Nguru-what?

Last Saturday was the student's fall "retreat." In Kenya, "retreat" means "get out of Korr for the day," "go somewhere cooler," and "cook lots of food." We did all three of those things...in Ngurunit!

Ngurunit (In-goo-roo-nit) is a small town in the mountains about 45 km south of Korr. Alicia and I have actually been there before to visit the Knowles, one of the missionary families that live there. The students worked really hard to raise the funds to go for the day and they wanted to go here, so the teachers got in touch with the Knowles and the AIC church in Ngurunit, found the supplies we needed, and we were off!

Reason #1 of many why I knew this was going to be a wonderful day: we were allowed to wear trousers. PANTS! I haven't worn pants since we left Nairobi over six weeks ago. Seriously...I will never take pants for granted again.

We met up at school at 5:30 AM. Most of our students had been up since FOUR...they were so excited they couldn't get back to sleep! We packed 32 students, 7 teachers, 1 baby, 2 cooks, several other students we were giving a ride home to (they're on mid-term break), enough food for 45 people, and two bicycles (two of our students biked home to Ilaut, a town maybe 15 km south of Ngurunit) into the backs of two trucks.

Two. Trucks.

Amazingly, it all fit.

We were off! It has been raining in northern Kenya, and it had rained in Ngurunit the night before. We were pretty worried about making it there safely - up here, there are no paved roads and no bridges. Driving through dry riverbeds when they're dry is one thing, but when they have water in them...it can get pretty hairy. Fortunately, we only encountered one riverbed with water in it, and it wasn't enough to be worried about.

We arrived in Ngurunit safe and sound, and headed up to our site for the day - right along a stream of water that was actually flowing! The students quickly went to work with their assigned jobs - collecting firewood, getting water from the stream, etc. As the cooks built a fire to make chai, our principal Kakume calls us all over and announces we're going hiking...to see a waterfall!

"Wonderful!" I thought. "Surely it's just right around the bend in the stream. It can't be too far away!"

No. It was probably 3 km away, uphill. Over rocks. LOTS and LOTS of wet, slippery, muddy rocks. Maybe rocks isn't the best way to describe it...they were more like boulders. Slippery, muddy boulders.

For Kenyans this was no problem at all. Half of our class was in flip flops yet they are bounding like gazelles between rocks - jumping and leaping like they do this every day. Hike 3 km uphill over muddy, slippery boulders? Noooooo problem.

Alicia, Laura, and I, meanwhile, are not Kenyan. Nor are we gazelles. Quickly we get left behind to struggle. While are students are jumping (Literally. Jumping. All the way up the rocks) Alicia and I are making our way up slowly, testing out rocks first to make sure they're safe to step on, not too slippery, etc. It doesn't take long for our students to notice all the wazungu lagging behind.

"Madam! Let me help you" they say, as they grab our hands and try to guide us. Like we are 87 year old women trying to cross the street. Kakume even makes a point to say loudly for all the students to hear: "Let us make sure we are helping our three sisters out." "The three white ones," he added...as if it wasn't clear who was struggling to keep up with the Kenyan pace.

The "three white ones." I almost fell over laughing. John, our math teacher, thought it was hilarious. "Come," he would say - no, commanded - as he grabbed our arms and led us back down from the waterfall at breakneck speed. "Lucy, you need help?" (Lucy is one of our three female students.) "No, sorry, cannot help you. You're black!"

Kenyans calling each other black...what? Maybe that's one of those culture things I don't understand yet.

The waterfall was beautiful - it was so refreshing to see. Some of our students jumped in to swim...something they never get to do! We spent about an hour at the waterfall - swimming, splashing, taking tons of pictures. Then, it was time to head back down to our campsite.

After much "Madam, come this way", "Madam, give me your hand", or - my favorite - "Madam, jump on this rock" (with this rock always being IMPOSSIBLE to get to) we made it back to our campsite for chai. We played some games with the students - Alicia and I taught them "This is so much fun" (they LOVED it) and several hand clapping games. Then, lunchtime!

Let me say this first: our students rarely get to eat meat...the school can't afford it. They eat a lot of ugali and beans...a lot of it. But THIS meal...this meal was fit for a Kenyan king.

Camel meat, potatoes, onions, rice, chiapattis (Kenyan tortillas-ish)...oh boy. It was delicious, and all of our students looked satisfied and full.

We spent the afternoon playing more games and drinking more chai. (Kenyans take their chai VERY seriously...twice a day, every day. No exceptions!) It was cloudy and overcast all day long - which was wonderful because it kept the temperature WAY down. I even wore a long sleeved shirt for part of the day! It drizzled on and off...enough to keep us cool but never too much that would ruin our trip.

After our last cup of chai we went to pack up the car and head on home.

But this is Africa...it's never that easy! One of the trucks managed to get water in the fuel tank during the day. It was making TERRIBLE noises. We made it to the Knowles' house and they checked out the car while we waited. Fortunately, they were able to lend us enough fuel to make it home.

We arrived back at Tirrim Secondary as the sun was setting. Our students sang the WHOLE way home as they hung off all sides of the trucks. We dropped them off exhausted and satisfied...their faces bright and bellies full.

It was a good day...one that they will probably remember for a long time. John (the student, not the teacher) came up to me as we were taking our afternoon chai.

"Madam," he said with a smile on his face. "I have enjoyed today very much."

"Wonderful!" I replied. "I'm so glad to hear that!"

"Yes, Madam," he responded. "I think I will write a composition about it!"

That's one composition I can't WAIT to read.

Living out the Gospel

A passage from Tom Davis's Red Letters:

(ALL of you should stop reading right now and go buy this book...seriously)

I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. "When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I'll listen. "When you come looking for me, you'll find me. "Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I'll make sure you won't be disappointed."

[Jeremiah 29:11-14, The Message]

As I've come to recognize the diversity of living conditions and circumstances in our world, I've had to ask myself some tough questions: Does this Jeremiah passage apply to everyone or just to those of us who live in wealthy countries? Does it pack the same kind of meaning to people in developing countries; do they get to look forward to a hope and a future? Does it apply to the infant who was just infected with HIV through her mother's breast milk? Do children who have no other option but to sell their bodies for money for food get to claim this promise of a God-ordained destiny?

God says, "I will not abandon you." Put yourself in the figurative shoes (she has no real ones) of a five-year-old girl somewhere in the middle of Africa. Your father has died of AIDS and, after you've watched your mother cough up blood and shrivel to nothing for the last month and a half, she, too, is gone. How do you make sense of this passage? How do you not feel abandoned?

What do you set your hopes in? You set your hopes in people. People who might show up and offer a refuge, a safe place, a home. People who are the living embodiment of Christ himself. People like you and me. People who can show, with the actions of their heart, that God has not abandoned you at all.

God created every human being in his image, including people like this five year old girl whom the rest of the world has thrown away because of cruelty or neglect or ignorance. God has plans for each of them to have hope and a future too. Here's what I'm getting at - God does not abandon us. But sometimes, it takes the touch of God-with-skin-on to remind us of that. Perhaps you've had seasons when the silence of God echoed loudly in your heart. How did you find your way back? I expect the encouragement and prayers of others helped. And that's who we are to be to the poor and hurting in Africa - others. God's others. God has given us the tools and the resources to give hope to the hopeless. But unless we take those tools out of the closet, millions of innocent men, women, and children will continue to die without knowing that hope.

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A lot of people have told me, once they found out I was going to do missions in Africa for a year, that I was doing "such a good thing" or that "they could never do what I'm doing."

Here's the thing though: I'm not doing anything special. I'm a sinner just like you. There is nothing good in me except of that that comes from Christ. Not a single thing. I am doing nothing extraordinary here in Kenya, and if you'd told me that I would be here three years ago I would have laughed you out of the room. I am only here because God has called me to Kenya to be His hands and feet to the Rendille people and here's the thing: He's calling you to be His hands and feet too.

We as Christians are called to care for the orphan, the widow, the homeless. The lowest of the low. Our King died on the cross for the millions of Africans infected with HIV/AIDS and preventable diseases like malaria just like He died for you and me.

"I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." [Matthew 25:40]

Jesus even goes as far to say that how we treat these very people - the ones the world neglects and is cruelly indifferent to - is how we treat Him.

Yikes. Anybody feeling uncomfortable yet? I certainly am. How many homeless people on street corners have I avoided making eye contact with? How much do I love my Starbucks and spend my money on things I don't need but want instead of giving it to somebody who truly needs it? You don’t have to go to the other side of the world to find poverty and suffering.

I'm not trying to make you feel guilty for drinking your frappachinos...promise. What I'm saying is you don't have to come to Africa to help bring justice to the millions who, by no fault of their own, were born in Africa and not America. You can help from where you are.

Those of us in the Western world cannot sit by any longer and watch this. We are equipped with more than we could ever need; we have the very tools that can end needless suffering for millions of people - not just in Africa, but over the entire world. We have more money than the vast majority of the world can even dream of. Why don’t we stop talking about helping and actually start helping?

Did you know that 1.2 billion people in the world are estimated to live on less than $1 per day and almost 3 billion people on less than $2 a day? That's 3.9 billion people out of a world population of almost 7 billion. Did you know that 2.5 million children die every year from malaria...a disease that is preventable?

Overwhelmed yet? That's okay. I am too. Statistics like these upset me because it’s not fair. It’s not fair that I was born into a loving, healthy family and have never had to worry about whether or not I would have a roof over my head as I slept that evening. It’s not fair that I’ve never gone to sleep hungry while literally billions of people around the world do every single night.

But instead of getting upset and stopping there let's DO something about it.

“We, as Christ followers, are called to continue the work Jesus began. What does this mean? It means we have to embody the good news. It means we have to do all we can to end poverty, to feed the hungry, and to find homes for the homeless. It means we have to listen to that inner voice crying for justice and act on it.”

[Tom Davis, Red Letters]

Let’s pray together. But let's not use prayer as an excuse to not actually go out and serve.

Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

[James 2:15-17]

Let’s serve together…it doesn’t have to be overseas. Serve your community. Serve your neighbors that you don’t like. Serve the homeless guy you see every morning as you drive to work. Jesus didn't tell us to love the people that are easy to love, he told us to love everybody. We can't just sit back and expect somebody else to serve for us. WE, as the Church, are called to be His hands and feet to the orphan, to the widow, to the oppressed. God holds these people in a special place in His infinite heart. We have more than the means to actually provide for people in addition to praying for them. We should be the ones on the front lines instead of waiting around for governments or even NGO’s to get there first.

Let’s give together…give our time, our efforts, and our money. If you can’t go across the world, give support to somebody who can. God calls some of us to go and he calls some of us to support. Serve the millions of orphans of Africa by donating to any number of worthwhile charitable organizations that are already on the ground there. Donate to missions organizations. Sponsor a child in need through Compassion International, Family Legacy, HopeChest, or any other Christian sponsorship program.

There is so much sin in our world…so much evil. AIDS, poverty, child trafficking, slavery…the list is never-ending. But we have Hope. Hope in Christ, and the grace to receive that hope freely. We as Christians should be loving as Christ did by bringing that hope to everyone...

Everyone.

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

[Edmund Burke]

What's in a clan?

I’ve been given a new name. An African name, to be exact.

You ready for this?

From now on, you may refer to me as Siberyan Labarakwe.

Some of you are probably thinking, 'Yes, Jamie. We KNOW you’ve been given a Rendille name. Siberyan. What else is new?'

Yes. But NOW I have a last name too!

Because I’VE BEEN ADOPTED BY A RENDILLE CLAN!

The Rendille tribe is further broken down into eight clans. I could try and name them all for you, but I don’t know them all yet.

BUT…I do know one clan name. Roongummo.

MY clan.

For six weeks now Alicia and I have just been wazungu here in Korr– two crazy white girls who can’t really speak the language that are here to teach. Which would seem like enough, but here it’s not. The Rendille culture is one that strongly identifies with family. Your clan is your extended family…the ones you can always count on. It’s a HUGE part of your identity! People have asked us many times: “Ati a goobah?” (What clan are you?) We have never had answers…until now.

Amina, our Rendille language teacher, adopted me on Friday into her family. Her last name is Labarakwe – which is now my Rendille last name too! Alicia was adopted earlier in the day by Nariyo, a woman from our church. She’s now a Dubsahai.

“Ani a Roongummo!” I now proudly say. This elicits multiple responses from many people – especially other Roongummo clan members!

Rendille relations get confusing after that. Amina is my Rendille mother, but everybody else seems to skip cousin and aunt or uncle and just go to brother and sister. I now have dozens of new brothers and sisters....AND. Guess who I'm now related to!

KHASSO!

Then, some people technically have TWO clans - they were born into one but married into another. Alicia and I sat down and tried to figure out if we're now related through our Rendille families. Nick is a Salle (another clan) but Lynne is a Roongummo - she's my sister. Alicia's Rendille mama Nariyo was born a Salle but married into Dubsahai. Nick is Nariyo's "father" (not really) and therefore Alicia's grandfather. (Confused yet?) But because Lynne is married to Nick and Lynne is my "sister," I am now...

Alicia's great-aunt.

Ridiculous.

Kenyan-isms

I love Kenyan English.

Today, after school Alicia and I were talking about American rap with some of our students. (If you're wondering why we were talking about rap, I am too...) Somehow we arrived at 50 Cent.

Let me stop for a second and clarify something: my students may be black, but they are the farthest thing from hood you've ever met. They haven't a clue what "hood" even means. They've heard of Soulja Boy, Brandy(...), 2pac, and 50 Cent, but they have no idea about the culture that comes with rap music.

Nevertheless, I uttered the phrase (in my best hood impression) "Fiddy! He's been shot fo' times!" (You can go ahead and judge me. I won't be offended.)

To which Ismail enthusiastically responded, "YES, Madam! He HAS been shot four times!"

Okay, it's not as funny when it's typed out in a blog post, but I'm STILL laughing. He was so proper in the way he said it!

I'm still getting used to Kenyan English. Example: Alicia is pointing out to Jonathan where he is in a picture she took:

Jonathan: "Yes, Madam! I am seeing!"

Not "I see"..."I am seeing." Love it.

The only problem with understanding Kenyan English is how quietly they speak it. Kenyans are SO soft-spoken, and then half of the time they try to convey what they want to say without using words and instead using facial expressions and hand gestures. Most of the times my students try to talk to me I have to respond with a "HUH?" "WHAT?" "Could you repeat that, please?"

But it's getting better. Slowly. (VERY slowly!) But slowly is better than not at all!

(On a complete side note, can you guess which famous action hero all of my students have heard of? That's right...Chuck Norris. Walker, Texas Ranger plays every Saturday afternoon here in Kenya!)

It's official...

I've gone national.

I *may* or may not have incredulously uttered the words, "Where did all these WHITE PEOPLE come from?" today.

I'm turning into a Rendille.

Today is a national holiday in Kenya - it's Moi Day. Moi was the second president of Kenya - he was actually a HUGE supporter of AIM missionaries, but that's a topic for a whole other post. Point is, each fall Tirrim Primary and Secondary schools hold a Culture Day on Moi Day. It's an opportunity for the kids to show off their Rendille culture to the community! (Which is all Rendille too, but that's beside the point...)

Over a THOUSAND people were there. Traditional Rendille who walked up to 20 kilometers to come watch their son or daughter perform. We saw traditional prayers, a wedding ceremony acted out by the Class 1 kids, several different tribal dances, and even a rap performed in Swahili!

Our kids at the Secondary School performed three Samburu dances - 3/4 of our class is Samburu and not Rendille. (The Samburu are cattle herders while the Rendille are camel herders, and because of this they get along as their animals graze at different levels - grass for cattle vs. eye-level for camels.)

I think I'm beginning to understand why my mom took so many pictures at all of my dance competitions and volleyball games growing up. Alicia and I were straight up OBNOXIOUS trying to get pictures of our students...we defined the term "Mamarazzi" that Kendall so lovingly coined. I've never been so proud of a group of people in my entire life. They were the highlight of the day!

Seriously. They are WARRIORS! I forget that sometime. In school, all I seem them as are students - teenagers who have fought through every hardship imaginable just to have a chance at a real secondary education. They inspire me in more ways than I could ever, ever express. But all the while I still forget sometimes that we are in Africa, that they are African, that they belong to a tribe, and that these tribes have their own distinctive, unique cultures.

Until today!

Needless to say, Alicia and I LOOOOOOVED Culture DAY :) I think we took, what...1000 pictures between the two of us? No big.

But back to the beginning of my post - there were twelve Dutch people at Culture Day today. TWELVE. All looked very out of place in their trousers -women don't wear trousers in Korr- and REI shirts. (They were guests of honor as they are building a Primary School in Ngurunit, a neighboring town.)

They tripled the wazungu population today in Korr.

It was as soon as I finished saying it that I realized I've grown more comfortable here than I thought. We are (slowly) learning the language; we have met and made friends with some of the women at church - both traditional and English-speaking. People are slowly less and less acting shocked to see a mzungu wandering through town at midday as we make our way home from school. I looked at the date today and realized we've been here over FIVE WEEKS! Time really has flown by.

Despite the cultural barriers and lack of comforts from home I took for granted, this place is really starting to feel like a home away from home.

Kenyan School of Thought

Picture a pick up truck. There's nothing special about it...a regular-sized pickup with a regular-sized bed.

Got that picture in your head?

How many people you figure you can fit comfortably in the bed of this imaginary pickup?

If you're like me, you said something around 8. Maybe 9 or 10, if they're good friends and don't mind snuggling and your destination is a short distance away.

Now if you're Kenyan, you'd say 20 without any hesitation in your voice.

I'm serious. Today at our staff meeting we were talking about a retreat the students are hoping to go on next weekend. (In Kenya, "retreat" means "get out of Korr, eat something, and then drive back.")

Only problem is, we're in the desert. Middle-of-nowhere, there-are-no-paved-roads-for-MILES, desert. So when we leave Korr, we have to go far. Ngurunit is a town about 45 kilometers away from Korr, and where the students want to go for this retreat.

Keep in mind we don't have school buses here - the Rendille don't even know what that is. Rendille walk. They walk EVERYWHERE. Alicia and I have already been made fun of by our students for this.

"Madam, you cannot run 5 kilometers?" (We had been talking about charity 5ks back in the States) They all snicker amongst themselves.

God bless Jonathan: "It's okay Madam. If you can run 5 kilometers, you can surely walk 10!" Even Kakume, our principal, had this nonchalant response when he heard there is a missionary family in Ngurunit that wants us to come visit except we have no means of transportation: "Just walk there!" (Oh, yeah....a 45 kilometer stroll through the harsh desert where lions have been known to roam. NBD.)

The Rendille are straight up crazy sometimes. Case in point: we have no cell phone towers in Korr...but if you're desperate to talk on the phone, fear not! There's a mountain near Korr that if you climb to the very top of it - over the boulder-sized lava rocks and past all the puff adders, scorpions, and cobras - you can get a cell phone signal. People walk to it "all the time," we've been told. "It's not far, Madam!" our students say.

This mountain is 17 kilometers away from Korr.

Would you walk 17 kilometers and taunt death (or severe injury) just to talk on the phone? Would you walk for an hour and forty minutes under the beating, harsh desert sun just to use your cell?

Heck. No.

Some of the Rendille do it regularly!

But I digress.

20 people in the back of a pickup. No problem! It was comical to think about for me....the differences in Kenyan and American rationalities. All I could think about: How unsafe is this? How could we even FIT 20 people in one pickup bed? It's not a paved road we'll be driving on...it's a bumpy desert road. What if people fall out? Ngurunit is at least an hour's drive away! What if something happens in between Korr and Ngurunit? Will the truck be able to handle the weight of 20 people who will surely be standing in the bed and not sitting?

Every Kenyan teacher: "Yeah. 20 is not a problem. There are 43 of us...so we only need two cars!" End. Of. Story.

TWO CARS FOR FORTY THREE PEOPLE.

One thing's for sure: I'm calling shotgun.