Kenya 5

November 26, 2008

Today was another incredible day of class. The students are learning the poem “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou and making up movements to go with it. We gave our students an assignment to tell us a struggle they had and then follow it with the words, “And still I rise.” One small boy got up in front of the class and said, “Last night I looked for dinner, but didn’t get any. I went to bed hungry, but still I rise!” We found out later that the boy hadn’t eaten since we gave him lunch the day before, so Dorette and Said took him outside the classroom and gave him some food. The boy came back to class very excited and active and thanked Dorette several times. When we read the students’ journals we found that several talked about going without food and not being able to study. I told Brenda, one of the local teachers, that although some children in the US go to bed hungry, most actually overeat and would not be able to relate to that at all.

I also talked to Brenda about the possibility of sponsoring one of the children. I have been to Mathare. I have met these children. I would much rather help one of these kids then to get a child I have never met or seen their environment.

I went back to Andrew’s familiy’s house and his mother gave me many things to take back to him and his sister. In addition, she went to the Masai market yesterday and bought me jewelry for my family and t-shirts for me. The hospitality is incredible here. Celmali and Carl and I noticed that, unless there is a special occasion, Americans don’t know how to receive gifts.

Kenya 4

November 25, 2008

Today, I woke at 5am hot and with a mosquito in my ear. Since I could not sleep, I made a cup of tea and enjoyed the silence. Most of our kids came back today and we also got six more girls for our class. Duncan was not able to make it, and I am hoping we see him again tomorrow. Our class went very well, but we have a lot of work to do between now and Friday. I am impressed with the hope that exists in children who live in such conditions. I also love the fact that they see the things in their area that need to change and they want to be the change agents.

After class, we took a walk around the Mathare Valley. I am pretty sure this is worse than Dharvi slums in Mumbai. The river that runs through the valley is extremely contaminated with human waste and garbage. Small business are everywhere in the Valley. Some make chipati, some make beer, and others fry French fries or dry maize. This seems to be the only was people are able to make money. Most of the houses were made out of scrap metal or dung. The smell is almost unbearable and the filth is incredible. Any churches in the valley are locked up and have fences around them. We were told that the churches will not work together and that some won’t allow people to come to the church unless they are wearing suits and dresses.

Mathare is a place that is dirty and ugly. Mathare’s people are the most beautiful people I have seen. The children are smart, eager, gorgeous, and I fear for them. No one should live like this. With so many Christians in the world and so much wealth owned by those Christians, there is no reason there should even be a place called Mathere…..at least not one that looks like this. These people are children of God just as I am. They are entitled to the same rights as I have. As Christians, we should be fighting for these people and making their lives more just. I was shocked and saddened by the lack of the church’s existence in the valley.

I thought a lot about the verses in the Bible that speak about helping the poor, the last will be first, and the poor will inherit the earth. I wonder how those verses apply to the people of Mathare. As I write this, I am watching the news talk about an additional 800 billion dollars that is about to be put back into the economy. I wonder what that much money could do for places like Mathare.

After we walked through the valley, I slept for three hours, got up and ate dinner, and then went out with Pat, Dr. Corbitt, Dorette, and Carl to Fairview for coconut sorbet and beer☺ There isn’t enough time to wrap up a day like this.

Kenya 3

24th
Today was day one at the school and the first day I went to visit my Friend’s parents. When we arrived at the school, we found out that we would have three Kenyan teachers with us for class. Brenda is a drama teacher at a local church, Said is a musician, and Godfrey is a photographer. We have 16 students who are beautiful and wonderful! These kids are so eager to learn and begin listening right away. Today, we worked on acting out the poem, Still I Rise by Maya Angelou and worked on movement and mirroring. Our metaphor today was that Theatre is like a mirror of our lives because it tells the story of life like a mirror tells the story of our face. The children began telling their stories by telling us things they have seen or been through in life.

After class, we went to David’s family’s café to eat native food. We had Chapatis, greens, corn, and beans. Everything was delicious!! We then went quickly from poverty to wealth, going to the YAYA center, an upscale mall.

At night, Andrew’s dad came to pick me up and have me over for dinner. I was able to see Andrew’s house, and meet his cousins and brother. For the most part I spoke with his mom and dad and barely spoke to the children at all. I was treated like a queen here and they served me a generous dinner and even brought me water and a basin to wash my hands for dinner. We had a wonderful conversation about politics, global concerns, and mostly, Obama. Andrew’s dad says that Americans have got to got back to the basics. Here, I understand what the basics are and I like them. The room is simple, the food is simple, the life, in ways, is simple, and all is good. How is it that I survive on so little here, yet need so many more amenities at home? He said the world is a small village and is the US sneezes, the whole world has a cold. This is why they watch our economy and life very carefully. I never thought of 9/11 affecting them very much, but he said, that hurt everyone, not just the US. I think that when missionaries “brought the gospel to the world,” they only focused on saving souls instead of changing lives. Along with Christianity came corruption and the people here see that. How we have failed Christ. Perhaps it is those people who we were out to “save” who will eventually have to save us. Though no one is perfect and corruption in general is bad here, there is so much we can learn from the sense of community, strong family values, and basic respect for others that Kenyan people share.

Coming back to my hotel, I had “a moment,” and watched Novelas with Carl. Then, Dorette and I brainstormed about class tomorrow. We are both excited about our plans for the day. I am extremely gassy and have a rash on my face and chest. I am hoping this is something that will easily go away…

Barack Obama is like a god here.

Kenya Day 2

23rd

Today we got to go to our site and meet the teachers we will be working with. Mathare Valley is one of the worst and largest slums in Africa. Of all the children we are working with, 30-40% are sexually abused, 70-80% have witnessed violence that led to death, 75-80% have HIV, 25% are children of prostitutes, 90-100% are beaten by their parents as a means for correction, and many are victims of incest. Common in their life are gang fights, fires, Marijuana, alcohol abuse, and sniffing. Most of these children are living in homes with one parent and often have to do the cooking and care for their younger siblings.

These facts were overwhelming to me. It is sad enough just to see how they are living, but to think about the trauma they have experienced in their lives at such a young age, it is easy to understand why it may be hard for them to grasp the concept of hope. How can I, an American who has grown up with three meals a day, two parents, a large clean house, good education, and clean clothes, ask them to have hope? My initial response is to just scoop them all up and take them home with me. But how can I assume that they would want that? Mathare is all they have ever known and I could not remove their past just from removing them from Mathare. If there is a way I could give just one of these beautiful children hope and the motivation to be better than what the world is telling them they are, then this whole trip is worth it.

My day closed with Vicki, Dr. Corbitt, Dorette, and I going to the Fairview Hotel for drinks to celebrate my birthday. After that, Carl, Celmali, Dorette, Liberty, and I prepared our lessons for the huge task we have ahead of us.

Kenya Day 1

November 22nd
I started my 31st birthday in the Amsterdam airport sitting in a retro overly priced McDonalds sipping on a fruit smoothie. Here, I did school work nearly 4,000 from my school! In the airport, I noticed and took comfort in the simplicity and cleanliness of the Netherlands. It made me resent my cluttered America. On my flight from Amsterdam I sat with a woman from Georgia who was headed on Safari in Kenya and a woman from Ottawa who was headed to Uganda. Though we were all from The US, our English dialects contrasted beautifully.

I enjoy international travel. You get free alcohol, a wide selection of movies with your own screen, and food is delivered almost every 45 minutes or so. For the most part, I slept, ate, drank, and felt a little infantile. The flight attendant would wake me up each time she had food, I would get up and eat it and go right back to bed. This lasted all 9 hours of our flight.

Arriving in Kenya was incredible. The warm air hit my face and it smelled fresh. Getting a VISA took forever, but customs didn’t even open my bag and I got swiftly through the doors. A very pleasant man named Boniface came to pick us up in a stretch Land Rover and we were on our way. Like my trip to India, we arrived at night, so there wasn’t much to see. However, as we turned to go up the hill to our Hostel, we got a flat tire. Boniface tried to get someone to come pick us up, but ended up driving us the rest of the way with the flat.

Later I learned that he had to get us to the hotel so that thieves didn’t come and take all of our stuff. Our Hostel is nice. Simple and clean. I am totally beat and not very creative right now, so I will write more tomorrow.

Kenya Journal

Nov. 21-22

As I packed my car to leave for Kenya, a hard snow fell. I worked diligently to scrape my car and then started on my journey form winter wonderland to sunny Kenya. I drove to Philadelphia, met up with Vickie and Carl and drove to Newark. Here, we met Dorette and boarded our plane to Amsterdam. After only a few hours of sleep, I was too tired to be excited. I felt like I was just going through the motions and none of it was real. I have wanted to come to Africa for as long as I can remember. Now, at 31, I was finally doing it. Not only was I going to Africa, I was going as an Artist teacher. I am not sure it could get any closer to what I consider a dream. To be honest, I am a little sad that I will not be at home to celebrate my birthday or Thanksgiving, but I also know that I need to be willing to make sacrifices if I am going to do mission work. There are people who say they want to go to Africa or India, or somewhere else in the world to do mission work and there are people who do it. I used to be someone who just talked about it. Then, I realized that I must work hard and make sacrifices if I was actually going to do it.

Christ is in the City

I like the image Howard Moody has of the city as both a sacrament and as a symbiosis. These images were new to me, yet I understood them. Thinking about all of the creations of God coming together in their infinite diversity and appearing as the city is poetic and so real. As city dwellers, we must look inwardly to have a silent and still moment.

However, we must also notice how children playing in the hydrants, jumping rope, or following us around are clear signs of God in the city. Old women sitting on their stoops laughing, sharing their life stories, and keeping an eye on the children are experiences of God in the city. Sleeping with the homeless in Love Park is God alive in the city. God is laughing, crying, screaming, and watching in the city. In the city, God’s children from every corner of the world are gathered and God smiles. His kingdom is coming full circle here as the poor are clothed and fed, prisoners are visited, and flowers spring up from the cracks of the sidewalk where a shooting occurred.

In my childhood, I experienced God in the crackling sounds and vibrant colors of the Aurora Borealis, the crystal clear waters of Alaska’s wilderness, and the magnificent mountain ranges that reached the heavens. As an adult, when I sought God in the city, I didn’t expect to find Him there. To my surprise, I not only found Him, but found Him in abundance. He was in the eyes of the crack feen on my corner, in the cries of the mother who watched her son as he was taken away, and in the laughter of children on my block. It was clear that God was here.

I believe that urban spirituality is found in relationship with others. It is not dependant on nature and solitude, but rather in the connection of one person to another in “everyday experiences.” As a city dweller, I am given the opportunity everyday to help someone who is in need. Though I know that human suffering exists outside the walls of the city, I find it so clear in my everyday experience and, as Freire explains, it has “built a capacity for hope through (my) spirituality.”

Today the test results came back.
It felt like the beginning again.
The cancer hasn’t grown.
Larger or smaller.

Three months of watching his body get pumped full of poison.
Three months of watching him loose his hair, his weight, his strength.

Three weeks of no chemo.
Three weeks of seeing his color return, noticing more whiskers on his cheek, seeing him smile.

Three solid weeks of hope and happiness for the rest of us.
Belief that it was really working.

Another day of wondering why.
Another day of facing the possibility that this might just be a battle he can’t win.
Another day of feeling completely helpless.

My Desire is to Love You

Sometimes I ask people how they know if they love someone. I have been thinking a lot about love lately and thinking about what I believe love is. I was raised a Christian, so I typically look to scripture for answers. In Corinthians, there is a passage that even non-Christians are familiar with because it is read so often at weddings. The thing is, it was not originally written for love in marriage. It was written to give all of us an explanation of how to love one another.

It reads:

Love is PATIENT.
Love is KIND.

Love does not ENVY.
It does not BOAST
It is not PROUD.
It is not RUDE
It is not SELF-SEEKING
It is not easily ANGERED

It keeps NO RECORD OF WRONGS.

LOVE does not DELIGHT IN EVIL but REJOICES WITH THE TRUTH.

LOVE ALWAYS PROTECTS,
ALWAYS TRUSTS,
ALWAYS HOPES,
ALWAYS PERSEVERES.

LOVE NEVER FAILS.


In the last few months, I have left a job I had and loved for nearly 5 years, started a new job, started a grad program, moved to a new house with new housemates, and discovered my dad had a rare form of cancer that is incurable. As a result, I have alienated many of my friends and isolated myself a good deal. Some of my friends have loved me regardless and have put up with the crazy that comes out of my mouth and in my actions. I am humbled and blessed by these friends and am learning so much from them during this time in my life.

Still, I struggle with what it is to love. I have a friend who says, “I love you,” and has asked why I don’t say it back. I look at this verse in Corinthians and realize I have failed my friends and family so many times.

I have lost my patience.
I have been mean.
Instead of rejoicing in their success, I have envied them.
I have been proud and boasted when I did well.
I have been rude.
I have used people for my own benefit.
I have become angry.

I have not only kept records of wrongs but also brought them up over and over and talked about them with others. Sometimes, I just couldn’t let it go.

I have “rejoiced in evil” by finding humor in others’ failure.

I have not always protected them by standing up for them when others have wronged them.
I have not trusted. In fact, I barely ever trust.
I have not been hopeful.
I have given up.

I have failed.

And when I have failed, I felt it. Without even looking at the words in Corinthians, I have felt the absence of love when I have done these things. How many of us, when looking at this verse can see that we have, on at least one occasion, been the complete opposite of love? How many of us have stopped loving someone because they have fallen short of love, even though we know we have done the same? The explanation of love in Corinthians is agape love. It is the highest form of love and I believe the strongest intangible thing in life. When it is done right, you feel it. You know it. You want it. To experience it is to experience a “thin place.” That is, a place where the physical meets the spiritual. To truly feel the Creator’s pull between two people.

I have felt this love from friends, family and the Almighty. It is pure, holy, and extraordinary. So when I say “I love you,” it is hard for me, because I know I haven’t, but I wish I could. Perhaps, what we should be saying is,” My desire is to love you.” That, to me, would be speaking the truth in love.

sing hallelujah!

Sometimes life gets hard.

You work all day, study all night and hope for a better life.

Then, sometimes your dad gets cancer. and some things just aren't as important anymore.

Joy doesn't come from working hard anymore.

Joy comes from seeing my dad wrapped up in a hammock in a ray of sun days before the Chemo starts poisoning his body.

Joy comes from catching butterflies with my 3-year old niece, taking goofy pictures with my 6 year old niece, and from the laughter that comes from my nephew when I tickle him.

Joy comes from preparing a meal for friends.

Joy comes from a night of popcorn, pizza, wine, and good Kung Fu movies with a friend.

Joy comes from smiles in a hospital when dad puts the last two chocolates on the end of his bed and looks at me. who cares about calories then?

Joy comes from a long walk and a talk when we should be studying.

Joy comes from a hot shower on a cold morning.

Joy comes from a full moon on a clear night.

despite the scary things in life, God has a way of reminding you to stop and enjoy the moments that really matter.

Those moments are not regret, anger, hate, judgment, or competition. These are things that are a total waste of time because they do nothing to bring about the good moments.

Sometimes your dad gets cancer and you realize that the pettiness isn't worth it and that it's ok to cut out the negative people and things in your life because they are only a waste of time.

I'm not a self-help guru or anyone who is very important to anybody. But, if you have read this far, take my advice and knock it off!

Stop hurting people, stop talking behind their backs, stop judging, stop hating, stop wasting your time, 'cuz you don't have as much of it as you think you do.

Start loving, start laughing, make goofy faces, catch a butterfly, give thanks, sing a song, take a picture, take a day off work, spend time with your family instead of your school work, walk away when negativity walks through the door or calls you on the phone.

And most importantly; no matter what happens in life, look up to the sky and sing Hallelujah!

riding it out....

I’m on a roller coaster called Cancer.

My dad is riding in the front seat with my mother
my sister and brother and I are sitting behind them.
On the first turn, are CAT scans, blood tests, PET scans, biopsies.
Then we begin our ascent to the loop of horrible prognosis
and we begin to feel death.
As we come down from the first loop,
we feel hope and smooth sailing
The next loop comes fast and we see that the loops don’t end.
Each one is more Chemo, more hospitals, more tests
All I want to do is jump off this coaster,
but I am fastened in tight and can barely breathe
I’m too weak
My crying has ceased

Dad

My dad is big and strong. He is over 6 feet tall and his sholders are broad. He is quiet and reserved and sits in his chair from early in the morning till late at night reading his books. He doesn't watch sports or TV, hunt, drink beer, disrespect women or yell. He is gentle, kind, loving, and he listens. He fishes, gardens, reads, hikes, camps, and teaches us how to enjoy nature, love God, care for others, and explore the world. He loves people. He is always standing at the sidelines and in the audience cheering me on. He hates confrontation, war, mean people, and pettiness.

When I was five, he had cancer for the second time. I watched as the hair fell from his head and the weight fell off his body as he struggled with chemo. I visited him in the hospital. Then, I watched as he got better, grew his hair back, and slowly got strong again. For 25 years, he has been healthy. A few weeks ago, we were at the beach and he was very sick. When we got back, his high fever lasted over a week. After a bout of antibiotics, the doctor had him come in for a CAT scan.

Today, we found out that he has a growth on his liver and an irregular LFT on his blood tests. Tomorrow he goes in to meet with a surgeon to schedule a biopsy. I feel sick. After he told me, I went into the shower and cried so he wouldn't know I was already thinking the worst. Now, I don't know how to wait without my mind being totally consumed with what will happen next. somehow I thought writing might help.

just have to get it off my chest

ok, so I should be working on the 5 Grad papers I have to write this weekend, but I have to get something off my chest first. I recently started a new job at a Mission Organization where we often have to take a truck out and pick donations up from various locations. On my first day there I had to fill out my information in order to be put on the insurance policy. One of the questions read, "marital status." I thought this was strange seeing that I don't remember having to fill this out on my own insurance policy, but I figured it didn't matter much. So, I proudly checked "single" and was done.

A few days later I was told that, even though I am 30, and have a clear driving record, that I could not be covered on this insurance policy because I was single and that would cost the $200 extra! I was astounded and angry! I can't believe that I am actually being discriminated against for being SINGLE! Jesus was single! George Clooney and Charlize Theron, both voted as the most beautiful people are single! The best Scotch is one that is a Single Malt. I am responsible, mature, and support myself. How exactly would marriage make me a better driver? I have friends that have been married for a while who are reckless drivers and who even drive drunk, but their insurance would be lower simply because they have a spouse.

If anything, I am doing this world a favor by being single. The world is over populated and the only way I will have kids is to adopt. And, since I am not having sex, I am also not spreading disease. I don't need a minivan or SUV to cart all my stuff and kids around, so I can drive a small eco-friendly sedan. Also, with all the extra time I have, I volunteer more, I support the economy by shopping more, I laugh more, and I have more time for my friends. So to all of you insurance people out there who are basing your charges on stupid statistics, here's a statistic for you: almost 50% of marriages end in divorce and the majority of those divorces are of people who were married BEFORE the age of 30! (http://www.divorcerate.org/) The divorce rate for people like me, who have waited till after 30, is less than 10%. Eat that statistic!

~I'm done

An Easter Conversation

Ok, so this didn't actually happen on Easter, but it was a touching conversation between my niece and I and I have the time today to share it....

Recently, while standing in my parent's backyard with my 6-year-old neice, Elianna, I was watching my 7-year-old nephew, Junito play soccer with my dog. Then, probably as a result of consuming some type of dairy, I farted.

Elianna: (laughing and squishing up her face) Ewwwww, Aunt Bekah, that's gross! Say excuse me!

Me: Sorry. (laughing) That's why I'm single.

Elianna: What do you mean?

Me: Well, guys don't find it attractive when girls fart. So, here I am at 30 without a Husband.

Elianna: (thinking for a moment and then her eyes pop open) You should just wait till Junito grows up! You can marry him 'cuz he loves farts.

Me: Somehow I don't think that will work out.

Yellowstone (Part 2)

Well, it took a less than impressive ice storm for me to finally sit down at my computer and finish my Yellowstone story. I apologize to my readers (all 3 of you) that it has taken so long, but things have been a little crazy lately and it is hard for me to sit still for more than 5 seconds and it definitely takes longer than that to write this stuff. Anyway, sit back and enjoy....

On Sunday morning, my friend and I woke up to a beautiful day, went to a small, but lovely church in Great Falls and returned home. I was excited that he was taking me to Yellowstone and appreciated the fact that he was even splurging a bit for a nice hotel. So, I did what I'm best at and went to the kitchen to whip up a little pre-trip "thank you." This consisted of coffee and my special 3-egg salsa/veggie omelets which are, if I can say so myself, delicious! We then headed out into the unusually sunny Montana afternoon to tape a bit of women's soccer and go straight to the editing room.

After my friend was done doing work, we met several of his friends in a local park for a lively game of touch football. I wanted to join in, but was told I was not allowed, so I dressed up a bit just in case a potential Mr. Right happened to be at play that day. No Luck. Some of the other guys asked why I wasn't playing which just made me mad at myself for not insisting. I should have told my friend to screw himself, put on a pair of sweats, and run out onto the field. Instead, I sat in a lawn chair on the sidelines and ran for Gatorade when the boys got thirsty. Lame. I know.

As the sun went down and it began to get a little chilly, they wrapped up the game and we headed back home to get our stuff ready for Yellowstone. I had waited patiently most of my life and now all day to finally go and was completely stoked about what I was about to do. Unfortunately for me, my friend had worn himself out playing ball and was tired and in a miserable mood. We barely spoke on the 3-hour ride to the hotel. In my mind, I thought of a million things I could ask him and of all the things we could talk about, but didn't want to bother him any more than I had to. I figured if I left him alone that night he would get a good night's rest, and be fun to be with again in the morning. Little did I know….

When we arrived at the hotel, we walked into the impressive lobby and I immediately felt like we were back in the old west and that everything was about to get better. The woman who worked there was small-town and friendly. The décor was straight out of a John Wayne film and I was excited that I was going to get to stay in such a unique and Montana-esque place. I felt like I was about to be rewarded for being so patient for so long.

Despite the fact that I had called two days prior to make reservations, given my credit card, had a confirmation number and a room number and there was a sign out front that said "vacancy," we were quickly informed that they had no record of us and had no available rooms. Here is where the trip started going completely down hill.

Where Have all the Cowboys Gone?

Seriously....can someone please show me a man who says what they mean and who isn't a complete ass hole? I'm getting sick and tired of being lead to believe that I've finally found a true cowboy...a gentleman...only to find out he's just like all the rest. I just don't think I can take one more guy building me up and tearing me down once again.