Day 25: Part I: The Beginning of the Worst Day Ever

Pictures from our (completely useless) tour

This is a story of one of my worst days in Kenya. Here goes.

This Tuesday started off like most Tuesdays. Dylan and I got up to go to school and we were going about the normal school day when we were told at recess that a teacher wanted to see us. She told us that she wanted to show us around Weru. So she brought us to her son and soon, we were taking a tour around the area. I thought this would be a short 20-30 minute tour and that we would return to school to teach our kids. But the whole affairs drags on to become a freaking 2.5 hour tour. For pretty much the entire tour, I was walking silently stewing in my anger, because Dylan and I were being dragged around pointlessly and I just really wanted to hang out with my class 1 kids. So I'm not going to lie: I was definitely angry to the point of sin.

So after wasting our whole morning, the teacher's son eventually brings us back to school. I'm thinking: "Yes! We can still teach P.E." Instead, the teacher then tells us that she's going to take us to her house to have tea. So we embark on yet another pointless journey to her house. By now, Dylan and I are both pretty upset, but I'm definitely about to spit venom at somebody. She sits us down and pours us chai and serves us arrow root to eat. First off, the teacher somehow forgets to give us sugar and so our chai tastes terrible. Secondly, both Dylan and I don't like arrow root very much (that's an understatement, Dylan hates that stuff). During this time, the teacher gets up to do stuff in another room. So as I'm slowly chewing on my arrow root, one of us (I honestly can't remember which one of us) gets the brilliant idea to throw the food out the open door. So I'm sitting near the door so I chuck mine out in rebellious anger over the injustices which I had endured all morning. Then Dylan winds up his arm and throws his root with a lot of strength. Only, he has a terrible angle and misses; his root hits the door with a loud "thump." We both start laughing as I rush to kick the crumbs out the door, and I deftly slip back into my couch as the teacher walks back in. We're both trying super hard not to laugh; the teacher notices our expressions (honestly, how could she not?) and asks us what's going on. We politely say that we were exchanging funny stories.

By this time, I just want to go home but the teacher decides to bring us on yet another tour to a nearby view of the local river. So we go...again. School had ended by then and so when the stupid tour is done with, Dylan and I go home. We realized that there were educational inspectors from Nairobi at the school and so maybe the school administrators wanted us gone for the day. We continued to hypothesize but by this time, I'm starting to feel guilty about being so angry. So we finally arrive home. But this morning's events were only the beginning of a day that was about to get even worse...

Day 24: Who's Blessing Whom?

Visiting Javin's shamba (he's the one on the far right)
From left to right: Me, Edith, and Betty as we're on our way to Javin's shamba

There have been very few tragedies in my life. For all 21 years of my life so far, nothing has really hindered me from focusing on accomplishing my goals, fulfilling my own desires, and watching out for number one. I've totally forgotten to love God and others-if I ever even knew how to at all. But in Kenya, people's lives are filled with poverty, sadness, and heartbreak. They never really get the chance to focus on bettering their own situations-it's just waking up everyday and surviving. It is seriously by God's grace that I can minister at all to these people whose eyes are filled with tiredness and the realization that they will never not be tired.

Today, Dylan and I made several house visits with Edith since Pastor Mwiti would be gone for a few days. Dylan and I taught at Motiguru in the morning and then we went around and about visiting church members, listening to their stories, and praying for them. I often felt like a fool as I tried to offer encouragement or words from the Bible to people who go through more crap in a year than I do in 21 years. These people include:

1) The kids I teach at school. A few of them got whacked today for not bringing materials to school. They will probably never get a decent education. i'm guessing most will end up working in their own shambas around the Weru area. They're good kids; it's just that the opportunities are just not there.

2) Margaret. Her family has been afflicted by so many injuries, sickness, and struggles. What can a foolish American college student possibly say to her amidst her trials? I really hope that God comes through for her and her family, because a lesser person would have given up already. May her faith be rewarded.

3) Church members like Betty, Javin, and Edith. They're people who have nothing better to do on Mondays than to fellowship and pray for another, and you know what? There is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

As much as Dylan and I hoped that what we did and said to these people somehow touched them, we know in our hearts that we are the ones who have been touched by their faith and humanity. Humanity is not sitting in a room doing random crap on a computer; it's what people like Kenyans do as they struggle to find joy and happiness (and they do) amidst their terrible conditions and difficult lives.

Day 23: Lukewarm

This Sunday was special in many ways.

Firstly, we had visitors! Pastor Karau and his wife came for the 2nd consecutive Sunday, and this time, they brought two American guests: Colleen and her mother, Kay. Colleen is definitely a special woman; she not only helped the Karaus and Lees start Sanctuary of Hope, but Kenya is so close to heart that she also adopted 2 Kenyan children as well. It's always really powerful to see people whose convictions run so deep that they are willing to let God change their lives. In Colleen's case, she had such a heart for Kenyan orphans that she took two home with her (legally of course).

Secondly, today was the first time Dylan and I officially preached at Weru Worship Centre. During the main service, Dylan gave a 50 minute sermon about lukewarmness and spiritual richness to a crowd of about 200. Later on at the night service, I spoke (not for 50 minutes haha) on 1 Samuel 1 and prayer. Neither Dylan nor I are preachers are at all, but we were so thankful that God always seemed to give us the words to speak. Whether sharing a word with a family or preaching in front of people, God really used us as His mouthpieces. We don't pretend that we knew what we were doing or saying a lot of the times, but as long as we were saying what God wanted us to say, it was cool.

In the afternoon, Pastor Mwiti left with the Karaus, Colleen, and Kay to go back to Nairobi, leaving us in the sure hands of the core church members. By now, Dylan and I really appreciated the Edith, Muredi, Javin, Betty, Mary, Salame, Telewanja, Janice, Dixon, and Patrick. They never hesitated to serve and they really set an example for the rest of the community.

Anyway, Dylan's sermon centered on lukewarmness and how God would rather us be either hot or cold. I had never really considered myself as a lukewarm Christian (I mean, who does?), but honestly, is there a better word to describe the majority of the American church? Whenever I'm living selfishly for myself, not caring about others, not living missionally, being apathetic, I'm being lukewarm and God wants to spit me out. That's one of the reasons why Kenya was such a powerful experience: in a way, I was forced to stop being a lukewarm, complacent Christian. All of sudden, I had to stop being the typical, uncaring, selfish Christian and instead, I had to become a follower of Jesus who loves God and others more than myself.

I suspect that's why my first week in Kenya was so hard. The transition from being lukewarm to being on fire for God and the things He cares about is not a simple change of heart. It's an ongoing process that requires being broken and humbled, crying out to God, taking the things I "know"about God in my head and transforming that head knowledge into true passionate convictions, and repeating the process over and over again.

Day 22: Community-Honestly, What the Heck is It?

Our host grandmother Doris (far right) and some neighborhood kids

Community. It's one of the watchwords of most Christian groups. We talk about it all the time in InterVarsity; we say things like "building community", "let's be a true community that...", "God-centered community", etc. Having been a part of IV for 3+ years, I thought I had community too. That is, until I went to Kenya and discovered something completely different.

You see, in America, people (both Christians and non-Christians) define their communities as people who they don't completely hate, can get along reasonably well with, laugh at their jokes, and have fun with. Throw in the occasional "deep" conversation (and by that I mean "let's talk about our problems" or "who do you think is cute" or "dang this person freaking annoys me") and you've got yourself 100%, certified grade A "community."

On this particular Saturday, Dylan and I witnessed a lot of true community. Like the previous Saturday, we joined some members in cleaning the church and by cleaning the church, I mean Dylan and I watched as everybody there (including the children) outcleaned and outworked us. Later on in the afternoon, some of the neighborhood kids came over and Dylan and I obliged them by chasing and running around with them. We couldn't help but smile as the kids laughed and screamed as we ran after them, picked them up, and tickled them. Later on, we joined the choir members for another time of practice and prayer.

You see, in Kenya, all they have is each other. In America, we all go through our days, doing our own thing, and when we a) get bored, b) become lonely, or c) just can't stand the loudness of silence, we go to whatever we deem community. But in Kenya and probably many other third world countries, community is a necessity, not a luxury. Neighbors stop by all the time to say hi, help prepare a meal, and talk over a cup of chai. Church members wake up early, clean the church, and then come back later to practice with the choir. Shame on you if you don't know everyone's name within a mile radius. People will not only share in your happiness and joy, but also in your suffering and trials. And what's the point in getting things done and being productive when you could just hang out and talk with a neighbor?

Kenyans don't have computers, TVs, iPods, and all this other crap to distract them from what really matters: loving God and loving those around you. I would argue that they are so much more real with one another than we Americans are with other, because in the end, they're willing to go out on limb for each other. Community is a thing of convenience in America; something to be ignored or disregarded when the going gets tough. Community is a thing of necessity in Kenya and other impoverished countries; something to be treasured because honestly, what else do you have?

I'm guilty when it comes to being a true friend and brother in Christ to those around me. I fall short in so many ways. But I've seen what it looks like when people truly, sincerely love one another and sacrifice for someone else's sake, and I won't settle for fake community or superficial friendships. For our own sakes, none of us should.

Day 21: Thirty Shillings per Kilo

Chai plants

Looking across a valley

Dylan and I spent the morning harvesting chai leaves with Edith, one of the core church members and leader of the choir. Families in Weru often plant their chai plants on the slopes of their shambas because they are pretty much the only crop which grows effectively on the sides of the hills and valleys. The three of us spent a good three hours walking along the rows of chai plants picking out mature (but not too mature) leaves. It was sort of fun to harvest the leaves and hang out with Edith (who banters a lot of Dylan), but eventually, it did get tiring and neither Dylan nor I were even the ones carrying the basket full of chai leaves on their backs. Later, we asked Edith how much she would be able to sell the leaves we collected for. She told us that a kilo goes for about 30 shillings and we had harvested about 5 kilos. So if we do the math: we would have earned about 150 shillings and we if convert to dollars (1 dollar to 80 shillings) then the three of us earned about $2 for 3 hours of work.

For me and Dylan, harvesting coffee beans and chai leaves gave us something to do during our downtime but for Kenyans like Edith, this was their life-they can't just decide that they don't feel like harvesting their crops and mess around instead. And all that work for what? A couple of dollars at most. Even the minimum wage in American is $8/hour (~640 shillings). What Edith and her family wouldn't do to make that sort of money in one hour.

Later on, Pastor, Dylan, and I were walking home after making a house visit to a family. During our journey, we met some men who were drinking. One of them decided to follow us after we had said goodbye to the rest of the group. Maybe the dude was drunk or maybe had some sort of problem, because he definitely acted a little strangely. All I remember thinking was how I wanted the man to go away and leave us alone. The man walked with us for a good 15 minutes and during that whole time, I didn't think any kind thoughts at all.

All of sudden, the man stopped walking with us. I can't remember if this occurred before or after he left us, but at one point, I felt God reminding me that He loves that man as much as He loves me. Once again, I was reminded of my inability to love people and my lack of desire to see people meet God. Once again, I was made painfully aware of how incomplete and lacking I am as a disciple of Jesus Christ.

At the end of that day, I asked God for a greater heart to love people with, whether it be my brothers and sisters in Kenya who work so much for so little or some random crazy dude walking with me...and it's still something I pray for today.

Day 20: Redemption-All Day, Everyday

Mpuri Fellowship

This day started off horribly. We woke up super late (which indicates to our family we're lazy bums haha), because Kevin messed up the time on my watch while he was playing with it last night. At breakfast, both Dylan and I were sort of moody and we both eventually admitted we were both redlining. We talked about how we were struggling with not judging Kenyan's super repetitiveness and overbearing emotional displays. It was just a poor start to the day. Generally, when my day starts off bad, it stays bad so I was really not looking forward to the rest of the day. First off we would be attending a prayer meeting at WWC which meant-guess what?-more super long prayers. Then we would be heading off to a fellowship meeting at Mpuri which is a town across the valley. But it's not about how you start the day, it's about how you end it.

I'll admit didn't into the prayer meeting with high expectations. The church members there started speaking in Kiswahili and I thought: "Well, here we go." But then, I realized that I could spend my time in ways I hadn't before. I picked up my Bible and just started reading. During the long prayers, I found myself praying for people back at home. Soon, Pastor Mwiti came around to pick me and Dylan up to leave for Mpuri. A 15 minute motorbike ride later, we arrived at the home of Zephaniah, Pastor Karau's brother-in-law. I looked around wondering where our fellowship meeting would be and found my answer when people started heading into a small barnhouse. Soon enough, the barnhouse was pretty full with singing and praying Kenyan brothers and sisters. After I gave on word on the fruit of the Spirit and Dylan prayed for the people there, we got a change to mingle and hang out with the people there. They were super welcoming and happy to just have American visitors. They kept saying, "Tell our brothers and sisters in America that we say hello and that we love them." So I hereby pass their regards and love to all of you haha.

I couldn't believe that these people were so happy about meeting in a barnhouse. I thought the place was ghetto but my Kenyan brothers and sisters had no qualms about worshiping and communing there. They were so full of life and such vibrant, loving people. Dylan and I were both pretty happy when Pastor told us that we would return next week to Mpuri. Just being around such joyful people really made my day; there was no way I was leaving Mpuri not having felt the love of God through these people.

Soon enough, we were on our way home. Instead of taking a motorbike around the mountains and hills, we would be hiking back home and what a beautiful hike it was. We went down a valley through chai fields, across a bridge overlooking a small creek, and hiked back up the picturesque Weru countryside.

God had really redeemed this day for me and Dylan. Not only is every day a new day, but honestly, every hour is a new hour. We started off feeling really moody and irritable but God really instilled in us a lot of joy and peace having met the people at Mpuri and enjoyed the beauty of His creation.

The challenge is to have the same mindset here in Berkeley or whenever I'm at. No matter how often I become frustrated or angry, I have to remember that God can bring about new lessons and new things to discover in a moment's notice. Redemption is just as real here in the U.S. as it was in Kenya. All day, everyday baby.

Day 19: More than Bricks and Mortar

Something we saw on the way back from Iriga

Dylan and Pastor Mwiti

For this day, I'm going to put down what I wrote down in my journal with some changes and comments here and there. For the most part though (say about 90% haha), this post is pretty much exactly what I wrote on that day:

Today, we walked over hills for an hour to meet Rachel, Pastor Karau's sister-in-law. To me, she demonstrates faithfulness through time. Her husband passed away some time ago and her children have grown up, so it's only her and her helper on the shamba. Yet, she's still so hospitable and motherly. God bless her and I'm glad she wasn't hurt injured more from her motorcycle accident (she was a pretty elderly woman).

When we arrived in Iriga for the fellowship meeting (Iriga is a sister fellowship of Weru Worship Centre), the building was locked but that didn't stop us from having fellowship. Fellowship is with people, not about bricks and mortar. We met behind the building and worshiped, prayed, and shared there. Here in Kenya, it's all about the people. In America (and possibly in Berkeley), it's about the building, the name of the fellowship, the small group, etc. Would that we Christians in America can have that same type of fellowship. There's too much to gain in American fellowships and not enough to lose/sacrifice. Here, people leave their businesses and shops in the middle of the afternoon to meet behind behind what is essentially a nice shack.

Kenya is by no means perfect. There are a lot of flaws here, even in the churches and Christian communities but there's a lot to love too. God, help me take these 7 weeks and let them form an idea of a fellowship that I can work to be a part of next year. It's all about responding-it doesn't mean a thing if I don't take what I experience and let it change me someway and somehow.

Day 18: Stopping and Smelling the Coffee Beans

Transporting our coffee beans to the factory

View from the coffee factory

When I got back from school today, I couldn't help but think about random things like seeing my teammates again, people back at home, etc. We had been in Weru for almost a week and I had developed a routine as I normally do when adjusting to new places. While it was okay for me to get into a rhythm, I realized the last thing I wanted to do was go through the motions. It's so easy for me to go through everyday getting things done and fulfilling my obligations but not really doing anything meaningful if that makes sense. Yes, it's important to check things off my daily schedule but not at the expense of doing things of eternal value. Things as simple as encouraging people, serving others, and talking with God. I was here in Weru for a reason and I did not want to lose these 3 weeks to just "getting things done" and "doing ministry." I wanted to be 110% present and ready to see what God had to show me. I wanted God to show me new things every single day and I told myself I wouldn't leave Weru unless God did so.

In the afternoon, Dylan and I harvested coffee beans with Jack (he helped our host family with their shamba) and another lady. We spent a good while picking the little red beans from trees before packing them up and heading to the coffee factory. Once at the factory, we had to sit and separate the red beans from the darker, maturer ones. This was a day in the life of a Kenyan and something Dylan and I had never done before. While I watch sports, work on problem sets, and hang out, these people have to pick coffee beans and literally live off the land in order to survive. For me, picking coffee beans was a novelty. It was something I could sort of be interested in for an hour before I got bored and then never have to do again. For Jack, this was something he would do probably once a week or something like that.

We had to rush back home because being at the factory had made us late for the weekly Tuesday intercessory prayer meeting. I was sort of glad we were late, because that meant we could skip out on the long, repetitive, emotional prayers (please don't judge me haha). We arrived to hear Pastor speak from the book of Daniel and Konge speak about not being entangled in the sin which so easily does so.

So I haven't really mentioned the three kids in the family very much yet and I definitely should. Their names are Mweti (16), Mercy (12), and Kevin (7) and they're the grandchildren of Doris. They were pretty shy at first but by now, they were pretty chill with me and Dylan. We were always home for dinner and it was always one of my favorite parts of the day. Kevin was especially ridiculous and is the most energetic and fun-loving kid I have honestly ever met. Our family was so chill that we pretty much broke all cultural sensitivity. Due to Dylan's gassiness, some of the nights with our family became farting sessions during which we spent the whole night yelling "Nimemyamba!"

Looking back, living life in Weru was too just too special for me to take for granted. There honestly was so much to see everyday. From the beauty of the mountainous area to doing ministry with Pastor to farting with the family, life was so special and sometimes I just needed to stop, realize where I was, and stop and smell the coffee beans.

Day 17: "Mr. Myron!"

As is very typical of a school day, Dylan and I had to wake up early today to teach at Motiguru Primary School. Dylan would be teaching class 2 (which is how Kenyans label the 2nd grade) and I would be teaching class 1. We arrived for the school's morning assembly, met the headmaster and some other teachers, and then proceeded to our respective classrooms.

Now, I wish I could say that Motiguru is like any elementary school in the U.S., but it's honestly nothing like an American school. The school basically consists of a large field where kids play during recess, one "wing" where most of the classrooms are, the headmaster's "office", and the teachers' lounge. The kids sit on pretty badly put together wooden desks and the floor is just dirt. I meet Mrs. Matambe who is the teacher of my class. As I enter the classroom, the kids all look excited to have a foreigner teach them as Mrs. Matambe introduces me as Mr. Myron. I quickly realize that the kids don't speak very much English and there's no real way that I can teach them. Mrs. Matambe must have come to the same conclusion, because she had me sit at her desk and basically become her teaching aide.

Sitting through class was actually kind of boring but at least I got to play with the kids at recess. The best part of being at Motiguru was leading the kids' P.E. time with Dylan. We basically taught the kids some exercises and played games with them (like Duck-Duck-Goose among other games). Throughout the whole day the kids were pretty distracted by me and Dylan, and seemed to be genuinely excited about having 2 Americans at there school. Being in class was boring but I tried my best to smile at the kids and help them with their work as much as possible.

Later on in the day, we went on another house visit, except this time, we went to home of Konge, who was the church's guest speaker yesterday. On a random note, it was during his message that I fell asleep yesterday. Konge's shamba is pretty legit; not only does he have the typical banana trees, passionfruit plants, cows, etc., but he also rows of chicken coups. I had never seen so many hens/roosters/chicks before. We spent a good 2 hours just hanging out with Konge on his farm before heading back home.

I realized later on just how blessed I am. Realistically, most of the kids I met earlier that day wouldn't go to a university and would probably end up living in Weru for the rest of their lives on farms. Even Konge who has a baller shamba and is probably considered really well off will never have the opportunities that I have. Truly, it takes a trip across the world to see and experience just how much I take for granted. What Kenyan wouldn't gladly trade his/her struggles for my "struggles?" The hardest part of my normal day is doing engineering problem sets, trying to balance schoolwork with hanging out with friends, and trying not to stress out as Kobe gets the ball with 5 seconds left and with the Lakers down my 2 points. Honestly? Really?

Yet, while I have so much and people like Pastor Mwiti, my host family, and the people of Weru in general have little, they have so much more joy than I do. It's become a cliche to say that those who live in poverty have more joy than those who live in abundance, but only because this is a true statement. Kenyans don't have the opportunity or resources to worry about all the crap that I think about, but they know what's important: their family, friends, community, and God. In some weird way, having less means they know their priorities better. In America, there's more stuff and random crap, and so I can prioritize watching a basketball game and checking sports stats over reading my Bible and seeing how my friends are doing. It's upside-down and twisted, but that's just how the world is.