Sunday

Today, after a breakfast of white bread, jam, margarine, chai and fruit I piled into the family vehicle with Stephen and Rosalyne, their three kids and Selinah, who helps around the house and with the kids. If they can afford it, most families here have at least one person helping around the house. It is a method of employing people… in between jobs? Or.. not too sure… in this case, the Selinah hopes to go to college in September, and is just working for them for a few months. Often people hire someone from their own ‘community’ (tribe), or extended family. There is also a man who helps in the house, cooking, and doing outdoor work who was there when I was there last time, as well as two brothers who are staying with the family. The house is fairly large to fit all those people plus have a room for me.

As we drove I tried to recognize and /or memorise different landmarks that would help me with navigation later. The roads aren’t on any sort of grid system, so memorizing landmarks and intersections is the best way to go. We did a zig-zag pattern to their church, and parked in the outdoor parking lot. This church was a medium sized one, next to a HUGE one. Still, it was made of bricks, and to my surprise, had a large underground parking area. Tagging along with Selinah, we sat down on stacking chairs in a big auditorium, at the tail end of the first service. It was a very smooth transition between services… there was very little blank air time as the auditorium emptied and filled again.

After a few songs the speaker came, but did not preach a sermon. Instead he told a story of how he came to know of the Christian God. He had grown up in a village not too far from a major town in the 1960’s, and was being groomed to be the village witchdoctor. His grandparents each held the prominent witchdoctor/ sorcerer type roles in the community, and people regularly sought them out to cast spells on people etc. He said his grandmother had special trinkets from India, Pakistan, and China, where she had flown in the nights, after putting the villagers under a deep curse. But this man one day heard a voice talking to him in the middle of one of their all night worship sessions, telling him that this was not the right way to go… so he left, slept, and while the others slept the next morning, he used his father’s radio to listen to a broadcast about Jesus… he came to know the ‘God of the Radio’, who made much more sense to him than the God of his grandparents. Two years later, upon being introduced to his first church, he was unsure at first who the God would be that they spoke about.. the god of his grandparents, the God of the radio, or another one? Anyways, now he is a pastor, so I guess he found out.

After church Selinah and I headed into town… It was her first time to Nairobi, as she had just arrived in Karen less than a month ago, and people don’t normally go downtown if they can afford to do business elsewhere. She is from Mt. Elgon, and knows many of the people I met when I was there last time (although, under unpleasant circumstances… many of the people I knew and wrote about in previous posts have fled their homes, many of which were burned or destroyed by rebels, and made refuge in her town, which is further away from the violence). So, I was a tour guide for a Kenyan in their capital city!

We were treated to a lovely lunch by a man I delivered a package to for one of my professor’s at home. He is Luo, so he took us for a Luo lunch of fried fish (the whole fish, eyeballs too) and 'indigenous vegetables', a catch all name for many green leafy things cooked thoroughly.

Bought a bus ticket, then went to the memorial grounds of the US Embassy that was bombed in 1998. It was interesting to see all the appeals for peace written there, especially in light of the recent upsets here.

Poster in the 1998 bombing memorial- “Just as these ladies wear jewelry, we should wear peace, because it is a jewel!

Poem found there… line breaks added- the original was written in six continuous posters, with no breaks.

Drums for Peace

I write down these words to make it look like poetry

I write to tell you that I hope you are in good hands

I write to tell you that I remember that fateful day

The day was warm and the sky was clear.

Then boom! There was a blast in the heart of the city

That day thousands of people gave up their spirits

Seven times they called out to the sun, that seventh day that our world broke

Bang! Pi pii!

Drivers jumped out of moving vehicles

That unforgettable day that our streets lined with broken glass that shattered

our peace of mind

our hearts

our world

I ask these three words

When? How? Why?

When can I show you how to love?

I write to tell you that to talk and be peaceful is possible

To live is a gift and a right

It is possible in the heart of chaos and in the middle of turmoil

To be brown or black is just a colour

To have opinions and ideas is nature and natural

I write to tell you peace is pure, peace is perfect

Peace is like morning, peace is a new beginning

Peace is like dew that brings change to dry grass

Peace is like colours bringing joy and life

Peace is precious, peace preserves life

Peace is music to the sould

Peace is forever etched in beauty