BBC News - Africa image harming aid effort, says charity Oxfam

BBC News - Africa image harming aid effort, says charity Oxfam

Christ is Born

Improvised Advent Wreath, photo by Rob Vaughan

Καὶ ὁ λόγος σὰρξἐγένετο καὶ ἐσκήνωσεν ἐν ἡμῖν, καὶ ἐθεασάμεθα τὴν δόξαν αὐτοῦ, δόξαν ὡς μονογενοῦς παρὰπατρός, πλήρης χάριτος καὶ ἀληθείας. (John 1:14, NA26)

The synoptic birth narratives are fine and well.  Bethlehem, the manger, the three kings/wisemen are nice details which provide fuel for pageants and songs.  They offer concrete answers to the five Ws (who, what, when, where, why).

John goes to a higher level.  

John takes us back to the beginning, before creation.  John gives us a single point of light in a dark and chaotic universe.  A light which is not overcome, but which brings order, grace, and truth.

A light which calls and empowers us to do the same.

The Holy Land

 

Last Friday night, I spent a few hours dog-sitting for my site coordinator.  This presented me with a rare opportunity to watch TV (the TV in my apartment only gets on channel, and even that, only barely).  Being the news junkie that I am, I mostly switched back and forth between CNN and Al Jazeera English.  The Al Jazeera news ticker made one of the most interesting, and understated juxtapositions I’ve ever seen.  Two entries, listed back to back were:


-UN General Assembly overwhelmingly votes in favor of a diplomatic upgrade for Palestinian Authority to non-member observer state.       
-Israeli Government approves construction of 3,000  new settlement homes in the West Bank and East Jerusalem.
(Note that the links are similar stories which I added Monday, not necessarily exactly what the ticker was referring to on Friday).
The ticker itself made no mention of any possible link between these two actions—and in the headline recap, the anchor’s only comment was something to the effect of it being ‘unclear’ if the settlement homes were approved before or after the UN vote.  Of course, it doesn’t really matter if the homes were approved before or after the UN vote.  The outcome of the UN vote really wasn’t a surprise to anyone.  The timing of Israel’s announcement is, however, a pretty clear signal: the UN Vote may be largely symbolic (it doesn’t directly change anything, however it may open some possibility of ICC action).
Now, you might think that I’m only citing Al Jazeera, an Arab news source. Voice of America, The Telegraph, and even The Jerusalem Post are reporting essentially the same thing, even making the linkage more explicit. Additionally, The Guardian adds that Israel is withholding $120 million in Palestinian tax revenue, though it does appear that the Palestinian Authority does owe Israeli utilities a great deal of money.
This past weekend, I also came across this article from the BBC about the comment from Mark Regev, spokesman for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu that the UN vote will ‘hurt peace.’ Well, of course it will.  Israel will make certain that it does.  The Israeli government can say all it wants about desiring a two-state solution, but that is simply political theatre—the continued expansion of Israeli settlements, and the Israeli government’s tacit sanction of settler attacks on Palestinians and Palestinian land (here, here, here, and here) is a clear declaration that Israel will not permit the creation of a viable Palestinian state. 
The map below (as best I can tell, originally drawn in 2009 for Le Monde) is a stylized representation of the effect of Israeli settlements in the West Bank.  In this map, the water represents Israeli controlled regions, the warships are permanent check-points. The dark green zones are areas of only partial Palestinian autonomy.  For more analysis, go here.  Also, note that this map is from 2009.  Some of the islands will have shrunk in the past few years.

For a less stylized, but more official look at the fragmentation of the West Bank, the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (UNOCHA) has a PowerPoint that covers the same information.  Slide 21 is especially relevant.
Coming back to the issue of violence: both sides are guilty, and both sides need to put down their weapons.  However, Israel is by far the stronger party, and Israel is the party which benefits most from the status quo.  The Jewish Virtual Library lists the casualty numbers in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict from 1920 to the present (as of this posting, not yet updated for October/November 2012), including Palestinian terrorism, Israeli government operations, and the several Arab/Israeli wars, but excluding Israeli settler violence.  Since 1920, total Israeli/Jewish deaths: 24,526.  Total Palestinian/Arab deaths: 90,785.  According to The Guardian, the recent violence added 5 Israeli deaths and 161 Palestinians. Clearly, Israel is holding the bigger stick, and ultimately, this situation can only be resolved by both sides, but in the short term, it’s absurd to demand the weaker party give up more.  This column, from Slate focuses on ways Israel is ‘insulting our intelligence’ and says a lot of things I agree with.  I’m not trying to say that Israel is more culpable than Hamas, Fatah, the Palestinian Authority, or any other group of Palestinians, however, I do think that Israel is in the better position to accomplish change.
For a model of this, look at the Northern Irish Conflict.  Hamas has more in common with the IRA/Sinn Fein than might be initially apparent, at least in the US. Most people in Northern Ireland see it sufficiently clearly that the Israel/Palestinian Conflict had been adopted as a sort of proxy conflict—with Irish Nationalists generally supporting the Palestinians, and pro-British Unionists largely supporting Israel.  The crucial difference is that in Northern Ireland, U.S. support largely fell on the the side of the IRA/Sinn Fein.  This US support served to level the playing field—it put pressure on the UK to come to the table, and, the threat of withdrawing that support gave the US leverage over the IRA.  In contrast, it seems that the only question in the US is over just how much support the US should offer Israel, and just how blind the US can be about the results of that support.  For more on parallels between the Northern Irish conflict and the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, see here, here, here and here.  Or just Google it—there is much, much more out there.
Right, so I’m done.  Tell me why I’m wrong in the comments below.

Africa for Norway

This video, and the website behind it have prompted a lot of thought.  Go ahead, take some time to check it out.  I’ll wait.

First, what this site gets right:

1.  Africa is so much more than what it is portrayed as.  Kenya is a major hub for culture and commerce, and is almost defined by diversity.  There are more than 40 distinct ethnic groups, not including substantial Asian, European, and North American immigrant and expatriate populations.  Nairobi is one of the fastest growing cities in the world, and generally has a high standard of living.

Yes, there are places like Mathare, and yes, in writing that post I may be guilty of the same thing this site is trying to prevent.  All I can say is that I spent a lot of time thinking about that, and tried hard to balance several different concerns in writing it, and admit that in all likelihood, I missed that balance.  Nairobi also has landmarks of capitalism like Westgate and Junction.  Every city has both, and we need to do a better job of acknowledging that.  When we think of New York City, we need to think about the South Bronx as well as Times Square and Central Park.  When we think of Nairobi, we should think about Upper Hill and Karen as well as Kibera and Eastleigh.

2. “Aid must be based on real needs, not ‘good’ intentions.”  Yes.  The problem is not corruption, as many would claim…or at least, not only corruption.  One problem is that things are sent which are not needed.  Do a Google search for SWEDOW (Stuff We Don’t Want) for more examples.  This type of aid is wonderful for the companies that do it.  They buy themselves good will, allow their customers to feel good about themselves, and get a tax deduction for doing it.  I have no problem for companies finding ways to do any of those things if they actually helped the people they claim they are trying to.  But they don’t.  The problem is not that people lack shoes or shirts, the problem is that they can’t afford to buy them.  Giving them away for free doesn’t help alleviate that problem, it actually compounds it.  The people who make, repair and/or sell shoes and clothing are put out of business and more people are put into poverty.   

Other problems can stem from the restrictions put on aid, especially when aid is used as a foreign policy tool. I met with people at one NGO, which receives funding from USAID.  I asked about how they defined their target area, their metrics of success, their criteria for including people in their programs received the same answer: USAID determines those.  By accepting support from USAID, this NGO had lost all ability to adapt and respond to what they actually saw on the ground.  I know of several other NGOs who refuse to accept funding from USAID because of that.

Food aid, in particular, can be a disaster.  There are many times where food aid is essential, and where food aid saves lives.  But Haiti is not the only place where it is disruptive.  The problem isn’t that people don’t have food.  The problem is that people aren’t able to buy or grow food. Dumping rice grown in the US may help US farmers, and may help to fill in critical gaps, but when not carefully managed, it creates enduring cycles of dependency by eliminating the local market. 

Many NGOs are getting better at this.  CWS Africa is one—a common theme across all of our programs is a goal for community self sufficiency, and substantial energy is dedicated to training community members so that there will come a time where the community will graduate and no longer need any aid.

Now for my doubts.

I am very uncomfortable with the pan-Africanism inherent to both this site and those it satirizes.  Africa is an enormous continent with vast diversity in culture, religion, geography, climate, language, topography, economy and political system.  Even subtracting North Africa, because I suspect that for many this pan-Africanism is focused on Sub-Saharan Africa, this diversity holds. 

Yes, these countries in Africa face many common problems, but those problems are not unique to Africa—they are global problems that exist, in greater or lessor degrees in every country on this planet, including Norway and the US.  By ignoring the distinctions and differences between countries, regions, and ethnic groups within Africa, the differences in their experience is dismissed. By emphasizing distinctions between Africa and the rest of the world, this video sustains the fiction that these are uniquely African problems.  It might have minimized this by choosing something other than ‘cold’ to focus on, but that might have sacrificed some of the message’s power.

And a finally, some caveats—on the whole, I support the idea behind the video and website, but it raises some things with which I am uncomfortable with and still working through.  I also recognize that there are a great many people who are far smarter than me who support Pan-Africanism.  I’m not seeking to attack either, merely to state my concerns, and, hopefully, begin some discussion.  This post is more about my trying to articulate some thoughts that likely represent the current stage of a process.  I don’t know where that process will go, but I invite anyone to help guide me through that process in the comments below.

Further, I want to emphasize that this post, and, in fact, pretty much everything on this blog, is reflective only of my personal thoughts, and does not represent the position of Church World Service, CWS Africa, Union Presbyterian Seminary, PC(USA), the YAV Program, or any other group or organization with which I may be affiliated.

Laundry

Laundry has involved many things during my life.  When I was little, dirty laundry went into the hamper at the bottom of the hall closet, and periodically, Mom-omagically, the hamper would move out of the closet with clean, dry, ironed, folded clothes which I would (grudgingly) put away. As I grew older, various steps of the process became de-mystified.  I came to be asked to carry the laundry down-stairs, and then, a while later, I would be asked to carry the Mom-omagically clean, ironed and folded laundry back upstairs, where I would (sometimes) put it away (grudgingly).At some point, I began “do” my laundry myself.  Of course, doing laundry really just meant adjusting settings on the washing machine (Cold-Cold, Normal Agitation), waiting a while, then moving things over to the dryer, setting the timer, and again, waiting. Then I would (sometimes) fold it, carry it upstairs, and (maybe), put it away (grudgingly).

After I moved across town for college, the steps were basically the same, except there were more or fewer stairs (generally more), and the machines often cost money—either from my Cavalier Advantage Card (kept topped up by my parents), or, later, stacks upon stacks of quarters (one of the advantages of working as a waiter was constant access to change).  Sometimes (often) I wouldn’t feel like paying the fee for the machine, so I would drive across town (a MAJOR advantage of going to college in the same town one grew up in is access to free laundry…another is access to free food, often in the same trip) and go back to the same machine, where, mindful of the Mom-omagic presence, I might actually sort the laundry into whites, lights and darks, and put them into the machine with appropriate temperature settings. Then I’d help myself to food/diet coke/TV while waiting.  I think I might have used the time to study once.

Living in Northern Ireland was the first time when I was at all confronted with the privilege I’d enjoyed.  While my flat in Northern Ireland had no steps (convenient), and I didn’t have to pay for the machine (wonderful), there was no dryer, which I considered a major inconvenience.  As much as we complain about energy costs in the US, they are fantastically low compared with many other places—in Northern Ireland, this makes a dryer a luxury that most chose to forego.  Fortunately, we were able to string up a drying line inside—strung across our living room (it rained so often there was just no point to putting things outside), and left to dry.  Sometimes, in order to speed the drying process, my flat-mate and I would make creative use of space-heaters, seal off the living room, and turn it into a sauna in order to dry things faster.  We were also exceedingly fortunate in that my flat-mate knew a very accommodating person who WAS in possession of a dryer, and, being a mother, was kind enough to periodically collect our sheets, wash them, dry them, and, Mom-omagically return them to us the same day.

In Kenya, I do laundry myself, by hand.  In buckets.  In the bathtub.  It’s a time and labor intensive process which begins with a one hour soak recommended by the directions on the packet of Sunshine (yes, really).  Then I begin the process of actually washing the clothes—a combination of just reaching in there and working everything around, and then pulling things out and going over them with a scrub brush to get some of the more persistent stains out.  Once this is done, I dump the buckets, try to squeeze out as much of the soapy water as I can, and fill the buckets again to rinse.  I usually have to repeat this at least twice, and even then I’m pretty sure there is still a lot of soap left.

Now, I have to get the clothes to dry.  I squeeze as much of the water out as I can, and take most things out to the lines behind the building (I can fit a few things on a line on my porch, and a few things in the closet with the water heater).  My experience in drying clothes washed by hand so far is pretty much the same as line-drying anything, but I have been AMAZED at how much water the spin cycle on a washing machine gets out.  As it is, even after squeezing out as much as I can, I still usually have to leave clothes out overnight, and often into the afternoon of the next day.  That is, of course, assuming that it doesn’t rain—we are currently in the middle of the ‘short rains’ where it rains somewhat unpredictably for short bursts (a few minutes to a few hours).  I try not to be too upset about the rain—after all, it’s probably getting more of the soap out (I am convinced I will NEVER get it all).  Once the clothes are dry, or at least mostly so, I bring them in, and proceed to iron everything to kill of anything that may have taken residence in the clothes while they were drying.  I think Nairobi is not a particularly high risk area for the insect I’m concerned about, but I’m not taking chances.

In all honesty though, doing laundry is still not that difficult for me. I am vastly more involved in the process than I’ve ever been before, true, but it’s much less involved for me than for many others.  I am not going to pretend that this means I understand poverty, or have even experienced hardship.  I’m not competing for space by a river. I’m not walking miles for water. I don’t have to go to the bottom of a deep well.  I’m not worrying that using this water for laundry means I won’t have enough to drink or cook with.  I have clear, running water in my flat—water that, with a very little bit of extra effort I can even drink.  Doing laundry takes time, yes, but I’m able to use that time for prayer and reflection, to listen to music or an NPR podcast (Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, With Good Reason or Backstory). And, in the end, I know, that even as miniscule a hardship this is, it’s temporary.  Next fall I’ll be back in the U.S., back to using a washing machine and yes, almost certainly even dryer.  And, in all likelihood, when I remember my time here, laundry won’t be something I’ll often think about. 

Hopefully though, I will remember that no matter how difficult something seems to me, I have it easy.

SSZ St. Michael's Gikandu Primary School October 2012

The video below is my one of my first projects, and developed from a recent visit to several School Safe Zones project school in the Murang'a district, about 90 minutes from Nairobi.  These students recently placed fourth in a national dance competition (out of 2,400) schools.




My first published project is available here

Finding a New Church Home

The pavilion tents tower above me and stretches into the distance. There are still fifteen minutes until the service starts, but already the parking lot is filling and people are streaming through the gates past two security guards. My host father and sisters break off to the left toward the Sunday School tent. My host mother and I continue towards the massive tent in front of us; she carries her infant son while I carry her bag. We pass by two smaller tents, one serves as a creche, the other is a welcome tent for first and second time visitors. Entering the main pavilion, I realize that, amazingly, it actually seems larger from the inside. In the front is a massive dais set up for a band. Speakers and lights hang from the pavilions support pillars, and above the dais is a substantial screen. We sit near the center, and I can see two camera operators in front of me, one to each side.

Upbeat and uplifting music begins to play from the speakers as the screen comes to life. A variety of names for God appear on the screen, each one disappearing into the background to make room for the next. God. Father. Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer and myriad others. This transitions into a request to get involved and "join the revival."  The video cross fades to close ups of the praise band as they take the dais and begin to play. Worship leaders dance their way up and begin to lead the congregation in song.

Several songs later, the congregation settles down as a pastor and worship assistant take over. This is no North Atlantic, formal service. The two people now leading worship do not merely take turns reading prayers or from scripture, but engage in a dialogue with each other, and periodically pause to encourage the congregation to turn and discuss things with each other. They joke and laugh, but through it all, they guide the congregation toward deeper understanding of God. This is worship at Nairobi Chapel. Intermixed with the dialogue are videos and a rousing introduction of three representatives from the recently completed "Plug In" class--as best I can tell, a sort of new member course. These three each share 10 verses they have memorized. One even memorized her verses in Kiswahili, although English is the primary language of worship.

Later, the entire class, which includes members of several different churches come forward and together lead the congregation in several songs. They are all dressed in red and black, and collectively are quite striking. We learn that a new class is starting shortly, and new members are encouraged to sign up.The service concludes with the sermon. In all, the service has lasted about 2 hours, but owing to the vibrancy has felt quite a bit shorter.

Following the service, I step into their Karibu tent, where first time visitors are served tea and light snacks around several tables. Each table has one church member to answer questions and to seek to make the visitors feel welcome. There is another space set aside for second-time visitors. We introduce ourselves around our table, but I struggle to hear most of the names. We chat for a bit, and are encouraged to come again, and to look into the Plug-In class--we could even begin next week with the new class. A few minutes later we take our leave, and I go to find my host family.

That was my first worship experience in Nairobi, and the beginning of my first hunt for a Church home. I grew up and went to University in the same town, and so kept going to the same Church. When I served in Northern Ireland, I was working in a church, so that was also my church home. In Richmond, I consider the Seminary my church home. Thus far, every place I have lived has had a community ready built for me. This has led to my really having to think about my church community for the first time. Fortunately, this is generally true of YAVs in Kenya, so our month of orientation included visits to several different churches in order that we may get a sense of what the spectrum is.

On my second week, several of us went to one of Nairobi Chapel's daughter churches, called Mavuno (which means 'harvest' in Kiswahili), with one of last years YAVs who had not yet returned to the States. Mavuno looks and feels very much like it's parent, Nairobi Chapel--very youth focused, very vibrant, and a similar dialogue based approach to conducting the service. It is slightly smaller, but still quite large, and is also under a pavilion. Nairobi Chapel was in the middle of a sermon series on leadership, Mavuno has been focusing on Kenya. Both sermons were very outspoken and neither shied away from addressing political issues or challenging, sometimes quite directly, the members of the congregation.

On our third Sunday, we went to Loresho Presbyterian Church, a PCEA congregation which was an interesting blend, combining aspects of the style of worship represented by Nairobi Chapel and Mavuno with some more North Atlantic elements. The sermon here was less focused on politics and current events, and while there were some theological points and emphases with which I disagree, it was underpinned by some excellent work with the Hebrew of one of the Old Testament passages.

Our fourth weekend was spent in the countryside, where we stayed in the village home of one of Phyllis' co-workers (you can see photos in my last post) who also oversees several congregations in the African Independent Pentecostal Church of Africa. On that Sunday, we went with him to one of those churches. On this particular Sunday, one congregation was hosting several others, because immediately following the service was a fundraiser to buy transportation for the pastor. This service was almost entirely in Kikuyu, one of Kenya's tribal languages, and so while it was aesthetically interesting, I can't really comment on the service because I don't really know what was going on.
On our fifth Sunday, three of us went to hear our site coordinator preach (the Tanzania ladies, who had already left for their placements were very disappointed to miss that, and are going to be upset with me for not talking about it at greater length here) at Christ Church, an Anglican Church of Kenya congregation which is just around the corner from my flat. The service is much like the worship at Loresho, with the addition of the frequent references to a prayer book which seems common in Anglican churches.

I am still searching, still trying to decide what factors are important to me, and how to weigh them, but for now Christ Church is looking pretty good.

Weekend near Mt. Kenya

The past several weeks have been nuts.  This has meant little time to write, and less time to get online, but I've got several posts in the works about some of the things we've been doing, and I should start at my placement next week--I'm hoping that will mean a more stable schedule in the near future.  In the mean time, here are some pictures from this past weekend.

Mt. Kenya, in the distance

Zoomed in on Mt. Kenya

The dog sleeping outside the kitchen.

Coffee.

Red Coffee

Behind me is a natural lime-spring, with human-consumable mineral water. It was tasty.

The group descending down to our first waterfall of the day.

Foliage and a waterfall.

Yeah, I'm cheesy.

The second waterfall.

The fire for heating our bath-water.

Sunset

Sunset

Catherine and Nicole with the Javocado (Giant-Avocado)

Gina and rice fields.

A Saturday in Mathare

 “The guillotine is the concretion of the law; it is called vindicte; it is not neutral and does not permit you to remain neutral.”

     -Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

Pulling into the parking lot, my eyes are irresistibly drawn to the bright light of the blow torch.  My sunglasses do little to protect my eyes, but despite the pain and my best efforts, each new burst brings fresh temptation to look right into the flame that forms the burning heart of this outdoor metal shop where craftsmen make decorative bars for windows and other pieces of useful, industrial art.

Past the metal shop is a concrete block of a building, some three stories tall, with several shops lining the ground level advertising mobile telephone airtime, produce, and Coca-Cola.  To my left is a butcher shop, a leg of beef hanging in the window.  We park and proceed into an unlit hallway between two of the shops, stepping over puddles created by water flow.  Later, when we leave, I see people washing dishes with this water, using one of the larger pools as a basin, filling the others with soapy foam as the dirty water flows away.

We turn left and emerge into a dim room, where goat is being cooked over one of the small charcoal grills so common here.  To my right is a large door open to the outside.  Exchanging greetings and handshakes with the many people in the room, we make our way through the room toward the door.

Now on the other side of the concrete building, we hop down to the packed dirt street—the building is apparently built into a slight hill.  In front of me are two double lines of children, holding plates and spoons.  At the head of each line, adults serve them a creamy looking soup with beans and some of the already cooked goat meat.  At the back, the line bends to avoid a large pile of rocks.  I climb up it just enough to peer over.  The other side runs steeply downhill into the Mathare Valley, filled with a sea of corrugated metal roofs.

For a while, I stand, nearly frozen, trying to take it all in. Eventually, I am interrupted by a small child in a yellow shirt, perhaps about four years old.  He comes up and takes hold of my leg, looking up and smiling.  I smile back and ask him his name, but get no response—it seems he speaks about as much English as I do Kiswahili.  After a while, he points at my sunglasses, now hanging from my shirt.  I kneel down and put them on him.  He smiles wider; my host father notices and snaps a quick picture. 

Within moments, the other children also notice.  They come over, each wanting a turn with the glasses.  Each child who puts them on is greeted by smiles and a chorus of “Mizungu!” (white-person).  Soon, however, they press a bit too tightly and begin to fight over the glasses.  Reluctantly I stand and extract them from the crowd.  Music has started, and the children quickly disperse and begin to dance.  My yellow-shirted friend looks at me, betrayed.

I look away, toward the source of the music and see that speakers and an amp have emerged from the room.  Painted around the door is a brightly colored mural showcasing the vibrancy of the community.  At the top, framed by two arms holding hands, is the name of the organization we are visiting: “Inspiration Ministry.”

One of the leaders of Inspiration Ministry has recently been married, and today is celebrating his wedding with the children he serves.  I get the chance to speak to him a bit and discover that he grew up in this neighborhood, and was one of few to have the opportunity to attend school and university.  Now he leads this organization, ministering specifically to the children who are ignored by many of the other churches in the settlement, seeking to give them hope for a future unrestricted by the hard conditions of their upbringing. He tells me that many of the children there are being raised by single mothers, so he provides child care and a free lunch so their mothers can go to work. He tells me that many of the families survive on less than a dollar a day. 

I wonder if they know the glasses I briefly let them play with could feed them for a month.

From the Plane

What's below was originally written on the flight in to Nairobi, but I haven't really had the chance to post it until now.  As a teaser, today was also eventful, however I still need some time to process before I post anything about it.  Hopefully more will come soon.

Kenya now lies below me, or at so the least the flight tracker on the screen in front of me says.  I am unable to verify this fact, partly due to my aisle seat, but even standing to give myself a better angle, nothing is distinguishable below.  I see neither lights nor roads, and given the darkness, have no way of knowing if this is simply because there isn’t anything to see, or if cloud cover obscures my view.

I desperately want to see something.  Anything to prove to myself that after four years it is really Kenya which lies below, that we are in fact only about 40 minutes from landing in Nairobi.  Alas, my field of view is too limited.  I am tempted to ask the amiable Danish couple sitting to my left, but then the map displays again, and it looks like we are over a large lake, whose name, to my chagrin, is unknown to me. It appears to be part of the greater rift valley—a long and comparatively narrow body of water running roughly North-North-West.

 

I find myself for the first time really wishing that our original flight plans had held—not to say that we had any choice, and certainly it seemed a blessing at the time—one fewer layover in exchange for only an extra two hours of total travel time.  Alas, I did not think about the setting of the sun, nor do I think anyone else much considered the idea. 

I have been struggling to maintain consciousness throughout this flight, but have been doing my best to force myself through so that I might wake tomorrow largely synchronized to Nairobi time—we should be landing at around 8:10 PM, so hopefully there will be no plans for the night, and I can just concentrate on hanging on for a few more hours, though at this moment I am not sure how I will do so; caffeine seems to have lost its effectiveness for the moment, but at least I was able to make it through The Hunger Games—both the first book at the movie.

Yes, I know, I am WAY behind.

Regardless, I suppose that begins both the book and movie list for the year.  Hopefully no more than one of those lists will get too much more serious.

Arrival

We are here, all is well.  More info to follow once I'm not limited to an internet cafe.

Travels and Travails

Van from Stony Point

Orientation is over and we are now really on our way to Nairobi.  We had a delightful and crises van ride to the airport, where we arrived at the wrong terminal, but we made it to the correct terminal and through security just in time...to discover our flight had been cancelled.

Thanks to the efforts of two very patient United Agents, the five of us were succesfully re-booked and re-routed.  No longer would we be flying through both Montreal and Zurich, now we were to bravely depart to Amsterdam.  This had the immediate positive effect of reducing the number of layovers we would have to 1.  It also meant that we got to hang out in the Newark Airport for 5 hours.  On the whole this was no enourmous loss; the extra airport time allowed us time to share one final American meal at an airport diner, and to engage some acts of self-care.

Kenya YAVs in Schipol.

We have now arrived in Amsterdam and are awaiting our next and final flight which will take us the rest of the way to Nairobi and will only arrive 2 hours later than expected.  On the whole, I think it's a fair trade.

Orientation

Yesterday I said many goodbyes.

Today I was blessed by my home church.

In about 12 hours I will board the first of the six flights which will eventually deposit me in Nairobi, and will head to Stony Point for a week of orientation prior to my arrival in Nairobi on the 28th.

Slowly this is becoming real.  This summer has presented incredible opportunities for me to avoid thinking about going.  I spent three weeks travelling the Mid-East in May. In June I watched my youngest nephew graduate from pre-school, and visited friends in three states.  July sent me to Texas for a wedding, and this month I spent a week at the beach with my family, visited both my grandmothers, and went to an amazing concert.

I have also had meetings with various people at Union and the Presbytery in preparation for my departure, but those were small events in comparison to all the things I have had to distract me.

This is something I have felt called to do for longer than I can remember, and something that I have been concretely working toward and planning for since 2008. My first attempt was redirected to Northern Ireland, and that was a powerful training ground and opportunity to grow a bit more.  Northern Ireland is where I finally acceded to God's call for me to attend seminary, and my experiences there opened many doors to me.

I fully expect that working in Nairobi will challenge and change me, and that I will ultimately be stronger for it.  Stronger because I will be rebuilt of stronger substance.

I am simultaneously desperately seeking one last distraction, and giddy about the upcoming journey.  Frightened of losing what I leave behind and giddy about what I may gain.

Time to finish packing.

Photo taken at John Calvin Presbyterian Church
in San Antonio Texas

Thanks so much!

Great thanks to everyone who has contributed so far.  As of July 17th, I have not only blown past the initial $2,500 deadline, but have completed my fundraising requirement entirely.  This is great news, and takes a great deal of concern off my back.  If any of you reading this are still interested in giving, please know that any donations beyond my goal will stay in the YAV program.  The $8,000 is only a small part of the total cost of supporting a YAV.

In only somewhat related YAV news, I recently returned from the wedding of on of the other YAVs from my year in Northern Ireland.  It was a great chance to get to see most of that group again, and although we were missing 3 of our 9, an unexpected layover (read: getting stuck) in Atlanta on the way home meant that I got to visit with one of those 3, and I see the other two regularly.  The picture to the left features 5 of the 6 Belfast YAVs, including the groom in the chest plate next to his new wife.

Yeah, we had fun with the photo booth.

Announcement

I just found out that I will be serving as a Communication Officer for Church World Service in Nairobi.  You can follow the link for details, but in short, they run several programs, including ones focusing on access to water/sanitation, education, food security and women's empowerment.  My job will largely entail writing about these programs for the organization's website and other media.

Today, May 5th 2012, is my grandfather's 93rd birthday.  Or would have been.  I'm honestly not sure which tense to use.  He died a few weeks ago, on April 23rd.  It was sudden, but peaceful and merciful.  The Petersburg paper ran a lovely news article. The funeral was last Friday, the 27th, and there was a memorial at his retirement community Saturday the 28th for those who could not come Friday.  My cousin Jay spoke on behalf of my cousins at the funeral, and I spoke Saturday.  Below is the draft text of what I said.  

It has been said that good writers borrow from other writers, while great writers steal outright. My oldest cousin, Jay, spoke yesterday, and while I will not steal everything he said, I do wish to share one piece from his remarks.   

A few days ago, Jay asked each of the grandchildren to send him one word to describe our grandfather.   Those words were: love, sweet, wise, faith, distinguished, teacher and model.  While all of these words are apt descriptions of the man, they are, of course, incomplete descriptions of our feelings.  While I understand and agree with each of the words used, I want to take this time to violate Jay’s directive to limit ourselves to one word and speak some to my choice.

          A few years ago, I realized that like my grandfather, I was called to enter the ministry.  I began by spending a year working in Northern Ireland, and while there, applied to several seminaries, including his own Union, just up the road in Richmond.  Because I was abroad at the time, I did not do any traditional campus visits, but ultimately decided to come here, to what is now Union Presbyterian Seminary.  In August of 2010, my father and I came here to pick granddad up to go walk around campus.  The seminary had been informed of our visit, and was kind enough to arrange a current student to meet us and show us around.  Much of the campus had changed in the 62 year interval since he had graduated, but many elements remained the same, and he and my father remembered many places from when granddad was a student and my father a young child, including even the pew where they often sat during chapel services.  I am incredibly grateful that my first introduction to campus occurred that day, with him.  Dad, I’m glad you were there too.  

          One question sometimes asked of prospective ministers is who or what their model for ministry is.  My grandfather, who I grew up calling Bubba (which I think may have caused some irritation to others, but never to him) is both the most exceptional and daunting model I could have.  I always knew that he set a high bar.  The stories I have heard over the past few days, featuring his abundance of courage, kindness, humility, and patience have only served to raise that bar further.  I was never under the illusion that I could fully measure to the standard he set, I only hope that his memory will serve to ensure that I always strive emulate his courage, kindness and patience, while also reminding me of the need to remain ever humble.

Candidacy, Fellowship, and Ministries

We are coming up on the end of the semester, which of course means I've been phenomenally busy, but I do feel that I've accomplished a great deal.  Last night, I was endorsed by the session at Westminster for Candidacy.  In a few weeks I will meet with the Committee on Preparation for Ministry, if they also endorse me, then I will go before the next Presbytery meeting in June.  For those of you who aren't Presbyterian, or don't pay attention to polity, essentially what this means is that, if all goes well, I will be a step closer to being able to start looking for a call when I graduate in 2014.

Saturday was the 8th Annual Ultimate Frisbee Tournament at UPSem, and was a great time.  Both Union teams went 3-0 in the initial, Round-Robin phase, which included, for my team, a very exciting sudden-death win over one of Princeton's teams.  Unfortunately we then lost to Princeton's other team in the show-case round, but the other Union team pulled out a win over Southern Lutheran in the other showcase game.  It was a great weekend of frisbee and fellowship, and is something I will be sad to miss next year.

Earlier in the week, the Urban Ministry Committee hosted their 3rd Forum/Fair.  We brought in several wonderful ministries from around Richmond, including Boaz and Ruth, the Micah Initiative, and a great ministry in Washington D.C., called Christ House.  All are exciting ministries here in the U.S., and the event served as a valuable reminder for me that while it can be much easier to see need elsewhere, there is a great deal here in the U.S. as well, and as excellent as these ministries are, there are a great many people who are not being served.  I hope to be able to volunteer with one of these groups when I return from Africa next year.

On the note of serving God and people's needs in the U.S., the YAV program has several sites within the U.S. which are engaged in a wide variety of ministries, and the application deadline has been extended until May 25th.  If any of you are seeking direction for the next year, or know of someone who is, I urge you (or them) to look into national service through YAV.  The application and more information can be found here.

Ends, Beginnings, and Transition

Three years ago, a few months before graduating college, I first attended the Placement Event for the PC(USA) Young Adult Volunteer (aka YAV) placement event. I went hoping to serve in Kenya. I left very excited to serve in Northern Ireland. I spent a wonderful, enlightening and very formative year serving in Northern Ireland, that can be read about in the archives of this blog. The experience pushed me to grow as a Christian and as a person, and confirmed my sense of call to continue to serve God through the Church.

I returned to the US exhausted, stunned by the heat and humidity of a Virginia summer. I rested for a few weeks, and started seminary. Through all of this, I continued to feel called to East Africa. I began poking around, looking to see if I could go to East Africa as part of an internship. I discovered that yes, in fact, I could--and the Supervised Ministry staff here has been and continues to be wonderfully helpful and supportive. I explored a few options toward actually getting myself to Kenya, and eventually realized that the YAV program would be the best option.

Thus, last week, I again attended the Placement Event, triggering a great deal of déjà vu, and a flood of mixed emotions as I began to really think about what it would mean for this dream to become real, and entertained serious doubts about whether or not it would happen.  It did.  I was placed in the Kenya site, and will be departing in August. All that remains between me and going is a pile of paperwork, sorting out a few final details about the internship side of it, and time.

I am incredibly excited about going. In many ways, being placed there marks the culmination of 3 years of work and dreams. In many more ways, it marks a new beginning, a new chapter in my story. And, of course, launches me into a period of transition. Transition from being a YAV alum back to being a YAV; from classroom based education to field education; from dreaming to living; and from being just a few hours drive from most of those I love to being across an ocean and a continent.

All transitions carry with them both the pain of loss and the joy of opportunity. This is no different. Over the next few months I will be filled with joy, overflowing with sadness, and overcome with awe at the majesty of God, who has carried me so far, and will carry me still further. I will try to share much of that here, but some I will have to keep back, some I will forget to put up, and some I will be too busy to find the time for. I welcome you all to share the journey with me, and invite you to use the comment section to more fully participate.

Grace and Peace to you all.