The Cat Ate My Homework

When I left my home this morning for time with the visiting team, I left my computer open. When I returned two hours later, my inbox was empty. Flannel might be the culprit. She may have inadvertently stepped on the right combination of keys to permanently delete all mail. None of the unanswered messages are in my deleted mail box. I was able to retrieve some by going into my GMail account, but if you had recently sent me a message and have not heard back from me, please resend it...

And yes, I now close my computer before leaving the house.

Saturday night

A nasty flu virus has been making the rounds in our province. This particular virus typically nails people for about 3 days. My body's been successful at fighting it off, till Thursday, when I started sniffing...

By Friday (during the graduation) my body was aching more and more, but I couldn't leave since I was supposed to take photos. By the time the ceremony was officially over and guests were having lunch (at 4 pm), I headed home, got into bed, and slept. Till the Salvation Army Band woke me up around 9 pm, playing their hearts out. But I got to rest, nevertheless. By the time they started playing again this morning at 7, I started thinking evil thoughts. But they left soon enough for the campaign, and after breakfast, I lay down and woke up only at noon! My body obviously needed the rest. I never sleep like that!

I got some reading done this afternoon, and feel a LOT better than I did yesterday this time! No fever. No aching body. I just am still coughing, and I sound like a base. But I feel much, much better. Tomorrow, I'm taking two interns to Kakamega Forest. I have a meeting in neighboring Kapsabet on Monday morning, so it helps that I don't have to drive the road by myself... I wouldn't mind getting away by myself for the day, but it's smarter to have some men in the car with me. And the guys are really excited about getting to go to the forest.

Here are some of my favorite non-graduate photos from yesterday's event.


I was up at dawn on Friday to catch some of the action on the compound. Here, graduates are getting ready for the Big Day by cleaning out their rooms.

In the kitchen, an assembly line was cooking fresh chapatis. Keep in mind, this was around 6 am. Lunch was only served at 4 pm. Since I was up so early, they offered me a fresh chapati, which I shared with all my friends in the kitchen.

The kids love eating clovers! I caught Naomi pulling out clovers from the flower beds while the ceremonies were going on (and on).

This little one is called Navy. He belongs to a neighbor, Mama Sifuna.

Solomon is the son on David Tarus, our director.

Two more neighborhood kids. I don't know the little one on the left's name, but the smiley face on the right is Brenda, another one of Mama Sifuna's kids.

For more photos from the day's events, visit my Flickr page.

Chicken Anatomy 101 ... and The Art of Making Friends

Today, I stripped the guts out of a few chickens. For real. I didn't kill the said birds, nor did I de-feather them. But I walked into the training center kitchen this afternoon, where staff were busy preparing for tomorrow's graduation. Which included the gutting of a half dozen chickens.

We're expecting 500 guests tomorrow for the SACDP graduation, and you don't send people home without feeding them. They will have traveled from far. The family & friends of the graduates (as well as any curious neighbors) will be fed rice and "soup" (sauce with perhaps a bit of meat in it, if you're lucky). The guests of honor (the chief of the village, the speaker for the event, the ELI Board and about 50 other very lucky people) will be fed rice pilaf, chicken, beef, and sodas.

So I found Miriam and friends gutting chickens. "May I join you?" I asked. There's nothing like bonding with Kenyans ladies in a kitchen.

"Have you ever slaughtered a chicken?" they wanted to know.

"Never! Will you teach me?"

Which they did. Miriam showed me how to cut open the backside ever so carefully. "Don't rupture anything! Now carefully cut the hole bigger and bigger so you can get your whole hand into the back end."

"Don't cut your finger!" Oops. Too late. The knife is terribly blunt for a job like this, and my knuckle is stinging. It's but a flesh wound, I console myself.

"Pole," they say. (Sorry.)

"Let's continue," and I do my best not to be a weakling. (Hours later, the cut on my thumb knuckle is bleeding and throbbing. But I'd never complain to my Kenyan neighbors about a triviality like that. It would only prove that we wazungu really are chickens.)

Next, you cut off the neck. "Don't rupture the crop. That will smell badly." Succeeding at the simple procedure of removing the crop (how on earth does one chicken eat so much corn?!) makes me feel like I've just mastered the art of kung-fu.

"Now, put your hand in the opening you had cut in the back. Just use two fingers. Release all the intestines. Be careful not to..." You know the schpiel by now. Don't rupture anything. But how on earth do you pry loose all the guts and not rupture something!

"Make sure you can see your fingers all the way at the neck, so you can pull out the esophagus." Done. The esophagus, heart, spleen, liver, stomach, the large and small intestines, the rectum all come out with a huge plomp! But they're still attached to the final exit.

"Now, you cut that out." No more warnings of rupturing anything!

The final steps are to clean the carcass by getting the lungs out. They sit like two little pink sponges, tucked in tightly in the rib cage. There are also little bubbly thingies stuck to the back bone. "What are those bubbles?"

They laugh at my ignorance. "Those are eggs. These used to be layers. But now they're old."

And dead, I think. But I don't say it, 'cause my sense of humor just doesn't translate. And then I get to fillet open the stomach ("That's the grinder," my friends inform me) and remove the contents and the inner lining.

I feel like an accomplished concert pianist, wanting to make a bow. But I don't. I realize that this is a simple procedure that my friends have performed since they were adolescents. I honestly don't mind that I've had to wait for today to do this and learn from my friends.

"Here's another one. See if you can do this on your own. This is your test." I'm glad to say I passed. With honors, they say. But I think they're just being polite.

Later, after preparing my own chicken for dinner (simple: take the thawed chicken out of the plastic bag, remove the plastic bag of gizzards and keep for my helper, and pop the chicken in the toaster oven), I go for a walk on the compound. I hear laughter from the kitchen. My new friends are sitting down, having a cup of chai. "Join us!" they invite me. Which I do. I try to follow the conversation in Swahili, and ask Miriam every so often what a word means. I'm learning, even though it's taking time.

Walking back to my home, I peek into my neighbor's home. "Rebecca, do you have dinner plans? Not yet? Join me. And bring anyone of your choice."

During dinner with Rebecca and Ruto, they ask about my music. "Where does it come from?" I introduce them to the strange world of an iPod. Conversation becomes more serious, and Ruto asks, "Aren't you lonely here?"

As singles, they, too, can understand some of the loneliness we all face. We end the evening by praying together. They had shared with me some of their burdens, and together, we take them before the throne of our God who knows our hearts, our struggles, our desires.

I didn't get all the tasks done on my list for today, but I thank God that the spontaneous events that did occur today (especially those that I don't get to write about here), ones that were obviously on his agenda for me today.

And I'm thankful that nothing ruptured. In fact, the opposite happened. My heart was connected with those of some of my neighbors through simple acts of community and friendship.

For that, I'm infinitely thankful. It was worth the cut on my thumb. In the process, my neighbors were reminded that when cut, we all bleed just the same.

Peace

Peace is a deep disposition of the heart.

It is humility,
an ability to let go of the need to be right
in our own eyes or the eyes of others,
an ability based on the knowledge
that our rightness or wrongness in any issue
is totally irrelevant to God’s love for us
or our neighbor.
The peace that comes with claiming our self in God
is the foundation of our ability
to carry God’s reconciliating love to others
in the most humble places
and humble, everyday ways.

I read this quote this morning by church historian Roberta Bondi and it stuck in my heart. Even as I dealt with some painful cultural challenges today, I can go to bed with peace in my heart...

Are we relevant?

Last night, I listened to a Podcast I had downloaded while in the US. It was from a pastor from one of the churches we visited during class--the one church that actually got my blood boiling for the arrogant way in which they were doing inner city ministry. (Basically a we-have-arrived mentality. OK, there were actually many things beyond the we-have-arrived mentality that saddened and frustrated me about our visit to their brand new, very expensive campus. But I won't go into that now. It's just not necessary.)

So I decided to download at least one Podcast from their guru pastor, so I could actually hear him teach and decide if my assessment of the said church may have been wrong.

It wasn't.

Other than making a completely inappropriate comment about how he hopes they have "lots of hand sanitizer" at their new inner-city campus (?!), he proceeded to teach a lesson from a Q&A series. The specific lesson was on the emerging church.

What he said about this movement was good and true and solid as far as I my understanding goes. In fact, I learned a good amount about different streams within the movement.

It was the pastor's introduction to the sermon that really, really rubbed me the wrong way.

"Since you guys are all here at [our church], it means you really don't care about the emerging church. Which is good. You shouldn't! So just bare with me while I answer this question and then we might get into something useful..."

What really saddens me about this attitude is that a pastor (or anyone in a Christian leadership position, for that matter) would actually tell his people that they should not care about one of the fastest-growing phenomena in the Christian church. Regardless of whether or not you agree with what's happening in any of the groups within the emerging/emergent church, we should live informed lives if we want to be relevant. If we don't know what the different groups within this movement believe, we will either condemn the good along with the bad, we'll embrace the bad along with the good, or we'll simply not care.

As far as I understand our role as Christians, none of these options are really an option. We should in fact care. It doesn't mean that all of us need to become experts on every topic, but we should at least care to know enough so we can have an informed opinion. Or know enough to say "I don't know enough about this topic to have an informed discussion," and listen to what our friends have to say, then, in our study times, compare it to what the Bible teaches before we set out to simply argue with friends.

If we simply live life in the "I'm 'in,' so I don't have to care about what's going on 'out there' lane," we would become not only irrelevant, but we're missing the mark. Completely.

I've missed the mark many times in my life. I thank God that he's not given up on me, but opening my eyes daily to areas where I do, in fact, need to care more.

The journey is long. There's so very much to learn. God forbid that we'd ever not care to learn more.

Things for which to be thankful

Recently, we've been having power outages almost daily, mostly in the evenings. I'm thankful that we do have power, though, even though it's been somewhat sporadic. Right now, it's on. It's been on and off (more off than on) since 4 pm. Which is a pain when you're trying to study. That's what I do in the evenings.

Since I've got to get back to my reading (but wanted to get some computer stuff done quickly while we have power), here's a list of things for which I'm thankful tonight.

• So I'm thankful for my Kerosene lamp, which provides enough light to read by.
• I'm thankful for my house that keeps me dry.
• I'm thankful for Flannel who keeps me company.
• I'm thankful for my friendly neighbors who came to dinner last night, and that I was able to make some goodies and share it with a dozen or so people tonight.
• I'm thankful that my community is asking some of the hard questions of life, like what Christians should be like, or what the Gospel truly is, and why it is that things got ugly earlier this year despite the fact that Kenya's a Christian country.
• I'm thankful for the chance to study, and for all I'm learning in this program, even though some of the things I'm learning about myself (stuff I should be doing very differently in ministry) isn't always fun to learn. But it's good, and for that, I'm infinitely thankful.
• I'm thankful that the very nasty flu virus making the rounds has not affected me.
• I'm thankful for God's provision every day, and for his grace.
• And I'm thankful that my reading pile is going down... (The pile on the right in the picture are the books I've read. The pile on the left (and on the desk) is what I'm aiming to have completed by the end of next week, so I can focus on writing my paper on women in ministry. I think that's what my topic will be, at least.
• I'm thankful that none of our kids got hurt when the bridge (on which they were walking) broke on Sunday! (More about that later this week.)
• I'll be thankful when the power's back up later so I can get this posted and possibly take a warm shower. (Without power, we don't have warm water. It's a risk to get into the shower while the power keeps going out... You end up taking really cold showers!)

Back to reading!

Friday Night Live

I believe in many parts of the world, Friday night means the work week is over, that you can kick back and relax, perhaps catch a movie with friends (or even go on a date, imagine!), and look forward to two days of pure relaxation, of doing whatever pleases your heart.

In some places where I've stayed, I'd get up early on Saturdays and go to farmers' markets to buy fresh-baked goods and home-grown vegetables. I'd go for breakfast with friends and enjoy the day in the garden, or wherever the road takes me.

Here, Friday nights aren't much different than other nights. I had a colleague over for dinner. Caught up on children's home blog posts since our power was out all day. Went to encourage kitchen staff. Chatted with the intern about what he's learning. Now, I get to finish the second half of the text book I was supposed to finish last night, but couldn't due to power outages.

Tomorrow, I could go to an all-day AIDS campaign. I am not going since I'm behind on reading. On Sunday, I'll sleep in a little, spend my devotion time in my gazebo by the river, then head out to the 3-hour church service, a stone's throw from my door. I might be asked to take colleagues to town to catch a bus.

I miss the variety weekends bring in cities and towns bigger than a rural village. I miss the freedom of wheels to take me places to escape. I miss my friends and family tonight.

But Flannel's here. She's been a great companion, and I know she's happy I'm stuck at home.

The Salvation Army Band is playing to their hearts' content in our training center hall. Some of my sweet colleagues would say, "Isn't that wonderful?" They can go on for hours, playing every tune in their repertoire. Again and again. But the always-a-tint-off-key sounds floating into my room, droning out the soothing music I had playing, is too much for me tonight. And they'll start playing again tomorrow morning at 7:00. I'm complaining, I know. Right now, I'm not going to apologize for complaining. I want to be out with friends. Tomorrow will be a better day.

After the storm

This afternoon, we had one of our typical afternoon storms. Rain. Lots of it. Thunder. Lightning. Hail. More rain. I love the sound of it on my metal roof. But I always wonder which of my neighbors might have gotten caught in the storm as they're walking from one place to another...

After the storm, I put on my gumboots and a rain coat, and headed over the children's home for devotions. I love watching the kids sing and dance.

Rooney, dancing in his onesies! Got to love it!

Collins

Reading Bible

Improvising - using water barrels for drums

They get so excited about sharing their testimonies and memory verses! Kit, an intern, led the devotion, and then the kids were asked if they had payer requests. Hands went up and many kids all wanted to say they have to remember to pray for Jeptum!

Kit, leading devotions. The girl in front of him is Flovia. Read her story here. She came to us in May, too, severely malnourished. The staff nurtured her back to life. She's now the newest member of our children's home.

Jeptum (in the photo below) moved to our community in May. She's 17, and has diabetes that is out of control to the point that Jeptum is blind. Since she has moved here, staff and members of the home-based-care team have been taking care of her, trying to get her sugar levels under control so she can receive surgery.


Her condition has improved greatly, but not to the point yet that she can receive the eye surgery. The kids, however, have been fervently praying for her healing. I am joining them in believing God for Jeptum's healing!

I love being part of this community, where people care deeply about their neighbors. I am learning much from my Kenyan neighbors...

Heading back home, I chatted with some of the little neighbors, kids who go to our school and live in the dorm. They love having me take their pictures!

Then I stopped by the kitchen to visit with the staff who were cooking for a group of trainees. Here's Ruth (not one of the kitchen staff - she's our social worker).


I headed home, not sure what I'd cook tonight. I have lots of veggies in the house, and with it still being pretty cold after the storm, I made a pot of vegetable soup.


I took some to my neighbors, too, and am now ready to finish another book from my reading list. Right now, I'm reading a book on the traditional cultural practices in the Kalenjin culture. Though most of them are no longer practiced, there are still some remnants of these practices left today. In fact, even as I was working on a project with my colleague Mwei this morning, he was telling me about some of the traditions which are contrary to our Christian beliefs.

I'm learning much from my neighbors. All it takes is a curious mind, a listening ear, and a relationship built on trust.

Some of these components come easier than others.

Culture

I was sitting around the lunch table today with three dear Kenyan colleagues, having a meeting about child sponsorships.

"Adele, is that all you will eat? Or is there more coming?" Emily asked, looking at my bowl of fruit salad.

"This is it. I'm just having a salad for lunch."

"But will that really satisfy you?" she continued, really concerned that I would only ingest a bowl of fruit.

"It is sufficient, yes. I'm trying to reduce." (That's Kenyan for loosing weight.)

"Eh! But Adele. There is nothing wrong with you." Veronica chipped in. "Is it your culture that says you are too heavy?"

You've got to love these ladies! I explained that my culture has nothing to do with the fact that I'm trying to loose 10 pounds. (I didn't add that I actually have a bet going with 2 friends - whoever does not loose 10 lbs before mid August has to pay up!) They suggested that I overcome the hurdle of tight-fitting clothes by simply buying bigger sizes. But that's exactly what I do NOT want to do.

We talked about the fact that another colleague of ours told me this week, "Eh! Adele! You got really big in America!"

Ouch.

Except, my friends suggested it was truly a compliment. It wasn't meant in a condescending manner whatsoever. I should know. I'm African. But it still just doesn't feel good when friends make comments like that.

Or like the one from another friend last week. "Eh! Adele! Your hair is really . . . BIG!"

I just smiled a really odd smile and said, "Thank you."

I'm not from Texas. I don't aim for big hair. And honestly, it wasn't "big."

Anyway. I don't have hangups with my hair or my waist size. I just am trying to get in better shape.

On a completely different cultural note: I have gotten an offer for my car. I called a colleague who is interested in rebuilding it and told him the offer I had gotten. "If you can meet the offer, the car is yours."

He called back 5 minutes later, offering me less, but adding 2 cows to the offer. It really made me laugh. I'd actually consider the offer, funny enough. It depends on the condition of the cows. I could let them graze at friends' house so they can get the income from the cows. It's a way to help people without giving them a hand-out.

I think it'll be funny to say "I sold my car for x amount, plus 2 cows." But I don't think it'll come to that.

"Thank you for giving me Jesus"

This morning, after I had had chai at a number of colleagues' homes in Ilula, I noticed Silas Sifuna standing at our training center, obviously waiting to visit with me. Mama Chiri was there to translate.

It's the first time I've seen him since his graduation and baptism, and he was beaming!

"He has come to say 'thank you,'" Mama Chiri explained. Silas explained to me how different his family's lives are now that he is sober and his children and healthy and in school.

"But the best thing I got in rehab is Jesus," he said with the biggest smile ever. "Thank you for giving me Jesus."

And then he explained how, when they moved back home after rehab (Mama Chiri was taking care of his children during that time), that there were NO JIGGERS at the house any more. None. Not even one, he emphasized. "Those jiggers were all Satan's work!" he said without blinking.

We continued visiting about life at the Sifuna house. He's been trying hard to continue finding day jobs. Sometimes he works at our training center (whenever there's a job), but most days, he walks throughout our neighborhood to look for a temp job.

"This week was hard. I didn't find work even one day," he explained. He made it clear that all he is asking of me is if I would keep my ears open about a job in that area.

I was able to send him with some Unga (flour for ugali) and sugar (considered a staple here for chai), and he was very thankful for that. And some bread I had bought yesterday. Unfortunately I didn't have more food with me. But I know Silas wants to work; not get handouts. At the same time, it helps being able to come home with something to feed the kids.

When I drove by his house later in the afternoon, the kids came running. I was thankful from the depths of my heart to see all four looking really good. Kipruto speaks more than before, saying, "Mzuri" (Fine!) with the biggest smile when you ask him how he's doing. Joanna (Jemutai) was sure to use all her 1st grade English on me, and told me that they really like school.

She made sure to tell me "Adele... Pole kwa ghari" (Sorry about your car!). I know she really, really meant it. Here, when one person in the community suffers, so does everyone. People hurt with you!

I picked up Kit, our new intern, from the airport, and headed back to Kipkaren in the rain. The kids here couldn't be more excited about Kit's arrival. He's our first intern this year, and the little ones can't wait to teach him Swahili.

Kit and I joined Allison, Juli, Michelle and some of our Kenyan friends for dinner at David's house, ending the evening with a game of Sequence. (We girls won, just so you know.)

Like almost every single day in Kenya, it was yet another packed day, but a good one... Tomorrow, visitors are coming to my home for lunch. I'm planning on serving lunch in our new gazebo by the river.

Anyone joining us?