Jambo (hello) from Nairobi, Kenya
It is a true blessing to be here in Kenya and to be thrown into another culture halfway around the world, with different customs, different mindsets, living a different pace of life, and yet worshiping the same God! And it is a blessing to be the minority. Being a mzungu (white) we are targeted, labeled and discriminated, yet loved and accepted by all our christian brothers and sisters. It is common to see stick houses and market place shops with scrap metal walls and dirt floors only meters away from million dollar buildings with electric fences and 24 hour security. This is a place where you can’t trust the police, and the president took leadership by force. Where your car gets searched for bombs every time you park at the mall or market, and you get searched by security before you play frisbee in the school field. This is a place with an abundance of exotic wildlife and 80 degree blue skies. A place where talking with a friend or neighbor is more important than work or ‘being productive’. A place where 20 minutes late is on time. This is a place with the craziest traffic and worst roads I have ever seen. A place where the peaceful soundtrack of wildlife is only a kilometer away from the honking and shouting of the city. This is Kenya, and this is the place that I am quickly learning to love.Jared and I arrived in Nairobi, Kenya Sunday, January 15 at two am. It had been a long journey including 72 hours on a train and 19 hours of travel time by plane. We met our ride at the airport and drove to our new home luggage free, seeing how it was left in Istanbul, Turkey. Proceeding arrival we slept 2 hours before we woke up in time for church. With the eleven hour time difference and very little sleep on the planes and trains, we were running purely on the thrill of a new adventure. Sunday consisted of a gospel church service in a big tent, lunch in the city, a bumpy ride with two little boys in the back of a jeep, ultimate frisbee at the school, dinner and stories with a local family, getting stopped by the police, and finally, sleep. Every night the police set up a check point and stop cars to hassle the people looking for bribes. It was a bit nerve wrecking for me, there were two soldiers with machine guns slung over their shoulder telling us they would take us to court. Then they wanted to see my passport, but I didn’t have it, which looking back I am very thankful because I was told they often times wont return them. But after 10 or 15 minutes of hassling the police and telling them we did nothing wrong, they could tell we weren’t going to give them any money, so they let us go.
We woke up monday to a wonderful breakfast followed by a walk through the farm listening to the birds. There are so many beautiful and unique sounds here. After a really good devotion time Ibrahim (our host / DOVE oversight for all of Africa / member on the anti corruption committee in Kenya) asked us if we would work on the greenhouse roof, we gladly accepted. After seeing the greenhouse I was glad I said that I would help before I actually saw the greenhouse, I may have been hesitant otherwise. The wind had blown the plastic roof to shreds, so it was our job to climb around on the stick structure frame of the greenhouse trying to piece together the roof with tape. Which wasn’t so bad until we had to hang on with one hand, standing on a flimsy wobbly stick 10 feet off the ground stretching as far as we could over the barbed wire netting below (they used barbed wire to string up the peppers) and try to tape 2 pieces of flailing ripped plastic together with one piece of tape. Jet lag made the task a bit more difficult and a lot more dangerous, but after we got our monkey legs we had a blast climbing the greenhouse.
After work we were privileged with a cool shower and another wonderful meal. After dinner is time to rest, so I watched television with our new friend Jesse. Jesse is 23 years old and runs the farm. He told me that most people make around 250 schillings a day, which would be roughly 3 US dollars. This makes it just about impossible to have a car, or even buy a meal at the market or mall. The new big thing in town, KFC, is the one american restaurant I have seen here, and it was 700 shillings for one meal. Almost 3 days wages! The gap between rich and poor astounds me, Occupy would go nuts over here. It makes me feel very blessed for what I have, and the opportunities that have been given to me. Being an american, even if lower class, we are rich! In Oregon we are so blessed with a minimum wage job giving us $8.70 AN HOUR!! One day of work with the lowest wages possible in Oregon we make what it would take most Kenyans 23 days to make! I know that the next time I complain about not making enough money, I will remember this troubling truth and count my blessings.
Wednesday was a very fun day. Wednesday was the day we were going to Kibera. Kibera is Africa’s second largest slum and houses somewhere between 270,000 - 1,000,000 people. Different people will tell you different numbers, I don’t think anyone truly knows for sure. Kibera is outside of government, it is it’s own little world. Once in Kibera we were planning on going to one of the DOVE (Declaring Our Victory Emmanuel) schools. Unfortunately we never made it inside Kibera. Since Jared and I are mzungu (white) we needed to be escorted by 2 guards carrying machine guns and billy clubs for protection, even though we were with a native, Pastor Amboga. The only problem was that the guards wanted 3,000 shillings for a 3 hour visit inside Kibera. We decided that it wasn’t worth it, and we would come back the next week with our own security. Within Kibera there are a group of guys who can be paid by visitors for protection, and they are much cheaper. I remember talking with the guards, well Pastor Amboga was, Jared or myself aren’t so good at swahili quite yet, and seeing 3 little birds tackle each other out of the air landing right at the soldiers combat boot. There they continued wrestling on the ground. I had never seen 3 birds of the same kind fight so brutally before. Then they flew off fighting in mid air. It seems as if the land itself has been cursed with violence. Shortly after seeing the birds I turned to see a huge mural of children attacking each other with axes and clubs. I think it was supporting a message of peace, but it gave off a terrible and very violent vibe. After Jared and I were rejected from entering Kibera we walked by the entrance and it sent chills down my spine. It was a narrow path, filled with people and lined on both sides with scrap metal shacks selling all kinds of ragged clothes and old fruit. Even though we were not technically in Kibera, we were at the entrance, and that alone was quite the site to see. Walking through a market I was amazed with how much trash was everywhere, even mixed deep into the soil. A image that is permanently implanted in my brain is an image of a man picking through a field of burning garbage. There was an area, probably a 100 foot square, piled at least a foot high of trash, and there were various fires through out the lot. I suppose this man was feeding the flames, but it smelt horrific, I was amazed that the man could sit down in it. I badly wanted to take a picture, but I was told not to take any pictures in Kibera unless you have security. Kibera is a world of its own, and even though we weren’t technically in Kibera, the danger was still real, but I felt oddly safe and comfortable with my surroundings. As real as the danger may have been I know that I have God to protect me, and all I wanted to do was get inside to share this protection and hope with the people of Kibera.
Going to and from Kibera Pastor Amboga took Jared and myself on the Matatu. I really enjoy riding the Matatu. Most all of the public transportation are these small toyota or nissan vans with 4 benches in the back. The vans will pull up to the side of the road with the money handler standing outside of the sliding door pounding on the roof telling the driver to stop. Then a bunch of people pile in, and the man pounds on the door again telling the driver to go. Then these matatus fly through the streets passing cars on the right and left, honking if the car in front of them slows down for even a short moment to let a pedestrian by. The matatu We rode had 20 people crammed inside and a sub woofer under the seat with two ten inch speakers in the front blasting music. Jared and I being the only mzungus made sure to hold our things in our laps. Matatus our known for pick pocketers. I remember one moment vividly, Jared and I crammed in a little old ratty van, with 18 other Africans flying through the streets of Nairobi listening to Redemption Song by Bob Marely. It was pure bliss.
Jared and I met Pastor Amboga at the church down town, so once we arrived back to the church Jared and I helped the church office (a modified semi truck container) fix their internet problem. Being 80 plus degrees and wearing jeans (it is not good for men to expose their legs) we were treated to hot tea. I am surprised by how everybody drinks hot drinks in the hot weather, but it was good non the less. And then it was up to us to drive home for the first time without an escort. On the way home we stopped at the Junction, which is an insanely nice, 5 story mall. It was quite the contrast from Kibera which was just a few kilometers down the road. We walked around a bit, Jared bought a phone since ours don’t work here, and then it was my turn to drive! Driving on the left side of the road, or dodging the huge pot holes big enough to crash a car into weren’t my biggest fears, it was the crazy aggressive drivers I was more worried about. But not near enough to stop me from driving. I had a blast driving home, we got a little lost somewhere in the 500 turns it takes to get home, but I enjoyed dodging pot holes, people and slow vehicles.
All in all it has been an amazing adventure so far, and we are only 5 days in. God is really working in me and Jared both, giving us a heart for these people and this country. As much as I do miss Rachel and my family and friends, I would rather them come here, than me go back home.
-Jordan
