But do not gloat over the day of your brother
    in the day of his misfortune;
do not rejoice over the people of Judah
    in the day of their ruin;
do not boast
    in the day of distress. (obadiah 1:12)

This is Darlene.  It has been a somewhat tumultuous time in my work scene in the past month, with hasty departures both among my direct co-workers and people that I have worked for/worked near in years past.  I am struck by how hard it is to put the principles exemplified above into practice in some cases.  My natural reaction is to gloat at the downturn of those who for some reason have lost my respect professionally.  To consider and even savor in my mind all the things that made this loss of face occur. 

It's an active struggle to not engage in the water cooler, aka cube-land gossip. I have to confess that, especially with some individuals, I do.  I realized today how empty that made me feel.

I am reminded of other verses that talk about what I should be boasting in:

"If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness." - 2 Cor. 11: 30

"My soul makes its boast in the LORD; let the humble hear and be glad." - Psalm 34: 2

"but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the LORD.” - Jeremiah 9:34

This does not take away the fact that I fundamentally think that people who are slackers, bullies, or liars are not ideal co-workers.  In serious cases of malfeasance, it is important that truth come to light.  But I think in large part, I put myself in the place of judge (and mocker) and that's not where I belong.

Ask me about it in person some time, see whether I can cite any growth in this area (with God's help).  I need it.

Watching Euro 2012 and completely useless right now. Regarding the almost getting arrested though, yes, it's true. For two hours on Monday a police officer drove around un-fun parts of Nairobi with myself and the driver saying he was taking us to jail.  The driver had hit a pedestrian who was in the back seat with me. He was fine, but when the driver hit him the police had seen the whole thing.

It was the driver's fault. Completely. The man was simply standing in the middle of the road and wasn't moving. Stupid, yes, but not worthy of being plowed into. But the driver disagreed and did exactly that. He just drove right through the guy. 

As I said the man was okay, shaken and understandably angry, but okay. But, again, a policeman and a policewoman had seen the entire thing. They angrily came at the car and started pounding on the hood of the car yelling for the driver to pull over. He did and something happened that is never good. A huge crowd surrounded the vehicle. They were just curious onlookers, but one can never know. Kenya has a reputation for public justice.

The policeman (the policewoman was suddenly nowhere to be found) came around to my side of the vehicle and demanded that I get out. I was surprised as to why I should get out and played the role of confused foreigner. He repeated his request while banging on the door, "You are to ALIGHT HERE!" I looked at the intensity of the policeman's face and the large crowd around the car and decided now was not a good time to pick a fight.

So I got out and the policeman got in the front seat and began yelling at the driver in Swahili. In the meantime, there I am with a large crowd of Kenyans wondering what to make of me. So I engaged them in conversation:

Me: Hello my friends! (I think I shook a hand or two) What is the situation here? What should I do?

Crowd: You need to get into the back of the vehicle.

At this point the policeman had directed the man who was hit to get into the backseat of the car and was wanting me to get into the back seat as well. The crowd alerted me to this request. So I got in and must say that I was relieved to have the car leave the eyes of the crowd.

As we drove the policeman was yelling in Swahili and English. One thing I remember most was when he yelled, "NO ONE is above the law!!" I secretly agreed with him and we kept driving.  Then he said, I am taking you both to jail." That's weird was my thought.

So I did the first thing that came to my mind. I turned to the young man who had been hit, who was sitting next to me in the car and I said:

Me: Hello my friend! Are you okay? Wewe sawa? Are you hurt?

Man: Very shy, Yes, I am okay.

Me: Oh that is so good my friend. Do you go to church? Do you believe in Jesus?

Man: I do not go to church but I do believe in Jesus.

Me: That is so good. I am so glad you are okay. Maybe we should thank God that you are okay, that everything is fine and continue on our days. What do you think my friend?

Man: Pointing at the policeman, He is in charge now. 

That's pretty weird I thought. The cop is in charge. He seems upset. I was still amazed that the driver had simply plowed into a man in the road. A man that he had seen in front of him for at least twenty feet before he hit him. W-E-I-R-D.

The policeman at this point is still talking about jail so I did what I had hoped not to. I called Darlene who was at the apartment that morning, she was staying home because she had a bad cold. 

Darlene: Hey Babe.

Me: Hey honey, I don't want you to worry or anything, everything is fine, but I think I'm being taken to jail.

Darlene: What?!?!?

David: Yeah, weird. The driver hit a pedestrian. Listen, I need the number to the embassy. I think it's better if I don't go to jail.

Darlene: Okay, uh. Are you okay? 

Me: Yeah, everything is fine. It's just a weird situation.

So Darlene started contacting her embassy contacts and the cop kept yelling about jail. So I touched the cop gently on the shoulder and said:

Me: My friend,

Cop: What do you want?

Me:  My friend, I am so glad you are here, you are doing such a professional job. I just need to inform you that a security car from the US Embassy is coming to where we are. 

Cop: They are coming or you are going to call?

I was wondering which one he wanted to hear the least so I responded with a vague, My wife works at the embassy. I called her.

Cop: So a car is on its way?

So that's what he didn't want.

Me: Yes, a security car is on its way. (Not)

Cop: Why did you do that?

Me: My friend, the US Government is my big mcubwa (spelling is probably wrong but means boss) and if situations like this arise we are required to call them. You are doing such a great job (Not) and they will not interfere with you (I think), I just need you to know that they are coming to assist in the situation (Not).

The policeman immediately told the driver to pull the car to the side of the road. We had been driving around so much that I realized we were not actually that far from where the whole incident began. The driver got out and walked to the passenger side to talk to the cop. I took the opportunity to get out of the car as there was no crowd and things felt better out of the vehicle. 

I went back to working phone numbers Darlene was sending me to actually talk to someone at the embassy. I kept trying to call the duty officer but no one was answering. Eventually, the cop came up to me (after much time of yelling at both the driver and the man who had been hit) and said:

Cop: Everything is okay now, this man has withdrawn his complaint.

Me: Oh that is so very good. So what does that mean exactly?

Cop: It means that everyone can go.

Me: Oh that is so good. Do you go to church my friend? Do you believe in Jesus?

Cop: Smiling. No, I am a Muslim.

Me: Smiling back. OK, then inshallah (if God wills it) this will never happen again.

Cop: Laughing. Yes!

And then he was gone. And then the man who was hit slowly walked away. I asked the driver if he had given the cop money and he said no, the cop just made him agree to buy the guy he hit lunch. Like I said, weird.

I learned a few things later from Kenyan friends I told the experience to:

One, the cop was not taking us to jail (at least initially) but was driving us around hoping that I would say enough and start giving the cop money to let us go.

Two, if the driver had been in the car with a Kenyan the driver would have been taken straight to jail because the cops would not have seen an opportunity for a large sum of cash to come their way.

Three, if I had not called the embassy it is likely that he may have eventually taken us to jail. It was the fear of the US Embassy personnel getting involved that made him want to pull the car over.  I said I was confused about that since the Americans were not going to do anything to the cop. But I was told the policeman knew he was trying to get money out of the situation and did not want to be publicly embarrassed by having more witnesses to his ploy.

Four, the crowd was a bad sign and it was good to have gotten out of its vicinity. Most are just gawkers, but things can change quickly. As an example of public justice being served in Kenya, a short while later we saw two men who had been caught stealing. They were in a very bad spot and after seeing what happened I'm questioning if yelling thief is the right thing to do if I am ever mugged. How much is my stuff actually worth?

As I read all this I realize I am leaving a lot out. When it was all over I called Paul in Kayole and said Paul, I just almost got arrested so I've had enough excitement for one day. I'm going home to take a nap.

Paul agreed that that was a good idea. And so I did. And I am proud to say the rest of the day I stayed in the apartment and dreamed of a relaxing Lufthansa flight to the U.S. on August 30th. Way too much stimulation for one day.

We were both out late and need to sleep. But here, for your viewing pleasure, are some exciting videos of monkeys...and an elephant expert. Tomorrow, I will explain about my two hour ordeal of nearly getting arrested by the Kenyan police.  For now, just enjoy the monkeys.

This monkey and I were very wary of each other.

This video shows how playful these creatures can be.

They didn't even mind being watched by other animals up close.

The elephant expert.

the only way to help Congo

This is Darlene.  I've been reflecting today about how David and my work worlds have collided in some ways and diverge in others here in Nairobi.

The areas of divergence are obvious: I spend my days behind dozens of guards and big fences in the Embassy; David is in one of Nairobi's poorer neighborhoods full of "informal settlements" walking from house to house.  I eat a good square meal at the Embassy cafeteria or at a restaurant frequented by Westerners; David eats (some days) at people's homes and (some days) he buys buns at a nearby grocery store where he is stared at as the only mzungu.  And in terms of day-to-day work, I regularly talk with political officers, NGOs, and other officials about Congo; David talks with Congolese.

In DC, we call this the macro/micro split.  We are pretty used to living in those two worlds while we're in Washington--me in the world of "big aid" and policymakers and David in the world of local DC politics and the lives of DC youth.

But in some interesting ways, here, we've begun to work on converging issues: I spend my days shaping, funding, and managing programs designed to assist Congolese caught in the crossfire of violence within eastern Congo, and David meets daily with Congolese that somehow, some way, made their way through horrific violence to get here to Nairobi.  We are both looking up places on maps of Congo's vast terrain.   And we both pray that God will bring peace to the country and the individuals affected.

I found this article today and thought it spoke nicely to the importance of considering local issues in the macro-level policy decisions that are being made daily in the seats of power.  It's about Congo.  I'm going to share it with my co-workers at the Embassy, but I'm also curious what the Congolese here in Nairobi would think about it.  And now, I know someone who can ask.

Paul, my colleague at JRS, is a multi-talented individual. The first week in Kayole we went to a particulary difficult home visit and afterwards I asked him what he did to take care of himself and release his stress. He responded that he sang as a form of self-care. I think I made a silly joke like, "In the shower?"  He chuckled and said no, in a choir.

A few days ago he showed me a clip from a choir of his, one that he actually directs. They were performing at a music festival and were quite impressive. I hope to get other videos from him and even see them live. Enjoy.

These are the Chyulu Hills in southeastern Kenya. They contain caves where, during the Mau Mau rebellion, guerrilla fighters hid from the British. Now, during the day, they contain the elephants that we hoped to see during our stay at Umani Springs. As they only come to the camp area at night, we did not see the elephants.  Yet we did see photos taken by a motion sensor camera. These showed that at 3:45 am on June 23 a massive bull elephant (with big tusks) was no more than 100 yards from the camp.  So close...yet so dark at night.

But back to the hills. On our walk through the surrounding landscape I stopped and began to contemplate my life as I took in the view.  When I do this I inevitably come back to my fear of loss and the anxiety that this brings. Eventually, I find that the beautiful surrounding is not congruent with my mood. It is as if I am staring at something lovely through a haze. I see a lovely vista with all of my fears imprinted on it. It sucks.

But something new happened this time. As I looked at the hills full of history, pain, and the elusive elephants, I realized that my fears and anxieties are really a series of intense questions that only the Bible is able to answer:

How can I move forward with joy knowing one day I will lose someone I love? They will die and I will not be able to see them, talk to them, listen to them. This is not a dramatic statement, but as factual as saying two and two is four. Saying it is better not to think about these things only postpones the moment when one is forced to deal with them.

How do I deal with the speed of life? I was 10 the other day and now one of my nieces is nearing the same age.

Where do I go when I am being overrun with fear, when I am realizing that nothing I can see is infinite? It is like thinking the ground is solidly firm...and then the earthquake begins and there is nowhere one can go to escape. You can only wait to see what happens.

Only the Bible I am finding can answer these questions. And I felt better and the Chyulu Hills came into focus. And then the voice of a Congolese man I met last week came into my mind. A politician in DRC, this man had seen death, exile, and poverty.  He was panicking when he arrived in Nairobi because he and his family had no food and he had to make a plan at the same time he had to listen to his children crying about their tummys. He had lived through terrible things.

Yet he said, "Does God not see the killer coming to commit the murder? Does God not see the wasting disease making its way through the body? Does God not see the car coming around the corner and the child it is going to strike? He sees it all. Everything is in his hands."  The hills became even clearer and my mind felt peace. Everything is in his hands.  And what happens happens, and that is okay. Because in his hands there is a time for everything.

Here is another shot of the hills.

weekend!

This is Darlene.  We are rushing out the door to go to Chyulu Hills National Park to a beautiful tented camp that our friend invited us to. We're excited! We won't be blogging over the weekend, but we'll return on Sunday with lots of stories.  In the meantime, take a look at the headlines in today's news:

National outrage greets MPs mutilation of Constitution

More soon!

Thanks to Darlene and Uncle Sam we are able to have private drivers for most of our transportation needs here in Kenya (I utilize a bus for one portion of my commute). A man named Benedict is a driver with whom we have grown the closest. He welcomed us kindly in Kenya and has been a language teacher, a cultural liason, and a Christian brother.

One day I shared with Benedict my joke about the toad that wants to be a rabbit.

What does a toad that wants to be a rabbit say? It says "Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit." The joke killed as it has with every Kenyan I have told it to. I think I could make it as a stand-up comic here but that is for another post. In return, Benedict shared some of his jokes with me. They are all about the Masai and how primitive they are ("They are so primitive!" is how each of the jokes end).

I told Benedict about the blog and asked if I could film him and he was all for it. So here in color is one of Benedict's jokes.

World Refugee Day was today. Travis and I went to an event at the Nairobi National Museum to commemorate the day. I wish I had my camera, there was so much to photograph. The dancers, the acrobats, the various cultures on display. My  favorite moment though was the dance by the Somalis. The threat of terrorism from Somalia bred al-Shabaab has Kenya on a certain edge. People cheered loudly for the previous group (from Burundi I think), but there seemed to be a subdued feel that came upon the audience when the Somali group was introduced.

They began their dance which was really just a continuous moving circle of them clapping. I felt they looked nervous and shy. People clapped politely to the music, but it seemed that there was a gigantic elephant in the room. Then, slowly, one could hear ululations and Somali men and women began to join their countrymen on stage. One by one they ran to the stage and joined the clapping circle.

I felt a little choked up. I have been told that no one trusts Somalis. I have been told the Kenyan Police raid Easteleigh and other Somali neighborhoods on a regular basis. I have been told that everyone wants Somalia to get better so the Somalis can return. I do not know if these statements are true or if they reflect the opinions of most Kenyans. But the sentiments are there. And yet for a moment this group of Somalis was able to express their culture in front of Kenyan government officials, UNHCR representatives, and the Kenyan media.

I wish I had a video. Maybe the news media will put something online soon. Currently, I have not been able to find anything from the event.

This was my first wild giraffe sighting ever. Judging from the giraffe's expression I may have been his first sighting of a mzungu from Washington, DC.

Giraffes stare alot. On the way back from Green Crater Lake we passed a giraffe standing about 10 feet from a safari van, just staring at the passengers taking its picture. This photo is not of that giraffe, but the stares are the same. I think they were planning something.

The official name of this animal is "Big deer look-a-like." Judging by its ability to look intensely at us for long periods of time I think it is somehow related to the giraffe.

Zebras are terrible at blending in with their surroundings. And if you look at this photo long enough it appears to be a three-headed zebra. When testing this out, make sure you do not blink.

Tragically cute.

This was a monkey we saw in a tree while hiking around the crater rim. Monkeys are cool...to us. To the Kenyans they are about as exciting as squirrels.



The park rangers made us (meaning me) terrified of the buffalo. "Beware of the buffalo," they said. "They are very dangerous and will charge you." It got to the point where I became very scared of seeing a buffalo. I would hurry Darlene in taking her photographs and say we needed to walk more quickly. Maybe they are dangerous, but we only saw them sleeping from far away. Perhaps they are just misunderstood, but this photo says, "No, they will eat your soul."

"Are the hippos big?" I asked. Mainor, the Kenyan at reception replied, "Ahhh, they are very big." I can only agree with him because I have seen pictures. The ones we saw right off shore in our campground never came higher out of the water than this. They would just glide around with eyes and ears hanging out of the water. I wonder if they do that to feel sneaky.

It's just a cow.

This is Darlene.  First of all, I should say that we had a very lovely weekend in our beautiful campsite right on Lake Naivasha, with thick grass and a beautiful canopy of acacia trees.  It was a welcome change of scenery and extremely peaceful...during the daytime.

We maybe had an inkling of what we were getting into when the manager of the campsite where we stayed told us ahead of time that there would be a live band that we would need to pay for.  It wasn't too much, so we didn't mind.  When we arrived and saw the restaurant space/concert area, we thought it looked like a perfect place to chill, and live music would probably make it even better.

They started at about 8:45 p.m.--about 45 minutes late (pretty typical). Good music; nice bluesy, funky sound; pretty weird crowd with a mix of young and old--travelers, "Kenyan cowboys," and hangers-on.  The band itself seemed to be a mix of Gen Xers and baby boomers.  When we walked from the onsite restaurant to the campsite at about 10 p.m. to begin getting ready for bed, they were still going strong.  When we turned out the headlamp at around 11, the music had picked up pace.  I thanked God I had packed earplugs (two pairs, although David didn't need them) and put them in at about 11:15 p.m.  I woke up after 3:00 a.m. to the sound of thumping bass and drums.  David heard the morning sounds of birds chirping before they finally relented somewhere around 5:00 a.m.

We were a little thrown off by the whole experience.  I remember turning over sometime around 3:30 a.m. thinking to myself, "we paid more money to sleep less!"  And it was hard to understand what, other than wandering, brought many of the people there to dance and drink until morning light.

We will post more pictures of our time in Naivasha and Crater Lake Sanctuary soon.  I wish I could show you a picture of this band and their groupies, though, just so that you could help us try to understand the contradictions packed into the experience.  David greeted one of the staff members the next morning, who asked him conspiratorially whether we partied hard until the morning.  We wondered whether that was all he saw of mzungus.

We just returned from Lake Naivasha and tomorrow will post photos and videos from the weekend. Plus thoughts on the strange tensions that seem to arise while being a mzungu in Africa.

For now, please enjoy these photos, chosen specifically to celebrate Fathers Day.

Fathers focus in on us.

We look forward to seeing them when they are far away.

Happy Fathers Day!

We are going camping in the Rift Valley in Naivasha, leaving in about 20 minutes. This is a picture someone took in the past of hippos grazing near the campsite at night. Yikes.

new friends and floral arrangements

David makes friends with everyone he meets, today being no exception. His time in Kayole and lots of practice with the drivers, the guards, and anyone else who will banter with him has really improved his Kiswahili. Everyone appreciates that he makes the effort.  (I, on the other hand, probably knew more words the first couple of days than I do now.  Even the local staff at work speak English most of the day.)

My dear husband got me flowers today from the local flower vendor, Simon. (David briefly met Simon when Travis, he, and I were walking to church last week).  I like that David learns people's names and builds trust and rapport with people.  Being with him helps me feel freer to go places, do things, meet people...the last time I was here, I spent a lot of time in the hotel (other than weekend trips via plane outside the city).

The flowers David brought home are absolutely beautiful.  I should have taken advantage of daylight to get a good shot, but these low light shots will have to do for now.  Take a look at that "bird of paradise" flower!  This photo really doesn't do it justice.

All of the flowers are gorgeous, and some of them even match the painting that is hanging near the dining table in our apartment.

We're off camping tomorrow morning (an example of something I definitely did not do when I was here 4 years ago).  We're looking forward to it!  Off to pack...

I am in Kayole, a neighborhood in Nairobi to help build a peacebuilding program for the Congolese, Rwandan, and Burundian refugees.  The Congolese are the largest client community of JRS in this area.

This photograph is my list of all the villages and areas that the Congolese refugees have come from.  Currently, I am in the process of making a map of where these villages are in relation to each other. We want to know this information to find out how conflicts might have been resolved in the past.

For example, if JRS has two Congolese clients in a conflict here in Kenya, and one is from Fizi and the other from Uvira, and if these two villages happen to be near each other, our first question for them would be, "In DRC, if your villages had a conflict, how would it be resolved?" Our hope is that this map would allow JRS to create a peace building program that remains culturally sensitive.  Before we open clients to new structures, the goal is to make them feel on familiar ground before taking them to something different.

Yet things are so complicated for DRC and the refugees. From conversations so far I have learned that DRC has over 420 tribes, a conflict involving resources, ethnicity, politics, and generational war. I talked with three young men today (around 23 years of age) who explained how the problem from DRC has shown itself in Kayole. "We have very little physical conflict," they said through translation, "we are guests in Kenya and we cannot fight each other, we are all in the same situation.  What we have here is psychological conflict.  We walk down the street and, it has happened, we see someone who has killed our mother, our brother, a member of our family, and, ahhhhh (holds his head), it drives a person crazy."

In conflict studies the word "intractable" is well-known.  A multi-layered conundrum that has many openings by which fuel is being added.  Plugging one does not stop the fire. Yet Paul, the JRS social worker I am working with, wrote the other day that he feels the conflicts in Kayole are centered around a lack of acceptance and forgiveness.  Accepting what has happened and forgiving the other.  I agree with him, on a fundamental level I think he is absolutely right. But this is not something that happens immediately. I remember young boys at the jail who had lost friends and were consumed with the idea of payback.  Acceptance and forgiveness was exactly what they needed but exactly what they had no strength to lay hold of.

This is a situation where God has to intervene.  We will design a peacebuilding program for Kayole, but may God be present because regardless of nationality, ability, and knowledge, the DRC situation laughs at those who approach with the hubris to think they have the final answer.

"You hear, O Lord, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more." Psalm 10:17-18

Today's post is not about Kenya, although I (David) did ride a motorcycle back from Kayole today to town and it was something I simultaneously never want to do again and always do again. A terrible drug, a story for when there is longer to write.

Father's Day is coming up and I saw this article about how children have been coddled and told they are the greatest thing in the world and how that has hurt the younger generations.

Just wanted to say a big thanks to my parents for always loving me, but still telling me when I screwed up, when no, I actually did not do the best.  Thanks for telling me I could be better Mom and Dad. Seriously, I cannot imagine where I would be if I had never had to deal with the emotions that come with losing. I love you guys very much.

A walk in the woods

Lots to write, but we had a wonderful dinner at a friend's house and watched Born to be Wild - the movie about elephant and orangutan orphans (so cute!) - so, it's time for bed.

Thought since we haven't had very many shots of the two of us on the blog that I'd post one today.  This is what David and I will look like when we have a dog of our own (notice I said "when" and not "if"!)  This was taken on our lovely hike through the Karura forest.  It was a bit muddy in spots, but still worth the trek. 

Karura Forest was the site of a great deal of controversy for a number of years, with environmentalists and other local groups--including Nobel laureate Waangari Matthai--leading protests against development and land grabs.  It also used to be plagued by bandits from a particular part of Nairobi, and when I was last here, it was off limits to American staff. 

Apparently, one of the Embassies partnered with businesses and other nature lovers to remake the forest into a place where people could safely walk, run, or bike.  Someone got the idea of hiring people from the part of Nairobi all the bandits were from as security guards and paying them incentives for how long the park went without a security incident.  They also knew all of the bandits and were able to identify them/scare them away.  Along with the funding for fencing and patrols, this enabled the forest to be a lovely oasis of nature in the big, traffic-filled, exhaust fume-laden city.  I thought that sounded like a pretty smart way to turn things around. 

We had a lovely time walking and talking, but there was a lot more of the forest that we didn't have time to explore.  Maybe another weekend.  In the meantime, take a look at this muddy waterfall (and Travis's muddy boots).

 

In October of 2011, the Kenyan military invaded Somalia in response to the number of refugees crossing the border, piracy in the waters off of their coast, and kidnappings and attacks on the shared border committed by al-Shabab.  I watched the above video from one of Kenya's news stations which covered the Kenyans advance on al-Shabab towns.  It made me laugh.

The Kenyans have not been involved in any intense military operations for awhile and from people we have talked to it seems that the entire country is in support of the action.  Doctors, taxi drivers, social workers, and friends of friends all say they want al-Shabab to be destroyed.  Which brings me back to why I laughed during this news clip. The correspondents narration, his tone and words, clearly convey the "Kenya, Hell Yeah!" attitude.

While funny (pay attention to their reason to dress as soldiers rather than wear flak vests that say "PRESS"), this video demonstrates what happens when journalism crosses into cheerleading.  Here is an example of what journalism should be (and also insight into the results of the invasion).

While I do not intend to start some political debate from long ago, to be fair to Kenya it should be noted that they are not the only country whose journalists fall prey to this temptation.

This is what God's provision looks like. I hope that everyone has the experience of diving deep into conversation and know what it feels like to have someone's full attention. Look at the faces of Patrick and his wife Grace. They are not pretending to listen intently and intentionally. This is not a pose. This is who they are.

And to us it was manna from heaven. From 7:00 pm to 12:30 am Patrick and Grace made us feel like family. We arrive and are immediately invited to sit for conversation. They ask each of us about our backgrounds, our experiences so far in Kenya, and how our work is going.  Their two sons play around us as we talk and periodically ask their own questions. They are lively, inquisitive boys.  They are also bold: "Daddy, Daddy, don't you think that it is time you stop all this adult conversation?"

We move to dinner and the conversation moves to the lives of Patrick and Grace. They are genuine and even admit that being real is something they want to be.  They grew up poor in rural Africa and are now doctors.  Yes, there is a story there. Patrick attributes the success to Jesus and education. But not in that order. "Jesus came into my life and showed me who I really was, gave me my identity. He showed me that the fact I was born in Kenya, the way I talk and walk, my skin color, the way I think, none of it is by accident. I knew whose I was.  And then education." 

The evening played into my thoughts on approaching life in joy.  I am not an accident. It is easy to say this now as so much in my life is good. Yet, how mysterious this is, that even if my life takes a turn I do not foresee and do not desire...I am still not an accident.  I belong to Jesus and my life has purpose.  And he is working all things for good. All things. This brings a new perspective and opens up room for bringing joy into darkness. Because no one is an accident.  Even those with whom darkness seems to be a daily struggle. They are not accidents, who suddenly appeared to experience pain and misery and then death. Jesus is able to work good in their situations as well. As Patrick quoted, "God works all things for good. So if things are not good, then believe me brother, it is not the end."

We are heading out today for a hike with Travis and a friend of Darlene's from work. We are also excited to be having dinner tonight with the Kenyan doctors, Patrick and Grace, and their children that we ran into randomly about a week ago. Because of all this, there likely will not be time for a post later.

So, for today, please enjoy this photograph of our difficult living conditions:

This photo was taken from the balcony of our spartan penthouse. The pool is not heated and the gazebo looking thing in the center only holds a gym and a relaxation room. Another day we can give you a video tour.

This is a satellite image of the Kibera slum, one of the (if I may use the term) most famous slums in Africa (it is the second largest) and the world (it is the third largest). We passed by it a few days ago on the way to the elephant orphanage. It is so dense you could probably walk across the whole thing by simply walking from roof to roof.

To be honest, I desired to take photographs, but another part of me said it would be wrong.  Besides, there are plenty of photos of it already on the internet:

The vast majority of the residents do not have electricity or running water. Their ground is filth and trash. I am not intending to demean the people that live there, simply trying to give facts. It is not a stop one would necessarily think of making if one flew thousands of miles to visit Kenya.

But people do.

Check out the following links when you get a chance. There may be others:

http://explorekibera.com/index.html
http://kiberatours.com/

I am a little thrown off by the one website which describes Kibera as "the friendliest slum in the world."  Maybe it is, but it just feels funny to me.

Are such "slum tours" ethical? Do they help or hurt the local community? Are there better ways to fuel the economy of a slum or is money earned by any means helpful? At the end of the day is the tour about the local community or the tourist? Am I any different if one day I take my camera (only with permission) on a home visit with JRS?

I am wondering what people think.

on being "stuck"

This is Darlene.  It's surprising to me how exhausting a day of sitting and waiting can be.  I woke up today, in Nairobi, feeling like I had been hit by a mack truck.  Which, of course, I had not been.  But I had spent the day traveling to nowhere.

David and I had had a conversation the night before about me feeling a bit "stuck" at work.  Going from one cubicle in Washington to another at the US Embassy compound in Nairobi, I somewhat envied his freedom of movement and the constant learning environment that he's been in at JRS.  We agreed that it was rather silly of me to be talking about feeling stuck when I was about to travel to one of the most uncommonly traveled places I had ever been.

Yes, I was supposed to go to Bangui, Central African Republic, i.e. pretty much the middle of nowhere, yesterday at 7:40 a.m.  I started the "day" at 3:55 a.m. and got to the airport a little after 5:15 a.m.
 
It just so happened to be a day that Nairobi's international airport closed for 9 hours due to a flight that ran off the runway at about 3:30 a.m. (all passengers were fine) and ended up stuck in the mud, with one wing hanging over the runway itself--the one and only runway for all flights.

I spent the day--and I mean, the entire day--stuck at the airport. A nine-hour cessation of flights meant a world of hurt for the airlines, the Kenyan Aviation Authority, and thousands of stranded passengers, both those waiting for flights in Nairobi, as well as those diverted to Mombasa, Entebbe, or Dar es Salaam. 

It was a bit of a case of group-think, our long stay at the airport.  While other flights were either departing late or being cancelled, our flight kept being delayed but never going and never being cancelled. 

1:00 p.m. turned into 2:30 p.m. turned into no certain time, but not cancelled.  At about 3:30 p.m., one of my colleagues also going to Bangui asked the information desk what was happening for our flight and noted that it wasn't on the board.  So the woman at the info desk added Bangui to the board for a 7:30 p.m. departure.  We weren't quite sure if she did that just to make him happy or because it was our real departure time. 

We waited and waited, thinking that because they did not cancel our flight as they had for many others, that it would surely leave soon.  The main organizer of our trip thought that we needed to stick it out until it was cancelled, so we agreed to wait until 7:30.  Each time a departure time would come and go, we'd discuss whether it was worth it to stay.  Each time, we agreed that we had waited too long to give up now.

When they moved us through the gate and the additional security checkpoint into the boarding area at 6:45 p.m., approaching 13 hours since we had arrived at the airport, we rejoiced and started talking about how wonderful it would be to lean back and sleep a bit on the plane.  We had not been there long when a woman came and announced that our plane had arrived but that our crew had not yet--but that they were on their way. 

I had kept my cool the entire time, putting on the mantle of "Africa-time" and showing my traveler savvy.  But by this point, I was done with waiting.  I did not show my frustration, but I inwardly decided that if at any point, one of my fellow travelers decided that we were done waiting, I'd try to turn the tide of group-think and convince them that it was time to head home.  Spending the entire day at the airport for less than 1.5 days on the ground seemed to not be a good equation.  It took until 9:45 with still no information about the crew to finally convince my fellow travelers that it was no longer worth it.  We turned around, nearly 16 hours after arriving at the airport, and tried to make our way through immigration without standing in the 2-hour line, saying loudly, "we never left!"

I don't know whether other opportunities to travel for work will arise.  I may spend much of my work time here in a cubicle, reviewing proposals, just as I would have in Washington.  But I'm not in Washington.  I'm in Nairobi with my husband.  That is super-cool, i.e. a huge blessing.  I told David after our first conversation that I was most interested in learning something new, which is why I was feeling stuck in cube-land.  But I believe (or I'm asking God to help me believe) that God has much to teach me here--both in my cube and outside of the Embassy walls.  In my apartment spending time with David and upcountry seeing the sights.  Out exploring and at a friend's home for dinner.  I am definitely not stuck.

"he drew me out of...the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.  He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God" Ps. 40:2b-3a