Simba isn't here yet; he ran away because Scar told him he killed his father

There I go...I went and did it again and waited a week until I posted.

Sorry, to all you UBCers(if you guys are still reading this) this isn't the Simba Village update. I did go, it was amazing, i'll get pictures up when I can, but the internet has been terrible here, one whole service provider is completely out nationally, and times are just a bit crazy.

I interviewed some men and women with HIV today for 5 hours. I've written 15 pages of different stuff in the past 2 days. I'm a bit burned. I want the Simba Report to be as good as that other great Report, The Colbert Report.

Meanwhile, maybe you'll indulge in a little article i wrote about Edward's nephew.
Read as you please, and feel free to critique anything and everything. This I think may be published in the newsletter or on the website, so I’m sure it needs some work.
......

AIDS has brought great pain and great destruction to Africa. Even Pastor Edward Simiyu’s family hasn’t been spared. In 1994 Edward’s brother-in-law was added to the great number of lives taken from this great evil. Just two years later, the wife, Edward’s sister was also taken. This left Edward’s nephew, Collins Kitonga, as an orphan.
Its one thing to lose your family; it can seem as if your whole life has totally been stripped away. But there is in a fact a dimension of low even greater: being stripped of the life you lived and dreams that you had as a result of greed relatives. This is the story of Collins Kitonga.

Life was good for Collins and his family. His father was an architect, they had a nice home in Nairobi, and he and his siblings attended a good school. In 1994, everything changed. Collins father fell sick, and later passed away. They discovered it was HIV that took his life.
The family began the huge struggle of coping with such a tragedy, but things got even harder when the funds had just run too low and they had to move out of the city and into the country. The children had to give up great privilege and advantage of being in public school. They moved to upcountry to Bungoma. The hard times had only begun though. HIV wasn’t through reeking havoc with this family.
Shortly after Collins cleared secondary school (or high school), HIV took his mother. Total chaos and uncertainty was to follow for Collins and his siblings. They all split up, desperate to find a place to stay for the time being. Much of the family was anything but compassionate and hospitable to them. Many relatives took the land that the Kitonga kids should have inherited. The money that their parents had also disappeared from their inheritance. Not only did they have to cope with the fact that they had just lost their parents, and this was HIV that took them, but they also were stripped of their hopes and dreams of a good education.
Collins lacked the scores needed to get federal funding for a university education. The death of his father just played to a great a toll on him, that it was hard to focus and finish secondary school as strong as he’d started.
So for six years he was nomadic; he had no home. Sometimes he’d stay with his grandmother, other times it would be an aunt or uncle. There was no hope and nothing but great sorrow if he looked to the future. He only looked to survive to the next day.
Hope finally came though. Collins’ aunt offered to pay college fees. He applied and began attending Graffins college to get his diplomat in hospitality. This is much like a junior college degree in hospital management and administration. The greatest blessing Collins has seen in a long time came when he started looking for housing. He didn’t yet have the money to stay in a hostel, so he went to his uncle’s, Edward Simiyu, house to see if he could stay there for the short time that it took to raise that money.
Edward, the kind and extremely hospitable man that he is, saw it foolish that Collins go to school in Nairobi and live in a hostel. So Collins finally found a home with the Simiyu’s. It had been since 1995 since Collins had last felt the comforts of home.
The six years of hopelessness and the many days of pain and agaony were restored in just a few months in Nairobi. Edward served as a great mentor, a father, a guide, an advisor, and a humble servant in Christ to Collins. In 2004, within a year of living with the Simiyu’s, Collins surrendered his pain, his past, and his life to Christ. He had spent some of the past few years attending a few different churches, seeking to get involved somehow but it was just too hard to find a church home being on the move so much.
After the first year Collin’s aunt stopped paying for his education. There was little worry that there would be struggle. Edward quickly picked up the blessing of empowering Collins with an education. It was just another instance of Edward embodying Christ in Collin’s life.
In 2006, a new hope came. Edward has been involved with pastor training conferences all over Kenya and all over Africa. Edward also used to serve with the African Evangelical Organization (AEA). He led one pastor’s conference at a new school in Bujumbura, Burundi that a former colleague of the AEA had started. The school was the best that Burundi had ever seen. It was a four-year university that offered many different degree programs. Burundi though has the worst economy in the world, so school fees are very low. This university, ironically, has the name Hope Africa.
And that is where Collin’s next great hope came from. Edward returned to City Harvest Church with information about the college and offered some possible financial aid as well. Collins was the first to jump at the opportunity. He had the opportunity of adding a four-year degree to his résumé.
Edward and City Harvest didn’t provide just a little bit of financial aid, but Collins has a full ride. His first semester he almost didn’t get in, but because of all the work that Edward does for the university, they paid Edward a sum that went right back to them for tuition.
Collins is now in his second year at Hope Africa. He is studying Business Administration, still hoping to pursue a career in hospitality and hotel administration. Burundi is a French speaking country, so classes are taught in both English and French. English speakers are required to learn French and French speakers are required to learn English. This will be a great asset for Collins as he continues to pursuer a career in Hotels. He’ll be able to communicate with guests from all over Africa and all over the world. He’s spent the whole first year learning French and this year will start working on his core classes.
I had to opportunity to spend a week with Collins before he returned to college. He was truly a great friend and has turned into quite a Man of God. He is a progressive thinking Christian in a place where tradition is sometimes worshiped more than God is. He has great wisdomEdward Simiyu shines through Collins. A light and source of hope radiates off of Collins and that has truly come through Edward’s kindness and mentorship. When we speak of the Resurrection, this is it. Christ restored the whole world when died on the cross some 2000 years ago. He brought holy restoration then, and he brings Holy Restoration now. And he has empowered those who He loves so much to do his work. He has empowered people to be his hands and feet. This, is the good news. Edward, in Collins story along with so many others, has embodied this Gospel, and has been this good news, and you and I can also participate in this partnership with our God to restoring this world, to restoring creation.
Collins story is truly one of hope. He’s gone from losing everything; his parents, his education, and his future, to discovering that Jesus has risen. Resurrection happened then, and as you can see in Collin’s life, Resurrection happens today.

How bout them apples??

Not much has happened since I posted last night.

I have no profound thoughts to share (as if anything on here is really that profound).

I just wanted continue on with my streak, elongate my record for consecutive blog posts.
It’s been four days now but unfortunately that will be broken tomorrow, unless there is a internet connection in the bush.

I did finish a book and start a new one.

I did gain an immense amount of wisdom from Edward and feel greatly encouraged just to be in his presence.

And I leave for Simba Village Orphanage for 3 days in a few hours.

It’s sweet sweetness.

And hopefully this may create a bit of inspiration to go watch 2 greats: Good Will Hunting and Little Miss Sunshine.

-bc

Still Waiting for Prince Ali! Mighty is He! Ali Ababwa

That Edward…he’s got it figured out. Always full of wisdom, always full of love. The latest adoration comes from the way he’s raising his kids. No TV, no video games. Looking back I don’t know if I could have survived, but now being in the college mode and after finding my true love, books, I’m sure it is something truly remarkable to find this love at an age half of mine.
Jean (9) and Andrew (6) aren’t yet avid readers, but that is soon to come. I recently put Praise Habit in Jean’s hands and she did the first chapter or so in one sitting. Not bad for nine years old. The name Crowder had something to do with. These kids love dcb more than they do stuffed animals…really. I can’t even imagine what would happen if they actually did make a stuffed animal of Crowder.

They do own a few DVDs to still embrace the beauty that is cinema. Another of the many uses of a laptop.
We watched Disney cult classic Aladdin the other day. And then the next day. And then again also the next day. Andrew even runs around quoting Jafar a good bit of his day.
After watching Home Alone 2 the other day, it was good to be reminded of the States and all the craziness that it is: New York City, kids using Talkboys, and 11 years olds setting up complex obstacles in an abandoned house that electrocute and catch thieves on fire.
When I miss Kenya though, I can simply pop in Aladdin.

So much of the culture in Aladdin is similar to the ways things are here in Kenya. In fact some of the rural marketplaces in Aladdin are more advanced than those found in certain parts of Kenya. The little shops consists of a few pieces of wood as well as a simple wooden rack to place the goods or the food. You’ll see raw fish, cooked fish, sheep heads, goat intestines, fries, and every cheap fake China good you can think of.
It was so intriguing to sit there and watch Aladdin and see him dressed in his rags and still look better than some here, especially the Pokot.

And there are street rats, just as Aladdin. The life isn’t as glorious as it looks in the movie. And I’ve yet to find anyone who has a clever thief of a monkey that can communicate through charades. At one point in the movie a store keeper threatens to cut off Aladdin’s hand for stealing a tomato. That would be a kind punishment for theft in certain areas here. The sentence for stealing is immediate lynching. They usually don’t enforce such a harsh crime for petty thievery, but the citizens will most certainly hang you if you’re caught stealing a car or something somewhat valuable. And the police do little or nothing about it. I hear many times they’ll participate.

I also think that Kenya is just as economically polar as well. In Aladdin, there was the palace for the Sultan which was immensely wealthy, and then there was everybody else. Here, there is the government, which is immensely weathly, and they there is everybody else. There are a small number of wealthy, but the government really has some deep pockets. The Members of Parliament make over $200,000 a year (more than our House Members make I believe) in a country where most make less than a dollar a day. Today I went to the National AIDS/HIV Control Center (NACC), which is an office of the President. They are located in the nicest building I’ve been in yet. It was around 10 stories tall, all glass with talking glass elevators. Their offices are opposite of Virgin Airlines offices, one of the largest airlines in the world. The Director makes well over $150,000. And this is the government’s agency to fight AIDS. Edward said out of all the funding that goes into NACC, maybe 50 percent actually goes out to help those dying from this virus.
This country definitely has its share of Jafar’s.

Time machines truly do exist. They come in the form of whatever transportation you use to get from the West to a third world country. You can simply move, even in Nairobi, from the days of Aladdin to the present day time period of Toy Story. I’m surprised Disney hasn’t profited off of this ride yet.

…Wow, that’s 2 post in a row that have been a bit depressing (in fact maybe they’re all this bad). I’m sorry for always presenting the negative. Kenya really is an amazing place. I think these people could be the most kind and hospitable people on the earth. And there is hope. There is so much hope, even in the government. I guess I’m just trying to bring the shocking facts, the facts that keep my eyes staring at the ceiling as I attempt to sleep many nights, trying to fathom how such catastrophes are present on this earth. There’s more of the positive surely to come though.

In fact if Edward was the only source of love and the only picture of Jesus that came out of Kenya, I’d still consider it a noble country simply because of him.

ALRIGHT! …

I’m off to Simba Village Orphanage come morning. I couldn’t be more thrilled about that experience. I’ll be there until Sunday or Monday, so pray if you please!

beni

Livestrong Kenya: Not as a cancer survivor, but as a cancer preventer

First of all, Robert Kent please come join me over here, your help is greatly needed…

AIDS is truly a ruthless evil that is oppressing so many in Kenya. It is something that almost seems uncontrollable. Its more than just a result of one sexual sin but is the result of a whole system of sin. I heard one scholar say that he once went into Kibera, the slum here in Nairobi that is home to 1.2 million, at a late hour in the night, a very dangerous thing to do, and was shocked at what he saw. All of these young girls began approaching him saying “16 shillings, 16 shillings.” He asked his guide what these girls were doing and his guide replied that these girls were offering themselves for the night for only a quarter. They had worked other jobs during the day, but didn’t make ends meet so their brothers and sisters who they now take care of because their parents died of HIV. If they don’t do this, their family could starve. So AIDS isn’t just spread here through a bunch of a bunch of adulterers, but as a result of this whole systemic oppression of poverty. I believe that and actually question how those girls got jobs. Its next to impossible for a girl to get a job.

This post isn’t about AIDS though. It’s about a great evil that seems to be building steam (or more so smog)fast. It’s also about a great evil that can possibly be prevented if actions are taken and leaders rise up.

This posts by no means has any scientific basis, just theories.
So many people here look rather odd. So many people here are magnets for my eyes. I can’t look away from their faces or their necks. These aren’t the Masaai who have stretched necks and hold plates with their earlobes. These aren’t tattoo artists who have highly decorated faces. Instead, these are business men and women, slum dwellers, bus drivers, and everyday Kenyan.

But probably 1 in 15 or so has been tainted with a tumor. I know not what the cause is of all these tumors, but I may have an idea. People don’t do anything about their tumors unless they are very wealthy or become extremely sick. People can’t afford to get checks ups or pay for any treatments for cancer. There is no such thing as health care here. Even Edward who has been suffering off and on from pneumonia isn’t quick to go to a hospital. He just doesn’t have the time or the money to get a full check up. So these tumors, as you can imagine, grow to be quite larger.

AIDS may not take the most lives here in the next 20 years (in fact I hope that it is suppressed so greatly that it is at the bottom of the list) but if things even continue to digress, cancer may kill more people then. I’ve met so many people who are HIV positive and also have cancer. One has terrible stomach cancer that is eating her up. Another has lost an eye and simple covers here eye with gauze everyday. And I haven’t even had the chance to engage in conversation with some of these tumor infected men and women.

A great Christian, teacher, writer, activist, and doctor has enlightened me with a possibility of the cause of these tumors and many instances of cancer. His name is Matthew Sleeth M.D. and he’s authored a book entitled Serve God, Save the Planet (Don’t worry, the book was printed on 100 percent post consumer paper). He isn’t out to be an cynical environmentalist who has one more thing to say about global warming, but just simply presents what he has seen in his line of work over the past 20 or so years.

Dr. Sleeth was an ER doctor and eventually because chief of staff at that hospital. It was a quite an achievement for a boy who grew up on a dairy farm and had suffered from dyslexia. He discovered that his passion for people’s well being led him into a different direction that practicing medicine when he began to see an increase in chronic diseases such as cancer and asthma. He mentions these facts in a sermon he taught at Mars Hill Church in Grand Rapids: when he was in high school it was unheard of to have asthma, he knew no one out of 1200 students who did have this disease, but now had done many surverys amongst young people and found as many as 1 in 4 have it; in third world of Central America he says its just rampant; and cancer, when he started medicine, some 20 years back, the chances of a woman getting breast cancer were 1 in 19, but today are 1 in 7 and 1 in 6…He thinks the cause of this great increase in these diseases is directly caused by the environment that we live in. Because of the increase in the consumption of fossil fuels and neglect to environmental consciousness, he says, more and more people are losing their lives way too early.


Maybe you have different beliefs. Maybe you even have facts that can support your beliefs. But go sit a few hours behind a running car. Go sit a few hours behind a running 18-wheeler. You will get sick. And again, I’m not medical professional but if the Surgeon General can prove that inhaling cigarette smoke can cause cancer then I think its very possible that the emissions from our cars can do the same…the millions and millions of cars that we drive.
Sleeth even asks the question-Why are there so many Cancer Reseach Centers and not any Cancer Prevention Centers.

We may drive millions of more cars, but never before have I been so thankful for the EPA. The emissions here in Kenya are TERRIBLE. I should really take up swimming now because I’ve learned to hold my breath for longer than a minute. Only 15 percent of Kenyans drive, but you would never know that in Nairobi. Every road has an archway of black smog hovering around it. Ever been behind an old 18 wheeler when it turns on a green light at an intersection. You know all that black smoke that is emitted out of its cab when it has to rev up its engines to pull so much as it comes from a complete stop? That’s what most vehicles emit here ALL THE TIME. Kenya didn’t even start using unleaded gas until last year.

And maybe you drive a car here in Kenya. Maybe you’re one of the few who also actually uses the air conditioner and rolls the widows up instead of having them cracked for your AC (I actually don’t know if this “few” even exists, I’ve yet to meet a person who uses their air condition in their car). Ok, so you’re a bit safer. What about that 85 percent though that don’t have cars, who walk right next to the street, for there is no where else to walk, or who ride in the public transportation system, the Matatu, which always has its windows down and has seats where you can actually see the carbon monoxide caked onto the headrest. These people might accidentally breath in some of these toxins.

If Dr. Sleeth is right, these abnormalities that I see on so many people, these tumors, could be caused by all this sickening air pollution.

Edward even suffers now from pneumonia. He grew up running and trained to be an Olympic athlete (and nearly made it). He believes the health problems he’s having now could be a result from all the smog he breathed in (and breathed in hard at times) when he would run and train along side the road. He also said that his kids used to always be sick when school was in session, because the road ran right past the school.

And the government….I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START. Critics of America and outspoken reformers please refocus your attentions. The American Government is truly a Utopia compared to this political piece of flying toilet. Downtown, if you litter and a city councilmen or watchmen catches you, you could be thrown in jail, beaten, seriously threatened and abused, or robbed of all your money through fines. However, in most of the slums you can’t walk on the ground without stepping on a piece of trash. What hypocrisy! Why would they be so legalistic in one area, but then totally neglect the real issues of the slums? And another thing these heartless pharisees did was outlaw all public cigarette smoking on the streets. Why don’t you go smoke a pack of cigarettes and then go stand behind a Nairobi dump truck for 30 seconds and see which causes you more harm “law”makers.

They deserve a bit more credit, Nairobi was the most dangerous city in the world 5 years ago and I’ve yet to feel unsafe or threatened now, but some serious reformation is needed. Maybe Senator Obama can shift some of his focus on Kenya at some point in his political career. They’d all follow him in a heartbeat (he’s highly adored here, since his father is Kenyan.)

There are so many struggles and so many hardships and so many evils here in Kenya. Poverty, AIDS, starvation; they are all taking so many lives. What if AIDS had gotten more attention when it started spreading? Could we have prevented it? What if we had used our brilliant weather technologies and predicted drought before it happened and sent food to the people before everyone was starving. These are all HUGE What Ifs where we can second guess if we best used our resources and efforts.
Well What If, we prevented another one of these What Ifs. Here is an opportunity where with a little bit of education, support, and activism, an evil can be prevented from reaching the status of great evil or systemic evil. How amazing would it be if cancer were prevented from engulfing this whole continent just as AIDS has? I know there are so many HUGE problems in Kenya, I just don't want another to be added to the list.

What if we prevented yet another atrocity from escalating here in Africa? Would it give up the hope that change is possible? Would it inspire us that we really can bring the Kingdom and eradicate all these hells on earth, these hells in Africa?
Change is possible.

Otherwise…Lance Armstrong I have a song for you…Its Only Just Begun
…anyways, there’s my rant and reflection
I’m to interview many women from HIV support groups today. There still remains so much to tell,
-benajah

And again, to find a whole new way to live out your calling as a human being, check out Serve God, Save the Planet by Dr. Matthew Sleeth

And also check out http://www.servegodsavetheplanet.org/

If a picture is worth a thousand words...then these posts just got alottttta longer

I know you all have checked back here daily to see all the old photos and to see if there are any new ones.

Well the news is good. I finally have created a page that contains the best of the 1367 photos I've taken thus far.

I've only got the latest photos posted but more are soon to come.

Just go to http://www.flickr.com/photos/13757671@N07/

I'll post again shortly, stay tuned!

-bc

Don't Mess with Ches

As I continue to wrestle and try to wrap my mind around such big issues and struggles that most Africans face everyday, I continually find peace and wisdom. As I’ve mentioned before, it’s many times hard for me to understand this faith-healing thing.
As a logic-seeking westerner I think that the answer to such big questions is out there. I continue to read through a book called a Generous Orthodoxy, which is quite mystical in and of itself because it was written by Brian McLaren, a friend of Edward’s who actually sat in this very spot on the couch that I write this blog entry. I was recently reading a chapter entitled Why I am Mystical/Poetic. He includes a passage from G.K. Chesterton’s Orthodoxy. It reads:

"Imagination does not breed insanity. Exactly what does breed insanity is reason. Poets do not go mad; but chess players do…Perhaps the strongest case of all is this: that only one great English poet went mad, Cowper. And he was definitely driven mad by logic, by the ugly and alien logic of predestination. Poetry was not the disease, but the medicine…He was damned by John Calvin…Poetry is sane because it floats easily in an infinite sea; reason seeks to cross the infinite sea, and so make it finite. The result is mental exhaustion…The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits…The madman is not the man who has lost his reason. The madman is the man who has lost everything except his reason…Materialists and madmen never have doubts…Mysticism keeps men sane. As long as you have the mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity (12-13, 15, 21, 24)."

I hope and I pray that my faith continues to expand past what can be explained, what can be rationalized. I encourage my brothers and sisters who are also in this violent sea of trying to find logic in everything to ease their paddling and find peace on the waters of the mystical. For me at least, once I slow my paddling (and hopefully I’ll come to a stop at some point) I can start to look around and see all the beauty, all the wonder.

….I apologize that my entries continue to come slowly. I did treasure sleep a bit more than usual this week and also had my first run in with a bit of a health issue, a minor eye infection. All is well now though.
This week has been the best by far. As I continue to deny myself and be fully present in the ministering and the loving that is going on, I experience God’s wonder in an unexplainable manner.

This week I think I’m going to start some Kiswahili tutoring and also will get to start writing some reports and profiles on the HIV support groups. I’m sure it will be a bit different than Rent.

May you discover God’s wonder and his glory in that that cannot be explained.

-benya

Pokot Pt. 2: Sunday Bloody Sunday

(A continuation of the last post)
Apakamoi was our guide. He is Pokot and has worked for peace resolution amongst the tribe. He’s one of the few Pokot that has made it out of tribal life and into an education and collegiate studies. He’s worked as a peacemaker and peacekeeper with World Vision and other organizations. His story truly is proof that the resurrection happened and that the resurrection is happening.
I heard of hardship. I heard of death. I heard of traditions that promoted destruction and hatred. Apakamoi was the one of three children that were still alive out of 14. Many times in Africa, when twins are born, the one born second is thrown out. In his family there were 5 sets of twins, so he lost many siblings simply by this. He actually was the second twin born, but by the grace of God his uncle took him to raise him. Otherwise he simply would have been thrown out the window.
Because of disease, starvation and, just simply living out in the bush he lost most of his other siblings. Only 3 remain.
He now spends his time ending those injustices. Ending the fact that so many are starving and hurting because of bloodshed and war.

This began soften my heart. It began to wear away the apathy and the ignorance from being so far away from anything like this in the comforts of America. The rigidness and calicing aroung my heart, around my ablility to be able to feel, began to soften. It was much like being in a swimming pool. After you’ve been immersed for a certain amount of time the skin on the tips of your fingers and the tips of your toes begins to soften. It took this immersion in poverty and turmoil to truly soften my soul.
And this was only the beginning.

The next story is one of utmost agony. It painted a portrait in my head that will never leave my attic.
His name was Emanuel. The Pokot have inhabited an area that straddles Uganda and Kenya for years. So since lines have been formed, since borders have been established, its been difficult for them to stay in just one country because they have no concept of a government that can limit in such a way.
So Emanuel recently lived on the Uganda side. That is his home. The Ugandan side is also closer to a river, so the livestock, crops, and people are much healthier and plentiful. His wife was pregnant with his first child. The crops were growing well thanks to the unusual amount of rainfall. In Uganda though, the military gets bored sometimes. They sometimes carry out orders to a violent extreme or even act on their own will.
In mid August, the Ugandan Army began raiding the Pokotian village with great force. They were trying to force the Pokot back into Kenya.
I actually had the oppourtunity to cross over and Uganda and shake the hands of the Ugandan Army (some border patrol right). This men truly were careless and ruthless. They shook my hand with excitement, very happy to see a mzungu, with a backyard brew in one hand, holding their AK-47 like a 5 year old holds a water gun, finger on the trigger ready to go off and accidentally kill a few villagers and with flip-flops on. I wouldn’t feel safe as a Ugandan and would definitely feel threatened if I wasn’t a mzungu.
When the Army raided, they shot in every direction and at many villagers trying to instill fear in them so they wouldn’t return. Apakamoi got a call the day of the attack, and rushed out to the village with a vehicle ready to transport any victims of the army’s evil hostility.
When he arrived he found that Emanuel’s wife had was one of the victims of the spray of fire. He immediately loaded her into the small van with hopes that she would make it.
What was to follow is an image that will never leave my mind. Apakamoi called me over, as we sat around the fire, to show me a picture he had taken on her phone. They didn’t make it to the hospital on time. She didn’t get to see her first-born child born. She didn’t get to receive the unlimited love that her husband Emanuel had to give. The picture was a picture of her, covered in blood, perished as a result of evil.
A picture is worth a thousand words. This one though didn’t produce a single one. I had nothing to say. I had nothing to appreciate. Evil is hard.

Emanuel now was on the Kenyan side. The sense of community is so great that he had been given a meal every few days. He had the clothes on his back. But Emanuel had nothing else. He’d been driven out of his home. He was a Christian, so he only had one wife(most had many wives because the mortality rate is so high, that the men have as many children as possible so their legacy can live on). And the first child he was soon to have, was now also gone. All had been lost. All that he knew was gone.
It was a truly a divine decision though that he had taken the name Emanuel when he became a Christian, which means God With Us. Emanuel hadn’t lost everything. He still had his faith. He still had hope. And he had even more hope for restoration after he’d seen a team of Americans come all the way out to West Pokot.

There wasn’t much shape left of my heart at this point. Much had been broken. But I could finally began to understand pain that these people experience everyday. My world had been turned upside down. I could now be thankful for every breath that I am given. I could now begin to comprehend how blessed we are as Americans. I could now begin to Live, and Live for something Bigger.


This is only the beginning. I’ll be traveling back to West Pokot in mid October. Construction on the bore hole will have started. It will be a glorious thing witnessing the construction of New Life. I am anxious to return. I can’t wait to see these brothers and sisters that I’ve recently discovered, even if we are as different as night and day and live in completely different eras, maybe even different millennia.

(stop reading and go to the next post if you aren’t Rocky Balboa and have a stomach that is like iron)
Ah, and I almost forgot…The Pokotian smoothie: Since it is the wet season, they don’t practice the blood and milk ritual. They’ll eat real food instead since its available. I did witness (and videotape) another common practice though that again left me speechless.
The warriors cooked a goat for us everyday. And when they kill a goat, they spare nothing. EVERYTHING is used.
So, to kill the goat they pierce the jugular vein in the neck, hold the goat up, and drain it of all of its blood into a gourd. They had also obviously had done this hundreds of times because the gourd was just the right size for all the blood. The goat remains alive for the majority of this process as well. As you’ll see, if I can ever this video posted on YouTube(and watch at your own risk, or if you don’t want to eat in the next 24 hours), the goat cries out many times even though it has such little blood pumping through its veins.
What happens next? Do they keep the blood to make the meat even juicier? Do they boil the blood and mix it with other things? Why wait though?
They immediately starting passing that thing around and began sucking it down. They looked like a bunch of alcoholics passing around a bottle of Jack Daniels, they sipped it down so fast. Blood congeals quite quickly, I discovered that evening. They stuck their hand down into the gourd to squeeze out any clots and to better liquefy this new Bloody Mary concoction.
They roasted all the big pieces of meat. With the stomach, they cut it open, fed the digesting food to whatever animals and pets they had, and then cut the stomach up to boil. They also added the intestines (after they squeezed the crap out of it…haha literally) the liver, the heart, the brain, and everything else to boil. The skin was used as a mattress. And the bones, they would crack open the bones and suck all the bone marrow out. Mmmm, nothing like a good ole downing of bone marrow.
I didn’t eat any of the boiled meat the first night, but did the second. I really enjoyed the goat soup though. It was the water that they had boiled the meat in. The goats eat a grass that gives the meat a salty taste, so I overall believe that the Pokot are pretty good cooks, even though they love a big handful of blood.

So…until next time, that’s Pokot.

I’ll also try and create a yahoo account where you can see pictures. And the keep looking out for the Goat Draining on YouTube.

Rhythm is finally coming also. I should be posting more. As long as I still have the energy to relive these experiences in words.

Drop it Like its Pokot Pt. 1

I am deeply sorry that it has been so long since I have posted. I was in Pokot and think that I got stung by a wicked mosquito. Not one that carried malaria, but one that carried Writer’s Block.
But here we go…
So I just got back from West Pokot. You know, where the tribe that’s 400 years back lives, the Pokot, and they have 7-10 wives just so they can maybe have a few kids because the mortality rate is so high. You know, that place where they were recently introduced to clothes, and just 3 or 4 years ago the men wore no clothing. Still not clicking? We’ll it’s the same place where they shot all missionaries or white man that tried to enter 5 years ago….Yea I had no idea that such a place existed either.
I didn’t know that the RAV4 that the City Harvest team and I traveled in last Tuesday would serve not only as a 4WD vehicle but also a time machine. We could have traveled back a good 400 years to the days of the early American settlers first encountering the various Native American tribes of the East Coast.

The journey there was quite an interesting one. We made a safari stop in Nakuru where we saw thousands and thousands of flamingos, a few lions, many zebras, etc. The most shocking sight was yet to come though.
They speak of the road being terrible in Africa, which they are, but for me I got to catch up on some z’s. With all the ups and downs, right and lefts, and slides in the mud, my mind thought it was being rocked to sleep. And I slept well surprisingly. I even woke up many times with drool all over my shirt for my mouth had been bumped open and the slobber had shaken out like a Gungan king. Intriguing, I know.

It took us 3 days to make it to West Pokot, a province only 300 miles from Nairobi. The rains delayed us a great bit and we couldn’t get through many parts until the sun baked the earth dry. We finally made it there by Thursday.

Our mission in West Pokot was to establish contact with this warrior tribe, the Pokot, share the Good News, the Whole Gospel (Actually, that is a arrogant statement to say that the Gospel we were preaching was the Whole Gospel. There are so many layers in the scriptures and such complexities that our imperfections couldn’t possible bring every aspect of this Good News. More to come on that later, for I think I’ve exceeded my limit in this parenthesis).
I actually just wanted to take that revelation and give it its own paragraph. So here.
Maybe instead of the Whole Gospel I’ll call it the Transcending Gospel for it transcends over the then, the now, and the future. In Africa and in parts of America, it seems as if we leave a good bit of the Gospel out. We focus only on getting people saved for the next life. What about today?
Edward, the great rabbi that he is, says many times when we focus only on getting them to repent and ask for Jesus that we’re bringing them out of one hell only to leave them in another. We are to bring the Kingdom NOW. We are to bring Heaven to Earth.
So this Transcending Gospel seeks to not only invite people to Heaven tomorrow, but also to bring Heaven to them TODAY.

So, to finally answer why we went to Pokot: to bring this Transcending Gospel. Explaining that, we came to preach the Good News and invite people to Christ, and to bring them the source of life, water. We came to establish contact and tell them that we are bringing a bore hole, a well.(One which has been funded by thee holy and wonderful UBC)
A brief bit of Pokot history: they have been a nomadic people historically, because they live off the meat of the land. They’ve recently learned the beauty of cattle grazing, but live in a very dry area. To survive, like every other human being, they must have water. Many had a great source just a few kilometers away from where we were, a river, in Uganda but were recently forced out by the Ugandan Army. Many lives were lost, many homes were destroyed.
So now, after the raids, 2000 Pokot live in the surrounding area we served at, and they all share the same bore hole. 2000 people, one small well to supply for all. Some walk up to 5 miles each day to collect water. And with such the great influx of people, the well is experiencing great stress and could break any day.

City Harvest seeks to bring a source of Water that will quench the soul, by bringing a source of water that will quench the thirst of peace in their hard lives of suffering.

Many have recently been displaced, and have no place to live. The people know very little about farming, for there isn’t any water to water the crops. And livestock(cattle and goats) isn’t plentiful because there isn’t any water. The people are hungry. The people are thirsty.
The people live the same way now as they did hundreds of years ago (except they now wear clothes, which they didn’t do as of 5 years ago). There is no room for enlightenment because all their time is spent on getting to the next meal. There hasn’t been any enlightenment brought in because these people have truly been forgotten.

And as I mentioned, they are warriors. No need to fear though, because this sect of the tribe was the most aggressive, the strongest, and the mightiest. We had no reason fear in case of a raid, for these great warriors would protect us. Those village raids happen quite frequently. People really want cattle because they really want to eat, so stealing cattle in violence is another popular evil amongst the Pokot.

With all these things though, with all these great tragedies, I still wasn’t fully present for the first day or so in Pokot. It all seemed like a movie. It all seemed a little bit unreal.
I also was kinda bored. We were sitting around a lot in meetings that were carried out mostly in Swahili and Pokot. And, I wanted to have fun.
I think I had fallen under the spell of seeking and entertaining Mission Trip. The ones where we are entertained by the people, or are entertained by ourselves. We always want these ventures to be adventures, where we’re always having fun and feeling righteous for our pilgrimage to wherever we are serving.
But many times the best possible thing we can do, is just be there. The best possible thing we can do is just to witness, to see, and to breathe it all in. Breathe in the pain. Breathe in the suffering. Breathe in the evil. For if we are fully present in these situations, then they stay with us. Then we remember the smell of poverty. Then we remember the sight of malnutrition. Then we hear the cry of the oppressed, just as God hears it (Exodus 2)
I think I finally realized I was in Pokot the last night we were there. We sat around the fire waiting for our goat to cook, and heard the story of Apakamoi Rensen. The sounds started rubbing dirt into my eyes so I could see. My blindness to the suffering was healed and I could finally feel. I could finally experience. I could finally hear the cry of the oppressed.