Anglican church service in Nairobi…HOLY HECK!
 
In an SIM meeting, an acquaintance of mine mentioned having a husband who is the rector at Holy Trinity Church in Kibera, a slum of Nairobi. Poor woman. After learning of her church background, I directed question after question toward her: husband? family? the church? the congregation? Etc? etc? etc. So, naturally, I asked for her number and arranged to attend with her the following Sunday.

WOW different, but WOW the same:) The Sunday I attended, we celebrated mothering Sunday, not the most traditional of liturgies. We celebrated in both English and Swahili, my attention rapt, during prayers and liturgy, for words I could recognize. Very unusual for Kenyans. The women, especially mothers, were CELEBRATED with intention and vigor! Women led the entire service, preached, offered skits, song and dance in thanksgiving to their mothers after the readings. All of this to recognize the underappreciated (in Kenyan culture).

 

Prior to the service, the rector (the husband of the co-worker) welcomed me into his office for tea and mendazi, Kenya's donut. We sat in his small, austere cell and discussed being Anglican. He was very curious about Church of the Incarnation, so I gave him Bishop Burton’s name at the close of our conversation. I learned he studied at Wheaton and Mennonite Eastern in VA and had travelled far and wide for the Church! As we chatted and laughed deep from our bellies, Kenyans have very big laughs, the choir voices welled up in practice in the adjacent room. I started tearing up (he didn't notice. dark room, whew). The moment, the music, the donuts, this man’s familiar collar were all so Good and so distinctly Kenyan.

The choir was on fire during the service and a rail thin baritone led the congregation when we all sang together. Funny that such a thin person produces something so low. During the offering, someone presented a chicken as a tithe. They made me, the muzungu=white girl, stand up at one point and introduce myself to the congregation. Before the Kenyan faces, I felt so foreign and so familiar.

Afterwards, the mammas swept me out to the courtyard for chai hour. In a flurry of hospitality, I soon had more chai and mendazis in my hands along with a gaggle of ladies pecking at me and my story. While still digesting the mendazi and eagerness of the blue dressed women, I was led to a lunch cooked in honor of those who served. Steamy stew, orange rice, and cabbage slaw shoved into my mouth. Yet, the rector and wife would not let me leave unless I took 3 bananas.

Good people.

Adventure Pride School

I was tired that morning as I meandered into the slum. There were glass paned butcher windows butted up to the key-hole doors in the mud and stick houses. There were chickens and kittens picking through the trash in the narrow lanes. Women with large drums of grain atop their heads and broad cars somehow managed the same tight space between mud storefronts.

I didn’t truly wake ‘til I met the bright eyes of a woman rolling out chapatti, a round flat-bread. Seated in the center of the road, she prepared her bread over open flames without taking note of what her hands were doing. Her head oscillated up and down the lane.

“Habari” I muttered, pushing out the greeting so she wouldn’t hear my poor pronunciation.
“MZURI, SANA!” she beamed. There was no need for her affirmative reply. Her eyes had excitement and peace while her hands continued what they had always done.
Continuing, I felt jarred awake and somehow grounded in Kibera (a Nairobi slum) myself, excited for what my expedition of the day had in store: a visit to Adventure Pride School.
 

Students poured out of the weathered, yet well-constructed church building. I slipped inside. Its high ceilings, in respect to surrounding mud houses, and white washed walls were the first hint of the uplifting intention this school invested in the lives of these students. The ethereal energy amongst the focused students remaining at their desks and the solitary light bulb in the center of the great room, was hint number 2. Good things are happening here!

After being ushered into an adjoining 4x4 mud office where 2 smartly pressed headmasters gave me the facts*, I was allowed to freely interact with each class. Budding off the great room were three mud classrooms. The first mud classroom I entered, baby class, was full of 4 and 5 year old faces gawking at the white girl. I bit my lip to keep from chuckling at the wide eyes and adorably chubby cheeks. I listened to a bit of “wind, sun, sky” parroted in high pitched voices---English class. The students in each mud-room sat at low wooden benches regardless of the class age. They were tightly packed side to side on each bench and long wooden tables butted up against the backs of the preceding row of students. In one of the classes in the great room, this room houses 6 classes total, the students stood to greet me with, “Hello Madam!” I led an interactive question game for a bit with this boisterous group.

On the way out to the final mud-room class, I passed a 20 gallon tin pot bubbling over hot stones--- Lunch! (some of the students’ only daily meal). I asked the final classroom, 14 year-olds, what they wanted to be when they grew up. A surgeon, a teacher, an astronaut, a trustworthy politician!!! In this little mud room, lit by the early morning sun, these teenagers have a deep understanding of where they are in the world, TRUE hope in where they CAN go, and an honest joy in the process.

“And, madam, what do you want to be when you grow up?”, an earnest face asked:)

 

*THE FACTS.

-the school hours are from 8:20am-3:30pm. However, they open their doors at 6am to receive students and close up around 6. Most students spend these 12 hours in the safety of the school walls! This is family.
-6 core subjects are taught: English, Kiswahili, Math, Science, Social Studies, Life Skills/Bible Based study
-the school purifies their own water using the sun, corrugated tin and water bottles-GENIOUS and sustainable:)
-Thursday is the one day of the week the students have P.E. Throughout the year they will put on dramas, and enjoy other creative arts.
-the school hopes to buy new uniforms for its students and is in desperate need for expansion.
-the headmasters were slum children themselves. They both have lived with want, schooled, went to college and now pour all of their lives and resources into these children.

The biggest toddlers I've ever seen

Fun fact: every Kenyan I have asked thinks elephants are ugly.

I have to disagree. I have seen the elephant orphans…

Last Saturday I traveled a mere 10 kilometers out of central Nairobi- past the slums, past the motocross course, past the artisan/merchant outskirts- to Nairobi National Park. A few smallish stables and other wooden buildings dot the bush. Besides these few structures, the landscape cascades from between the trees. The elephant orphanage.

I stood next to the guard rope and strained to see into the bush. A Kenyan in a green jumper emerged wheeling several dozen bottles, followed by a string of 15 self-conscious, yet hungry toddlers. These youngsters hemmed and hawed until a green-suited keeper handed them a bottle. Slowly, the elephants joined a 15-bottle salute, each trunk cradling the bottle above the elephant’s head in an apt position for suckling.

As he or she finished, each elephant took to play time, they are merely toddlers after all. In typical toddler style, some threw tantrums for more milk, burping and ‘open-mouth breathing’ in the keepers’ faces. Most of the elephants’ mouths were between 5-6 feet high, giving the keepers a facefull and instantly endearing me toward their quirkiness!

The head-keeper explained the orphan project, named and told the story of each elephant orphan, while I watched them gafaw. “ok, he is just making up names and stories for these big critters”, crossed my mind. However, as I watched, I began to notice idiosyncrasies of each elephant’s personality. One kept getting stuck in the water hole, it’s legs too short to climb up the lip to dry land. She kept back-sliding on her tummy into the mud! Her elephant buddies stood ‘round watching, until one plopped down right on her head. I mean, just sat on her friends head for a bit, jesting at the others with her trunk, then, rose to eat some leaves. Another tried to assist the waterlogged elephant by using her head to push the rump of the stuck elephant to dry land! The helper finally gave up and ended up playing with the soccer ball!!

One loved rolling in the dirt on his back.
One playfully lassoed her trunk overhead and looked at us as if, “check this out”.
One sat down like a dog on the edge of the waterhole and slid into the water like a waterslide!
The two youngest, 5 months old, were too coy for those type of shenanigans. They walked the perimeter of the rope with their trunk resting on the ankle of the keeper. These little ones were only about knee height from ground to top of the head!! Once close enough, I rested my palm atop her dirt caked block-head. She wiggled her hears (maybe she’s seen dumbo) in response:)  

AHHHHH! They are so adorably human.

Even better than my wistful elephant watching, was hearing about the care and successful reintroduction of these elephants in to the wild. The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust is good people. Part of their operation is funded by an elephant adoption program. This program allows the donor to select a specific elephant to foster for a year and allows the donor privileges of watching the elephant bed any night, emailed updates on progress/happenings, and watching some of its reintroduction to the wild (assuming that happens the year you foster)!!!!!! WHATTTTT? I know I promised to return home without any adopted children, BUT…..early ‘me-gift’ for my birthday? Possibly.

 

David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust Elephant Orphanage: http://www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.org/index.asp

Video on website above. Anti poaching! Brief traumatic images:
<iframe src="//player.vimeo.com/video/76119923" width="500" height="281" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen></iframe>

Yum!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

!

Into the Unknown City

Nearly a full week of orienting under my belt! My head is spinning from the mass quantities of info, excitement for my ministry and how quickly tight relationships form. Some kind of solidarity unites adventuresome, foreign, brothers and sisters in Christ on a self-sustaining compound—who’d a thunk?

I’m wading through Lent in this new environment. As I was leaving Dallas, I reflected on how this experience would affect my Lenten commitments and intention. Now, sitting amongst the Nairobi traffic, Lent has surprised me with an AfricanEllie parallel:

I am in a Matatu, a public minivan outfitted with neon plastic seats, blaring the best of Kenya radio. The excitement for reaching the city center is building while I jostle among a throng of Kenyan bodies. I am travelling to inner Nairobi for the first time. The unknown.

In a broader context, the anticipation to get to the coast is building! Not only have I learned there are 8 newly trained (a few months new) women coaches in an area where women’s sports have never existed, the coastal planting season for maize is nearly upon us!
Now, Lent, a time devoted to travelling deeper into God’s unknown city, is palpable. As I pursue depth in my Lenten discipline, my anticipation for Eastertide magnifies. My understanding of sacrificial suffering holds new weight. My hope in the resurrection becomes more resolute!

A hunger to get out there to share sports and agriculture grips me. I am not ignoring the challenge to come, rather, I’m revitalized by the importance of dying daily to be with these people, playing hard for this village and, and breaking my back in labor.

 

Bring on the grit, sweat, exhaustion that is the unknown.

Narobi State of Mind

Thank goodness travel to Kenya from Dallas takes a couple days! Without that time to settle into the reality of travel, Nairobi would be even more of a dream. My body and mind have pit jetlag against unending enthusiasm and information gathering. So far: enthusiasm-7, jetlag- a very notable 1 (fell asleep, twitched awake, fell asleep, twitched awake and finally held onto my cheeks during a particularly lengthy prayer. Everyone else had their eyes closed, whew). Beyond the sleepy, there is much about Nairobi life at SIM that is dreamy-especially now that I have a better understanding of village life:

>Life of the Compound Tribe- I have catalogued: 7 single women of varying life-stage, 4 families and 3 couples within its walls. Each from distinct culture, country and performing different assignments through SIM in Nairobi! Clashes on the badminton court, picking avocados, dinner+movie or dinner+game nights, and bleaching vegetables are common afternoon recreation for the missionary species.

The dwellings are packed tightly and tall, but have ample kitchen, common and bathroom space with toilet paper. The beds are draped in a gauzey mosquito netting that gives the recumbent a feeling of a queen!

Those guarding, both canine and homo sapien, are goofy and loquacious with residents, yet bite intruders. Upon arrival, a new resident must warmly greet the guarding pair to gain admittance to the tribe, lest either bite. Gaining acceptance is a whole other matter, riding on badminton.  

>INTERNET! Im downloading sermons (COTI speakers, cough….), music, videos, sporty and agricultural resources so I can pull them up when internet is in short or no supply. Ive already had one skype date!

>English Speakers. Although, backgrounds on the compound vary, everyone speaks some form of English. Nairobi does too. Somewhat of a bummer that I must rely on others to know English instead of conversing in their comfortable German, Swahili, Cantonese, etc. However, I’m relishing the relative ease of conversation now! My 2-3 week language learning course begins next Monday (3.24.2014).

>Now we're Cookin. There is a slim chance I will be able to cook in the village, at least until my host family gets used to my presence. For now, I’m daily visiting the markets, buying bizarre, fresh produce and having fun! I made coconut pancakes on my first morning- tropical and delicious!

>running water, washing machine, electricity. I believe there are light-bulbs and a few outlets, but Kenyans have mentioned there is no “real electricity” in the village. Naturally, I am using the heck out of the stove, blender, shower, lights, dvd players, while I can.

>church. Who says you can’t shake your thang on Sunday morning? Americans maybe…not Kenyans! More than a little side-step, full choreographed numbers, with plenty of room for freestyling, is enjoyed by kids, grandparents and everyone in between. I have been promised the village church mommas practice their moves during the week for Sunday! I will be up there week one (assuming it’s culturally appropriate) shakin with the best of em-or at least trying.

I am so eager to get to the village, BUT for now, Nairobi is sweet! I will be here for nearly a month while I prepare language, body, mind, spirit with all of the SIM programming.

Please skype:ermack19 or email:ermack19@gmail.com if you fancy since I have the luxury!

Prayer:

Soccer skills-im practicing daily, so im not all left feet when I arrive

Language learning!!!-im very aware of how far I need to go
Thanksgiving for my fantastic housemates!
Praise for being in KENYA. I love it here-who could have guessed:)

 

T-5

CAN YOU BELIEVE: Its T-5 days till departure day!

To celebrate, here’s a look at T-5 things packed in Big Blue, my trekking backpack:

1.       A bear bell. Given to me at Christmas, this silver bell is intended to alert critters and beasts as you make your way down the trail. I am not anticipating encounters with the African Ursidae, nor am I hoping it will effectively ward off King Baboon Spiders (if only). This bell is much more optimistic! Seemingly exact in replica to the Polar Express bell, this piece of hardware rings just as sweetly! The bear bell is a reminder to believe. Be a child, take leaps of faith, go somewhere no one else goes.

2.       Only 1 pair of pants! In the village women wear long skirts. Danielle, my soon to be American house-mate, promised a trip to the local tailor. She said African fabrics, exciting colors and skirt makers are in good supply. Mwanamke maridadi (stylish laday)!

3.       Iodine tablets. Will I need to purify my water? Will I need to boil pots of water to sterilize? I will write back with the answers!

4.       Tie-dye head band. Lindsay knit me a headband for Christmas and made me vow to wear it every day in Africa: ) The Headband is wool…Africa is warm. But, it’ll definitely make the trip.

5.       Translation Equipment/Bible/DVD. Other SIM missionaries in Kenya have requested stateside family members mail me a myriad of small items ill be transporting to the field! I am pleased to give these personal items safe passage. Somehow this makes me reflect on what I’m bringing with me. Not the material items, the x-factor, what really matters!: my God, experiences, friends and family, excitement, companionship for Danielle, extra hands, my time, fresh eyes

“I am well supplied, having received from Epaphroditus the gifts you sent, a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God. And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus”- Philippians 4:18-19