Rest and Reflection

For our last stop on our six-week African adventure, we took the recommendation of every Kenyan we know and headed to Mombasa. Mombasa is a city on the coast of the Indian Ocean, and it's warm

and tropical here, similar to Hawaii. We stayed at a fun all-inclusive resort called the Voyager and spent four days relaxing, swimming, running on the beach, eating from the huge buffet and enjoying nightly entertainment like live Kenyan music and acrobatic shows. Today we head home, a 34-hour journey that includes five separate flights. I'm glad we're going into it fully rested.

So man places to relax here -- aaaaaah...

We're still processing all we learned and experienced during this trip, but I'll share a few quick reflections while they are on my mind:

* To live in Africa (or probably most developing countries) is to experience the world's ecological threats first-hand. This has been weighing on me since the first day we disembarked in Addis Ababa and again in Nairobi. The air pollution in these cities is horrific. One can barely take a breath because of all smog from the congested, high-polluting cars and trucks combined with the constant burning of trash. Our family has been very healthy on this trip (thank goodness) but our sickest moments have occurred while stuck in city traffic with car windows open. This made me very thankful for California's high standards on air pollution, but also cognizant that millions of people breathe oppressively polluted air every day. And I am not blaming them because I believe Americans are still the #1 polluters in the world thanks to our excessive use of fossil fuels, so I take responsibility as well. Our future does not look good unless we band together and make some significant changes.

* Related to the above, Ethiopia and Kenya have a serious problem with water. Not only is clean, potable water unavailable to so many rural dwellers, but it's even more scarce in the cities. Everyone in the city buys bottled water to drink, and no, there's no recycling of all those plastic bottles here. Every one goes into the trash. Additionally, water to bathe or wash clothing is intermittent due to lack of rain to fill essential reservoirs. Those who can afford it purchase large cisterns to store city water when it's working so they'll have some water to use during the shut-off days, but this is not a workable long-term solution. I did not meet one Ethiopian or Kenyan who uses a clothes washer, for instance, because washing machines use a lot of water and need a certain amount of water pressure. Instead, people boil water and wash clothing by hand in a tub and then hang everything to dry. Same thing for dish-washing. You can imagine how much time this takes, and that's just one example. I've heard it said that water will become the most precious resource on earth as global warming advances, and now I see why that will be the case.

* On a more upbeat note: We could learn a lot about families and parenting from Kenyans and Ethiopians. One thing our family appreciated during our various travels was observing the very high value placed on marriage, children and the extended family. Everywhere you go, you see couples enjoying time together, dads lovingly carrying their children, mothers laughing and playing with their kids, older people being cared for by their children and grandchildren. Etc etc. We even learned some interesting customs of how the dowry is still in effect in Ethiopian and Kenya -- not as an oppressive tool but as a way to ensure the entire family is included in the union of two people. I know that will get some dander up among my U.S. friends, but I don't have space to elaborate so you'll just have to ask me about this later. I'll just tantalize you by saying the dowry negotiations involve lots of goats and cows and lots of kissing-up by the male suitor!

* But wait, feminists among you, please note that I did a running poll of Kenyan working women and they unanimously told me women and men get paid equally here and have equal access to jobs. Their mouths dropped when I told them that's not the case in the U.S.! I found the rate of working women to be very high, perhaps in part because the cost of childcare (i.e. "house help") is quite manageable.

Alright, there are a few droplets from my ocean of thoughts and impressions in Africa.  If you've traveled to a very different culture, I'd love to hear from you sometime about things you noticed and appreciated or struggled to accept. This, to me, is the purpose of traveling: to see and experience new things, of course, but also to try to step into the shoes of another people and culture without preconceptions or biases. It's the most challenging and delightful task we have as citizens of the world, don't you think?

A Thin Space

Few things in my life have stirred me as much as our time on African safari. I know that sounds a bit corny, but there’s something so wondrous and soul-connecting to see African animals in their natural environment: miles of wildebeest (an estimated 3.5 million of them) and zebras migrating north to

greener pastures, cheetahs creating silent coalitions to strategically hunt their prey, hippos lumbering back to the water after a night of grazing, gentle giraffes poking their heads above the trees -- and of course the lions devouring their prey or playing with their cubs. One of the guides told me he has seen guests weep as they watched this incredible scene, and I have to admit I felt the same way, deeply emotional and weirdly thankful.

Some people refer to this as a "thin space,"  a place or moment when heaven and earth seem nearly to touch, and this was one of those this spaces for me.

That said, I will illustrate my point with a few of the dozens – actually hundreds – of photos we took over our three days in the Masai Mara National Park in Kenya, not that anything can do this place justice. You'll just have to see it for yourself.

Our morning picnic on the game drive with Edward, our Masai guide.

The "great migration": wildebeast as far as the eye can see.

I'm in my "happy place"

Water buffaloes are the animal safari guides fear the most because they
have been known to charge jeeps if they feel threatened.

Karibu in Nairobi

“Karibu” means “welcome” in Swahili.  It’s a word we have heard often during our time in Kenya.  Better than that, we have experienced it.  In general, Kenyans are hospitable.  Kenyan Presbyterians excel even further in their hospitality.

Our hosts this week have been our wonderful friends Edward and Serah Karanja, and their two kids Mercy and Gregory.  A friendship that began in Sacramento has been solidified here in Kenya as this family has worked their way into our hearts.  It is no small thing to open your home to seven live-in guests but the Karanjas have done so and made us feel as if we are family.  We’ve shared delicious home-cooked Kenyan meals (love the chipati!), many laughs, and personalized tours around this vibrant city.

I asked if I could take a selfie from the pulpit.
See if you can spot our family.

Our first full day here we worshiped at the Kasarani West Presbyterian Church where Karanja has been pastor for several years.  I (Jeff) preached in all three services, the second of which overflowed to nearly 1,000 people.  Esther and Noel also offered a special music (“Your Glory/Nothing but the Blood”), a song they had sung when Karanja was in Sacramento and so he asked that they sing it here.  It was our first opportunity to experience a Presbyterian worship service in Africa.  Much of the liturgy was familiar, although the music was distinctly African in flavor.  Though they have three services, each service never really ends, as the closing song for one service immediately transitions to the opening song for the next service as people come and go. 

Esther, Isabel and Bereket attended one fellowship
 group, while I and the boys attended another, below.

Much of our week consisted of opportunities to participate in the life and mission of this vibrant congregation along with other neighboring congregations. We attended local parish fellowship gatherings during the week. The groups, divided by neighborhood, are each led by an elder and create an extended family atmosphere for prayer, Bible study and community.  We visited a local public school where Presbyterians have instituted a feeding program for students who are so impoverished that otherwise they might not eat during the week.  Learning (evidenced by test scores) has significantly improved since the program began.  The men of our group even had a chance to attend a Friday evening men’s fellowship gathering of about 150 men who listened to challenging teaching, slaughtered and then feasted on a couple of goats, and then sat down together to watch the AFCON soccer finals between Senegal and Algeria.  In every gathering we experienced generous karibu.

Godebo pours porridge into the cups of schoolchildren,
a program provide by the local Presbyterian church.
The porridge is made of healthy, filling grains like millet,
sorghum and wheat. For some of these children, it is
the only reliable meal they will eat during their day.

One experience we will not soon forget was a visit to the Kibera slum.  Right in the heart of Nairobi, this is the largest slum in Africa and is home to over 1,000,000 people.  The living conditions are unlike anything you would find in the States.  It was not safe for us to venture too far into the neighborhood, but some leaders from the Kibera Presbyterian Church toured us through two schools they run, which provide a vital potential lifeline to young students hoping an education may one day lead them out of this desperate situation. 

Looking out over the homes of the Kibera
slum in Nairobi.

It has been such an encouragement to witness firsthand the vibrant ministry of Christ happening here in Nairobi in and through our Presbyterian brothers and sisters.  Their commitment to serving the needs of the poor is unquestioned.  Their passion in worship and prayer is infectious.  And, of course, their demonstration of genuine karibu has blessed us richly and beyond expectation. 

To Market, To Market

Sara leads me under the canopy of tin roofs into the produce market. It's another world down here!

Our hosts in Nairobi, Karanja and Sara, shop for most of their produce at “the market,” and by that I don’t mean a grocery store. Yesterday I woke up early to experience the true Kenyan shopping experience at the outdoor produce market, the largest of which takes place every day in a section of Nairobi. Looking down at it from the freeway, it looks like one of Nairobi’s notorious slums, with a patchwork of corrugated metal roofs touching end to end across acres of land. Sara parked her car along the road and led me down a narrow dirt path and under that canopy, where the largest farmers market I’ve ever seen was bustling with early morning activity.

To call it a farmer’s market is a bit misleading because Sara explained that most of the vendors are middlemen. They purchase produce from farmers or even produce buyers from as far away as Uganda and Tanzania. Then the vendors sell them at their small stalls. There were stands of small red onions, bright red tomatoes, manoes and papayas, bananas and watermelon. A whole row was reserved for corn (they call it maize), with vendors sitting atop mountains of corn cobs. They will sell them whole, but they most often husk them, de-cobb them into bowls and sell them as bags of kernels. This is how Sara purchased them.

Maize vendors shucking corn.

Sara told me she buys in bulk (think Costco-sized bags) so she can bargain the price lower. And because there are no shopping carts, she brings her house-helper, Dominic, to carry the heavy bags to her car. When she doesn’t have a house-helper, she hires someone at the market to help her.

I enjoyed watching Sara in action, asking questions and talking price in her native Kakuyu language. Kenyan music played in the background, alternating with a street preacher who shouted his sermon into the microphone at a deafening level. (Sara said the preaching often goes on all day long…yikes!) I was the only white face in the crowd, but people treated me kindly and mostly left me alone. (The week before, we had visited the “Masai Market,” a place to buy native souvenirs, and it was not so pleasant, with vendors shouting at us silly things like ‘Almost free!’ and ‘I give you a good price!’ and getting testy with us if we looked but didn’t buy. This was much more relaxed.)

Sara shops for oranges. Fun fact: Kenyans call this fruit
oranges but the skin on their variety is more typically green.

I couldn’t believe Sara could find her way around the maze of stands, but somehow she picked up everything she needed in about an hour and we headed home with a very full car.

Later in the day, we went to the opening day of the new “Lion King” movie, thinking it was fitting to see it here in Kenya right before we leave for safari. We enjoyed some pizza for lunch, and the boys/men spent the evening at a traditional “goat roast” at the church. This is the favorite meat of all our Kenyan friends, and they wanted the guys to experience this custom. Thankfully, they didn’t ask Jeff to do the honor of slaughtering the goat!

A very fun and relaxed day as we finish our time in Nairobi.

 

We enjoyed seeing the new Lion King film
before we left for our safari.

Few Words

I'm at a loss for words tonight, but here are some images from our past few days in Kenya: 

A hike through central Kenya's tea plantations. Americans revere
Kenyan coffee but Kenyans are much prouder of their tea, which they
drink with milk several times a day and at any gathering.

Rolling hills of green.

Any good hike requires a foot soaking in a cold river...

or a full-on dip!

Giraffe Center in Nairobi

Isabel giving "Ed" a kiss.

What We Learned from Mama Sara

Mama Sara

I’ve been neglecting this blog partly because our days in Kenya have been very full, but partly because I can’t quite decide how to formulate my impressions. At the end of each day, my heart and brain have been flooded with new images and experiences, and my body has felt quite weary – not so much because of our pace, which leans toward slower “African time,” but because travel is very rugged here and it takes a very long time to get anywhere on bumpy and windy roads. We’re pretty exhausted by the end of the day.

That said, I think I’d like to tell you about our last day in the western part of Kenya, near Kisumu, partly because it was such a special time but also because it represents how we’ve spent a lot of our time in Africa: meeting people, asking questions, hearing their stories and learning about their lives and lifestyles.

To set the stage, picture a mostly rural community made up of villages. The villages typically consist of a couple of streets with small shops and government buildings, often a bustling street market, several schools, maybe a hospital or clinic, all surrounded by homesteads of a few homes and a patch of farmland. Villages are affiliated with particular tribes or clans that usually have their own local language. And the family trees of these villages are intricate and tightly connected, which is a way of saying everyone knows everyone and is often related in some way (though it’s important to note that one cannot marry anyone from your own village, so intermarriage is not acceptable.) Wherever we’ve gone with our friend and host, Moses Osoro, he has bumped into a brother, mother, auntie, cousin…and, of course, many friends from his childhood. So when Moses told us his mother-in-law, “Mama Sara,” would like to host us for lunch on our final day in this region, we were delighted and honored to meet another family member.

Getting to Mama Sara’s house in our 12-passenger van was no picnic. The dirt roads were narrow and deeply rutted. At one point, we even volunteered to get out and walk, which might have been faster. But the drivers here are persistent, and eventually we pulled up to a compound of small stuccoed homes surrounded by a large grassy lawn. There to greet us was Mama Sara, a minute woman in her 80s with a weathered but lovely face, as well as her son and daughter, her granddaughter, and several neighbors. I’ll pause here to say that we’ve found it very typical for Kenyans to come in large numbers to greet us and express their appreciation for our visit. I sense this is partly Kenyans’ incredible giftedness at hospitality toward all visitors, and partly because it is very, very rare for white people (we’re called “masungos” here) to visit Kenyans. It is considered a great honor to them that we take the time to come, so they invite all their relatives and neighbors, and no expense is spared.

These men were sawing a log into lumber.

After we were served cold drinks and small sweet breads called mandazis (like donuts but not as sweet), we were invited to walk about a mile to the original family compound where the patriarchs of the family (Mama Sara’s in-laws) originally settled. This was a very pleasant walk through the countryside, saying hello to the neighbors and enjoying the countryside. When we got to the homestead, which held about a dozen small homes and structures, we were shown the original house, which is now basically in ruins. There are very strict traditions in this community about how a homestead is set up, and it is considered disrespectful for anyone to move into the patriarch’s home after they die. They just let it decay. The sons build their homes behind the patriarch’s home (never in front) as they become adults, and they live there until they marry and move away to start their own families and farms nearby. Eventually, the original homestead becomes a ghost town as people die or move. Moses finds this tradition a wasteful use of resources, but this is how it has worked for generations.

In front of the original home.

We were shown the family graveyard and the structures used for farming or cooking. Then we walked back to Mama Sara’s.

By the time we got back, the helpers had moved all the living room chairs and couches outside and into a circle in the shade of a giant tree. In the middle of the circle was a table packed with food traditional Kenyan dishes: whole talapia wet-fried with a light sauce, stew of potatoes and vegetables with chunks of beef, stewed chicken, spiced rice, chipati (a fried flatbread similar to a tortilla), cabbage cooked with onions, and ugali, a fairly bland cornmeal paste that is an everyday staple in this region. We prayed and then ate heartily.

[Just a pause here to say that Mama Sara’s house has no running water, no indoor bathroom and, I believe, no electricity. All this cooking was done over open fires in a small cooking shed or outdoors. Her friends and neighbors came to help her cook and then ate discreetly behind the house, where they subsequently fell asleep on the grass. This was a labor of love for their friend!]

After lunch, we asked Moses if he would translate for Mama Sara so we could ask her some questions. We knew a bit about her history but wanted to hear the story straight from her. Mama Sara told us she and her husband were teachers. Early in their marriage, they had purchased 40 acres of land in a very fertile part of Kenya, an excellent investment that is now worth quite a fortune. On their land, they grew corn and raised milk cows. Together they had 11 children, who were all still very young when her husband passed away. Mama Sara then raised all 11 children while managing a 40-acre farm. She did all the work herself at first, then enlisted the children’s help and eventually the grandchildren. They would pick the corn, dry it and then sell it. They would milk the cows and then sell the milk. She worked very, very hard and that was her perspective on parenting: to teach her children to work hard and to be Christians. She managed to put all her children as well as 11 grandchildren through school. (School is not free in Kenya. Even the public schools require uniforms and book fees. Those who can afford it send their kids to private primary school and to a boarding school for high school, since those tend to be better schools.)

When I asked Mama Sara what advice she would give to those of us who are parents, she said, “Be very strict.” Our kids groaned, but one can see how you’d have to keep a tight ship if you’re raising 11 children on your own. Moses told us Mama Sara never turned away any of her grandchildren when they needed a place to live or help with school fees. She has an incredible legacy.

"Work hard!"

At the end of our conversation, Mama Sara wanted us to go around and introduce ourselves again, one by one. As soon as she would listen to an introduction, she would motion for the person to come to her and she would give them a fist bump and tell the person in her best English, “Work hard!”

We sat under Mama Sara’s tree until tea was served and consumed (this is a MUST in every Kenyan social setting, and it’s always black tea with milk and sugar, hearkening to their years as a British colony). All were content and peaceful in this lovely setting.

Just as we rose to leave, Mama Sara asked Moses to tell us that she was very honored that we took the time to visit her. Again, this is very common and sincere in this culture. People are honored to host guests. It’s very humbling, especially when you consider the sacrifice it takes an 84-year-old woman with quite limited means to host our 11-person group.

All the furniture moved on the lawn for our picnic.

Mama Sara was only one of the dozens of people who have demonstrated deep hospitality and generosity to us during this trip. We are hiding these moments deep in our hearts in hopes that we will remember to “welcome the stranger” with the very best we have to offer when we return home. We all believe we’ve been blessed to be a blessing.

Egg-ceptional!

Hi – this entry is from Paul and Cathy Philleo.  We have been traveling with the Chapmans in Kenya this past week, and they encouraged us to post this entry about the One Child One Hen project.  Faith has been involved with this project for over four years, and while we have seen photos and videos, and have heard regular updates from Moses and Emily Osoro, this project has been a bit of a mystery to many of us.  Our primary objective in traveling to Kenya was to visit the project to witness what has been happening here.  We have spent two days at the project:  Sunday after church, when we were mostly by ourselves; and Wednesday, when we participated in the weekly meeting of the sixty community members who are participating in the project. 

Collecting eggs

What we saw is amazing.  There are four chicken coops, each 40-feet by 80-feet, housing about 2500 hens.  It is quite exhilarating to walk through a coop with about 1000 hens fluttering around you – something we all did.  The birds are flourishing, producing 1200 eggs per day on average.  These are easily sold in the local market area surrounding the project, as demand for these eggs is high.  The eggs have developed the reputation as being the best tasting in the region (we sampled some and we concur!).  Sales proceeds are used to help pay project expenses and provide a modest stipend to the project participants.

Sampling the merchandise -- egg sandwiches!

The opportunity to meet with the community participants was very rich.  They uniformly expressed their gratitude for our support of the project, and encouraged us to remain engaged and especially, to help the project grow.  They greatly appreciate access to the quality eggs the project produces, and the stipend provides a most welcome supplementary income.  But what was really evident is the value of the experience.  The project provides technical training in poultry raising/egg production, and also accounting, marketing, and business management.  More importantly, the project is an example of what can be achieved with perseverance, discipline, and determination.  Having overcome early skepticism, the project’s reputation has soared to where there is a waiting list to join, and news of it has spread to adjacent villages.

Maggie and her accounting intern, Agnes

We also have to tell you about Maggie.  She is the niece to Moses and Emily and an accountant who lives in Nairobi with her husband and son and daughter.  She has been involved in the project since it began and accompanied us for our week here.  She is the most wonderful and delightful person you could ever meet, and we have been blessed that she took a week away from her family to be with us. We are so thankful for all she and Moses have done for us this week.