will probably experience a lot of culture shock, but I wouldn't trade any of what I'm learning and experiencing.
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