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           15 September 2005 7:07pm                                                    

The crazy birds wake me up every morning. They sound awful, like Canadian Geese but with laryngitis. Somebody please mail me a pump shot gun with an extra full choke. Don't worry about the legality of standard postal requirements, I know who to bribe.

Two occurances happened today that were extraordinary. The first was the speaker's talk at the official convocation ceremony today, even though class started Monday. The main speaker, a professor from Boston College, made the focus of the convocation the understanding that we believe in a God who uses the foolish to shame the wise and the weak to shame the strong. Over and over throughout the bible and history God has taken a stand against his 'proud' believers. Every convocation that I have attended has made its focus 'tradition' and 'honor' and 'integrity'. How refreshing to be part of an institution where the final call was to 'Be not Giants but children'.

The second was my Sociology of Language class. The professor previously had the class turn in sheets which required us, among other things, to fill in our first language. (He also had us fill in our nicknames; I told him he could option to call me The Dude) In class today he wrote across the top of the board: Gikoyo, Kamba, Embu, Kuris, Luyia, Logooli, Dholuo, Kalenjin, and Lingala. These languages were all the home languages of nine students in the class. He had the students come forward and write underneath their language the words for water/sand/blood/tree. The final point was how these nine students share a common linguistic ancestor as evidenced by the similarity of their Niger-Congo (mostly Bantu) languages. He said he did not even breach into the remaining students who were not Niger-Congo, since they were Chaddick and Semitic and would have nothing in common. I could not help but reflecting on how honored I was to even be allowed to sit behind this cobbled desk.

           14 September 2005 7:36pm                                                    

I read somewhere that the cross is an interesting choice of items to use as a symbol of discipleship under Christ. Every other major religion uses promising symbols: Star, Rising Sun, Lotus Blossum, Crescent Moon. Yet the cross is instrument of execution, like an electric chair or a lethal injection syringe. Pretty morbid. But I guess it isn't so sick after all, considering it is by this government-conducted religion-sponsored execution of a peacemaker that our rebellion was removed from one side of the fulcrum. All of a sudden, this execution device becomes a symbol of love that supercedes pink hearts and high fructose corn syrup every day of the year.

The ending of my life in the US (for a period) has also had some benefits that I am still discovering. Nobody here knows me. Its somewhat bad, because I have to struggle more for relationships, but it has the wonderful benefit of being able to start over. I have been jolted from the rut of my persona, with the somewhat limited option of ceasing the parts I did not like and continuing the parts I did. My worship, prayer, and especially my study habits have all benefitted from this re-erected posture of living.

And I still am not used to having to walk on the left side of the sidewalk. Everybody smile at the clumsy muzungu....

           13 September 2005 7:35pm                                                    

"If you are serious about being students here, you will buy the book", my Greek I professor told the classroom. He insisted this as a result of the uproar that was expressed when he initially told everybody that they all must purchase the 1050 shilling (~13$) book from the bookstore. Revealed is one of the dark sides of this wonderful institution. The professors are all highly educated, such as my Cambridge trained Greek professor, but the classroom is mostly poor (but brilliant) native Africans. This is our Greek I professors first year at NEGST and so he does not understand the economic hardship that the class deals with daily. George (from the previous post) has a family of three children and has almost exhausted his financial resources paying tuition and immigration office fees coming from Central West Africa. Many students in the class are expressing similiar frustration. It was told to me that the class professor typically puts the course book in the library on reserve and all the poorer students in each class have to tango over it throughout the semester. Supposedly this professor did not get the message.

I, on the other hand, purchase my glossy copy (remarking how cheap it is to buy it subsidized) and have the luxery of underlining, commenting in the margins, and highlighting to my hearts content. Not to mention the luxery of not having to eat ugali every night, which is maize flour boiled to the point of evaporation and hardened into a white lump. I get to buy vegetables. Put that in your pipe and smoke it Martha Stewart.

           12 September 2005 4:12pm                                                    

The sun shone today first the first time. I have never seen such sunlight before in my life. The rays parted the clouds and instantly I went from comfort to agony. A multicolored shimmering bird with a hooked beak came to rest on a branch behind where Harold (from DRCongo) and I were talking about our hermenuetics class, and it seemed an adaquete metaphor for the place I am in: violence side by side with extravagence.

Chapel today was very good. Half in english and half in kiswahili. Worship here is like nothing I have ever heard. I have heard African music before, but this was different. Basically, it was the first time that I have experienced African christian praise without it being at a concert. It is the most gutsy, ragged, heartfelt praise I believe I have ever heard.

I am throwing effort into developing a practice to exist in God's presence. If the bible is true, and I believe it is, such an experience never runs dry. In the language of John "SkipAClass/TrustTheCurve" Tiemstra's Micro Economics 201 class (sorry Mom & Dad about the C), prayer and meditation on Christ yields no diminishing utility.

I mailed bugs to a friend today.

The bats are getting louder. I trust they are not vampiric.

           10 September 2005 7:47pm                                                    

I am registered for this first semester in five classes: Field Ministries I, Hermenuetics, Early and Medieval Church History, Greek I, and Sociology of Language. Yet I am learning so much here even without classes yet starting. It is very difficult for me to converse, often, about holiness. Often times I feel it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Yet, I am learning so fast the clarity and peace that comes with living in harmony with God. Rebellion from the creator is a catalyst for distance from his spirit. To willfully 'sin' (still dislike that word) against Him has turned out to be worse, not because of its legal definition or theological reprocussions, but because I start to feel precarious in my attempt to mirror His boundless attributes of goodness. Again I discover that my decisions are 'judged' TODAY, with the reprocussions not so much vaguely deposited in the ether of the afterlife, but more instigated in harmony or chaos within my spirit right now.

Yesterday evening I was picked up by an old family friend of my parents. He arrived with bright red UN plates and palpable hospitality. He brought me to his house and we barbequed. My favorite memory from the dinner table was "Simon, could you pass the goat?"

Dagoreti market pictures are posted using thel link on the left.

           9 September 2005 1:06pm                                                    

They always drink tea here. Very sweet and very milky. I prefer to option for the black coffee, and again I assume an identity of being different. Tea time today was twice as long, because it is the last tea time before school begins. During this time I sat and spoke with Dr. Frederik, a professor who teaches at Fuller Theological Seminary when he is not teaching here. It was the first time that I could receive validation for my reasons for attending NEGST, since few other conversations I have are with Mission Programme students or professors who can echo my desire to enter an environment of scholarship & despair rather than leave it. I almost cried when Dr. Frederik, my Missions Programme official, agreed that this school has something offered no where else in the world. Many colleages of his question his intentional abandonment of affluence and comfort for employment in a low paying institution inside a nation of cold showers, cockroaches, poor health care, power blackouts, and infested water supply. He agreed with me that to be here is not even a choice. There is no other way.

I thought my room had rats, but they turned out to be bats. Bats are ok.

           8 September 2005 6:00pm                                                    

How good our God is! How good and perfect this creator is! Today I had my advisor meeting that contained the entire group of incoming students. We went around the table and gave a short summary of why we were there and where we had all come from. The students ranged from Somalian, Ethiopian, Korean, Armenian, many Kenyans, and one from Timor - about 10 students in all within the Mission Studies program. The hearts of these students were poured out for everybody to hear and I could not believe how fortunate I am to study and grow with these individuals. The majority of these students have a burning desire to be an effective minister of goodness to those in disparity and simply seek to be enabled for more effectiveness. I am so honored to be in their company.

After school today we took the Matatu and visted a market and I bought a papaya and a pineapple. The market was one of the most experiencial points of my life. A thousand people all pressing toward the buyers, pressing their fruit, underwear, shoes, tea, and vegetables forward. I will post pictures within the week. One seller shouted out, "Mr. John! Mr. John! How are you liking Kenya? Buy my cabbage!" It wasn't hard to figure out who he was talking to.

Ever rode the Magnum at Cedar Point? That is the experiencial value of the 7 cent papaya I gorged on late last night.