Year in Kenya

Hello everyone!

Greetings from the United States--I am back home now! I just wanted to let you know that I still intend to post a great deal more information about the year I spent in Kenya. It has taken me longer than I anticipated to begin the process of writing about the many experiences that I had during the past year. However, it is a priority, and I will begin writing soon. Once I begin, I am still determined to tell the whole story. Please be patient, updates will come soon (a lot has happened since the last update, which was written about early September 2003!)

Sincerely,
Nathaniel David Uchtmann

Saturday, September 6, 2003, I traveled to Karatina, a small town that lies on the southwestern slopes of Mount Kenya, a little over two hours north of Nairobi. On this journey, I was the guest of the Karingithi’s—host family to my fellow Young Adult Volunteer, Sanford Groff. The Karingithi’s are neighbors to my host family, Mr. and Mrs. Muriithi. Consequently, during the week that our group of Young Adult Volunteers stayed at host families’ houses, I visited the Karingithi home several times.

I was invited to come along on a trip to Karatina to visit both parents’ families. Seeing as I had nothing to lose but time, and everything to gain, including both fun and new experiences, I decided to join them. This was my first trip outside of the city, and my first encounter with settings that would replace expectations with first-hand experiences. Saturday was also the ninth day I had been in Africa, and the end of our weeklong placement with host families.

Upon arrival, we went shopping in town, and walked through an open-air market for fruits and vegetables; the market, incidentally, is the largest of its kind in East Africa. Next, we headed to Mr. Karingithi’s homestead and met his family. We explored the farm, saw various animals, and heard stories about the family’s history. Mr. Karingithi then took us to a tea factory in town, run by the KTDA (Kenya Tea Development Agency). It took quite a while to receive clearance for a tour [I presume lest some valuable tea processing secrets be observed and exported ; )], but once provisions were made, we were in! Before initiation of the tour, we were taken to the supervisor’s room, where the logistics, history, and significance of tea in Kenya were explained. The discussion was laced with superlatives and precedents: this was the first tea factory in Kenya, KTDA is the largest employer of its kind worldwide, and the finest tea in the world is processed here. Needless to say, I was quite impressed! Although a propensity toward bias was undoubtedly present, my cup of tea offered no evidence to the contrary regarding the claim that this was the finest tea in the world. And though I am by no means a tea connoisseur, I haven’t had comparable tea before, or since—so I did all I could to savor every swallow!

The tour covered every stage of the tea making process, from the unloading of tealeaves to the shipping of the finished product all over the world in bags that varied according to quality. Larger particles meant poorer quality, while the best quality tealeaves had been pulverized into a fine powder. After completion of the tour, we returned to the homestead for lunch and a little time to talk. After lunch, several of the Karingithi children took Sanford and I exploring around the house. We followed various roads/walkways, and played in a creek for a bit too. I thoroughly enjoyed this time, and did my best to soak in the amazing surroundings.

…The blue sky, especially blue; the green grass, especially green; and the air…ah yes—fresh and clean. Sensory perception of a high order! Everything had a relaxed, carefree ambiance; even the air had a potent, poetic feeling of lethargy—lazy, languid—and time, seemed to stop. (Excerpt from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem, Choric Song of the Lotus Eaters)

There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;
Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
Here are cool mosses deep,
And through the moss the ivies creep
And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.
Why are we weighed upon with heaviness,
And utterly consumed with sharp distress,
While all things else have rest from weariness?
All things have rest; why should we toil alone,
We only toil, who are the first of things,
And make perpetual moan,
Still from one sorrow to another thrown;
Nor ever fold our wings,
And cease from wanderings,
Nor steep our brows in slumber’s holy balm;
Nor harken what the inner spirit sings,
“There is no joy but calm!”

I felt a world away, as if only in a parallel universe could life be imagined to involve pressure…Hearkening to a “simpler” time, a time when the day’s rhythms were in direct accord with the cycles of nature: planting and harvest, light and dark, young and old, innocence and experience, life and death. Pressure is alien to this atmosphere: the world is, you are. Let it be, and you yourself will be. Contemplatively viewed, using objectivity, in reality, this is life. In such order, there is beauty. Extensive beauty…Life is beautiful.

Well, how ‘bout it? What more could we ask for? Hmmm, I’ll just leave the prospect open to expound on the merits of complexity, effort, and action for a little later.

We returned in time to bid the chuchus (pronounced sho-shos)—the two grandmothers who lived there—farewell, and take a group picture. Next, it was off to Mrs. Karingithi’s homestead. Using dusty earthen pathways— sometimes eroded, sometimes steep, sometimes altogether separate for the two sets of tires—as a road, we drove further into the country and tea fields to arrive at the home. Here we received a full tour of the farm, which was quite expansive. We were shown the tea fields, and the manner in which tea is harvested. This particular field of tea blanketed the hillside, and stretched down to the valley below. On the other side of the valley was a similar field, with a homestead from which a loudspeaker could be heard. We were informed that this was a fairly common practice, and that the loudspeaker was used in an attempt to raise funds for attending school in the US or England. By seeming aurally discordant and out of place, this detracted from the overall aesthetic appeal of the scene, but it did nothing to lessen the scene’s picturesque magnitude. This tea field canvassed utter magnificence, a splendidly spectacular scene! Beyond it laid one or two relatively small tea fields, while immediately thereafter came the Mt. Kenya forest, progressing though numerous vegetative zones with increasing elevation up the mountain, and finally, the snow-covered, craggy peaks of Mt. Kenya.

Chogoria Hospital lay on the other side of the mountain. Its idyllic setting on the slopes of Mt. Kenya was no longer confined exclusively to my imagination, as it had been for the months leading up to my departure for Kenya. At the time, I felt I could finally sense the momentous experience I would have during these formative months of my life, which would be spent there, at my placement site…But alas, it was not meant to be! I was destined to walk down a different pathway, and instead of Chogoria, I believe that God led me to Kikuyu Hospital.

But at the time, this change in events remained unbeknownst to me, still three weeks in the future. Again, all was placid and serene. I felt compelled to lie down on the tea plants and relax there indefinitely. Such a course of action would have been safe for a bit longer, but not much—around sunset, leopards emerge; thereby reinstating the natural order, which reigns within the planet’s wilder expanses, and provides a reminder that mankind is not always “master of the domain.” Mrs. Karingithi’s brother told us the story of how he recently lost a dog to a leopard: he had the door open to let the dog in, but the dog didn’t quite make it into the house, because if the door wouldn’t have been slammed at the last minute, both the dog and leopard would have made it into the house. So after looking at the tea fields, we headed back up to the hill and proceeded to tour the local vicinity using various footpaths.

I don’t remember exactly how far we traveled, or how long we were gone. In my memory it seems like quite a lot happened, though events quickly blurred together. People of all ages, but especially children, came out to see the rare spectacle of wazungus (white people) walking around. In the more heavily populated areas, and especially Nairobi, people are more discreet in the way they notice the presence of white people—only at times with long glances, whispers, etc.; but in the country, (where such an event likely occurs at a frequency of once a year, or even less) it’s almost as if the circus or ice cream man is passing through and people make an effort to witness the event so as not to miss out on something exciting.

Many times I wonder what exactly people see when they look at me. Certainly I am seen as an outsider, and most times I feel that I am welcomed as such, but the likely reasons for this welcoming are sometimes difficult to reconcile or understand. All the sensitivity issues relating to human dignity are at work here; one receives the tangible feeling that they are being made into a spectacle whether they like it or not—through overt objectification. At such a time, quite a range of emotions is experienced, and empathy with minorities all over the world and throughout history is felt. But here, beyond simply being in the minority, it is to the point of being an almost freakish, peculiar aberration, and the sole differentiating factor that you possess is made explicitly clear to you.

I am not saying that such a reaction is a bad thing on the part of the Kenyans that I have encountered, or that they are liable for receiving blame. Curiosity precludes such culpability, as curiosity is the natural human reaction when something out of the ordinary or extraordinary is encountered. This reaction is critical to our exploration and development in making sense of the new things experienced throughout life, and finding a way to incorporate them into, or reconcile them with, our existing worldview. But with a lack of exposure comes a lack of understanding, and therefore an increased potential for manipulation. It is here then that the ugly potential arises from this scenario (lack of exposure to diversity in skin color.) Historically, in various forms, a lack of understanding has been used for expressly ignominious ends. Thus, for the delicate matter of race relations to be handled properly, and to avoid repeating mistakes, there must be thoughtfulness, objectivity, and as much empathy and understanding as possible; with reasoned decisions made, free from impulsiveness. I do believe that diversity has strong potential for good, with mutual enrichment. The curiosity exhibited when something new is encountered argues this point. It demonstrates that acceptance, and even inclusion, are almost immediate, and indicates that people are willing to embrace change when they encounter the unknown…even though not only what they know, but also their very being—character, belief system, world view—may emerge changed from the encounter.

Overall, we are overwhelmingly alike. Common experiences through our shared life on Planet Earth both merit and demand sincere efforts to learn about our fellow humans around the world—near and far, similar and disparate. Reaching out beyond our comfort zone, and stepping away from what is familiar and known does require considerable effort, especially initially.

But the rewards of this effort for both sides are far too great to be ignored, or knowingly bypassed. It’s just a matter of reaching out to others, recognizing that at times one may be hurt, but in the long run, we have far more to gain from each other than we will lose by remaining separate—allowing such arguably arbitrary xenophobic factors as skin color, gender, age, appearance, education, social class, culture, past misdeeds, sexual orientation, or religion to shelter, segregate, and isolate us from one another—limiting our mutual progress. We all have something to gain from one another. Effort amply rewarded! (Excerpts from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem, Ulysses)

I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone…

I am a part of all that I have met…

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life!

…The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.

…That which we are, we are—
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

I acknowledge that this is a complicated, sensitive issue, with no comprehensive, all-encompassing solution in sight. But I firmly believe forgiveness and acceptance are transcendent factors, which often act as preludes and prerequisites to love. Acceptance of others is an understood, logical, and necessary extension to the type of acceptance we all demand, expect, and need for survival—as I see it, a de facto part of life’s existence. Though it is easy to become discouraged, cynical, and burned out with such hopes in this world, we can always hope for, pray for, and believe in a better place where all is right, just, beautiful, and true.

From my experience, there is a distinctive feeling, which arises after taking rigorous academic tests requiring intense concentration and focus. This is pretty close to the way I felt. Essentially: “Enough is enough!” Looking back on the day, I felt as if I carried a week’s worth of newfound weight in unprocessed experiences. A good deal of the difficulty involved with attempting to process this new information came from the observation of a life completely different to the one that I had known. Questions arose about how I would fit into the picture, and what I could possibly do to “help” or “witness” to my fellow human beings living this lifestyle when I admittedly understood so little about the lives they led. Now, deeply entrenched in my mission experience, I still firmly believe this to be a question meriting exploration through both thought and discussion, though the answers elicited as a result of this exploration are bound to complex.

At the time, this scenario, and the degree to which it took place, was fairly new to me during the course of my stay in Kenya. I had difficulty synthesizing a clear theme, and one that could be reconciled with what I had known before. Certainly, I had not the assistance of such allies as time, retrospection, and repeated related experiences for use in contemplation of the matter. These complications were compelling, as they were combined with attempts to absorb, grasp, and make sense out of the new experiences. Consequently, sensory overload quickly surfaced, and, before I knew otherwise, became entrenched. Be this as it may…

There is a time to think, and a time to feel. This was a time to feel. Acceptance arrives that sometimes sense and rationality are not rendered readily apparent. Reality is not what you make of it; instead, it simply is what is. The capacity for cerebral contemplation is compromised by a recognizable futility…. A matter of the heart this powerfully becomes.

Stripped of artificiality, with the otherwise potentially compelling complexities broken down to the simplicity of an encounter, I find my place to be remarkably lucid. I go with what comes natural to me. Feeling the gaze of another, I look them in the eyes, and I smile. Most of the time, people smile back.

In such situations, lacking all else, (but arguably missing nothing because of the power and significance contained in this connection and the comparably superfluous nature of extraneous encounters) an indescribable, timeless bond occurs between the two people involved. Logically, as strangers, they understand nothing about one another; yet because of this shared smile, they demonstrate an understanding of life, and our place in it—which thereby includes an understanding of the complicit, reflexive recipient of their gesture. Avoiding all potential for pretense, the understanding is there: I know you, I accept you, and I love you.

Thus is my belief in the power of a smile. Smiles have an unlimited, life-changing capacity, tapping into the realms of inner peace and joy—both intrinsic and exclusive of external surroundings. Our ability to share joy and happiness with our fellow human beings is boundless, ethereal, and readily available at all times: through love expressed in the pure, unadulterated form of a smile. Such potential makes life well-worth living, as we can have an effortless impact on others, which is both positive and profound.

Always, spread love, with a smile. I hope you understand. I believe you can. I think you do.

Soon it was time to head back. We said our Kwaheris—“goodbyes,” and made our way to the main road, before driving the remainder of the trip into Nairobi. Along the way, thoughts ran through my head about the day’s events and experiences. I had a related discussion with Jeremy, the youngest of the Karingithi children, about cross cultural experiences and the benefits of seeing how people live in other parts of the world. To name just a few: objectivity, greater understanding for oneself, new interests, and an enhanced appreciation of the wonderful complexity and diversity of creation.

I believe such matters are worthy of contemplation and constitute an important intercultural dialogue. In addition, seeking the synthesis in each of our individual lives is a critical component of a core human experience: living in the present, while continually exploring where to strike the balance between the old and the new, the past and the future, the known and the unknown.

Our flight landed in Nairobi on Friday morning, August 29th. The next two days were spent settling into our apartments, meeting people, gathering a few supplies, and resting up a bit from our long journey. For various reasons (reverse jet lag?, bad pollution in the morning), I did not sleep well on Friday and Saturday nights, and even woke up early in the morning without being able to fall back asleep.

On Sunday morning, we traveled to St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in downtown Nairobi, where Phyllis Byrd Ochilo, our site coordinator, is a minister. During the service, our group was introduced to the congregation, along with a mention about the reasons we were in Kenya. We were to be split up immediately following church and depart with our host families, with whom we would spend the next week. For 8 out of 10 cases, this scenario came to fruition. For myself and one other Young Adult Volunteer, things had changed. Apparently, my original host family had left the country recently, meaning that arrangements had to be made for a new host family. The afternoon and early evening were spent waiting for the overdue departure. After dropping off the other YAV at his host family’s house, I finally met my host family on Sunday night.

Mr. and Mrs. Naftali Muriithi, an Organic Chemistry Professor and his wife, a retired teacher, were my surrogate host family. Especially considering the circumstances, they were very generous for taking me in and providing for me. That said, with the last-minute arrangements, there seemed to be an important lack of understanding about the circumstances surrounding the expectations for the week with the host family. Namely, the stated, expressed purpose of this week was for our group to get a feel for life in Kenya through the eyes of a family. This essentially was to involve continuation of the settling in to Kenya that we had experienced during the first two days, only this time with an authentic, exclusively Kenyan perspective. There would be plenty of time to rest and catch up on sleep, relax, read, and talk to our families. Such were my expectations, but disappointingly, they were not met. During this week, I got my first heavy-dose of exposure to the prevalent scenario of people eagerly and ardently seeking the chance to get to know a white person, which can be wearisome to the point of exhaustion. By the end of the week, I felt about as tired and worn out as I had at the beginning of the week.

There were bright spots though. I enjoyed visiting Mrs. Muriithi’s father, who was staying at Kenyatta Hospital, which I believe is the largest hospital in Nairobi. It was good to see the inside of a hospital in Kenya and to run through the thoughts related to discrepancies in international health care and considering my position in all of it. My host mother very sweetly asked me what some of my favorite American foods were, and made spaghetti one night for dinner. I was also able to visit a couple of my fellow Young Adult Volunteers during the week, which effectively served to preserve some sort of sanity, or connection to what was familiar. We actually watched the Lion King at the Karingithii home (see journal entry, Trip to Karatina) during this week too. I thoroughly enjoyed this experience. It’s hard to describe the feeling of being immersed in this familiar movie, with its African themes, and then making the connection that this is actually where I’m at—Kenya, I’m here! Wow! That’s neat!

Another bright spot was that I was able to use the periods of down time to get in some much needed reading and writing. I did about 50 pages of journaling in a few days, much of which was later used in the first set of journal entries (way back in mid-September!) Unfortunately, this amounts to more journaling than I’ve done since then, though I still have strong aims on soon changing this. On the reading end of things, my small book, Immortal Poems of the English Language, proved invaluable as a rich source of diversion and happiness. Bits of Shakespeare, along with the following excerpts, were especially helpful in getting me through this difficult time, and I enjoyed memorizing them…

Kubla Khan
Samuel Taylor Coleridge

…A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw,
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora,
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song
To such a deep delight ‘twould win me
That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air
That sunny dome! Those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes! His floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of paradise.

Epigram
Sir, I admit your general rule
That every poet is a fool
But you yourself may serve to show it
That every fool is not a poet

My Heart Leaps Up
William Wordsworth

My Heart Leaps Up When I behold
A rainbow in the sky
So it was when I was young
So it is now that I am a man
So it shall be when I am old
Or let me die!
The child is father of the man
And let each of our days be
Bound each to each by natural piety

Being newly away from home, and with the entirety of a year away facing me, homesickness was an important consideration, and something I was wondering when, or how powerfully, this feeling would strike me. Ironically, the first time I got tears in my eyes wasn’t thinking about home, but instead when I got a piece of chicken meat stuck in my throat on Saturday night. Eventually, peristalsis performed its expected role, but for a time I was quite worried, and that was maybe the first time I thought I would seriously have to perform the “Heimlich Maneuver” on myself! The next day, tears came to my eyes at a more “appropriate,” and less worrisome time, when I was reading emails from loved ones at home.

Reunion with the other group members was an intense experience. It seemed like we had all missed each other greatly and been through a lot. Thus concluded my first days and host family week. It felt like a month had already gone by, and that I had been on a roller coaster. I had a strong feeling that I wanted to leave negative things from first week behind, move on, and use the experiences to make me stronger and more appreciative of some specific things, but also life in general. In an interesting juxtaposition, I felt like after what I had been through, I had grown to possess a stronger appreciation for new things, places, and people; along with familiar things, places, and people.

Following the reunion after the week with host families, we reconvened as a group. The first order of business was to share our stories and experiences with one another. We all had a lot to tell! Our group stayed with quite a range of families, and in the process did a wide variety of things. We looked different, dressed different, and a few even were given Kenyan names. Sunday was used for catching up on new stories, but on Monday, we resumed orientation business and the various preparations for our placements. This period lasted for approximately three weeks before we separated and departed on various dates in late September and early October.

The schedule for orientation usually began early in the morning. The guys’ and girls’ apartments were relatively close to each other in terms of distance, but with early morning city traffic, it took a considerable amount of time to complete the pickup process. We were driven around in a vehicle owned by the All Africa Conference of Churches for the duration of orientation, which was approximately the size of a small bus. Most days, by mid-afternoon, we were finished with the scheduled activities, but with the logistical complexities of ten people having various needs, a great deal of time was spent discussing what to do next and waiting around for undetermined reasons.

Topics for our Orientation sessions varied considerably, but fell under the general theme of introducing us to life in Kenya, into which we were theoretically prepared to effectively integrate ourselves. We had six lessons to cover the basics of Swahili. On September 11, likely not coincidentally, we had security training, and then a free afternoon in the apartments for precautionary reasons. For exposure to social issues, we visited an HIV/AIDS orphan home and a refugee camp predominantly for Sudanese refugees. At the orphan home, we had the opportunity to play with and feed the wonderful little babies.

To fill out our passport paperwork, we visited the new US Embassy (moved away from downtown after the major bombing of the US Embassy in 1998.) We also attended a picnic hosted by the Embassy, at which I participated in a tug of war, and won a T-shirt for accuracy in Frisbee throwing.

Another Young Adult Volunteer and I attended a two-day session hosted by PACANET, the Pan-African HIV/AIDS Network, which was a pre-conference meeting to the major international AIDS Conference in Nairobi. It was amazing for me to be a part of such a gathering. The attendees broke up into various theme groups to draft portions of the document, which would be submitted to the larger conference as representative of the specific views Faith-Based Organizations had on how to address the issue of AIDS. I was a part of the subgroup that dealt with Stigma and Discrimination faced by people living with HIV/AIDS (PLWHA.) The chance to dialogue and discuss this hugely complex issue with representatives from across the continent of Africa who specifically dealt with the people living with this disease as their profession was, quite honestly, humbling. Contemplating policy issues, and deciding on appropriate approaches, which would ideally translate into direct action related to treatment—Wow! I’m actually a part of this? How did this happen? There is no greater weight to place upon the outcome of a decision than life and death, and I’m sure this was a unique experience/first-time situation in which I found myself.

Take ten missionaries from all across the United States (six from the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America and four from the Presbyterian Church (USA); five male and five female), with different educational backgrounds and career aims, put them on a plane to Kenya for a year, mix them together, and what do you get? You get us! The 2003-04 group of PC (USA) Young Adult Volunteers in Kenya…and just who are we? Well, it would be difficult to synthesize a distinct pattern based upon our outward appearance, and even our individual approaches to life, our habits, and our demeanor are quite diverse. Some might say we have a peculiar mix; without a doubt, we are all characters, and unique in our own ways. With this much variety, inevitably there is plenty of latitude, providing interesting group dynamics.

For myself, I know this was a period of fascinating and often unprecedented experiences. This was also the likely case for my fellow missionaries. Together, we were going through an important, formative time period in our lives. In some ways, we became very close, and bonded because of our shared growth. We offered each other a sense of familiarity and understanding through our similar backgrounds, as compared to the completely different lifestyle and surroundings in which we found ourselves.

But in other ways, the fact that collectively, we were still new acquaintances, and getting to know each other after many of us met for the first time only a couple of weeks before, was quite obvious. The distance between us most noticeably manifested itself when the entire group was together. Whether as individuals, or in smaller, amorphous groups arranged according to the situation, we needed our space to process what was going on away from the group at large. The group offered a security blanket, but this security blanket was understood to be only temporary; the comfort of being with a group of Americans you understood and who understood you was short-lived and ever decreasing.

For the time being though, this was orientation, and we were together. We participated in several group-bonding activities. On a Sunday afternoon, we traveled to Paradise Lost, which even included a reference to John Milton, author of the famous work by the same name. Here we had a cookout, played Frisbee, rode a camel, and explored ancient caves beneath a waterfall. The Thursday night before Friday departure to placement sites for some group members, we ate at a restaurant called Carnivore, which I believe is listed as one of the top 50 restaurants in the world. I had wonderful fresh orange juice, bread, cream of spinach soup, a bunch of salad to begin with. Then, for the main course (as the name implies—meat!), a bit of each of the following: Zebra, Ostrich, Crocodile, 2 kinds of lamb, beef, pork ribs, chicken, sausage and meatball, and even a tiny bite of chicken liver. Dessert was a really good fruit salad with ice cream. It certainly was an experience, and I enjoyed trying new things. To facilitate group bonding, plans were that we would share our personal stories with the group at large. Six group members shared their stories, but for four of us, myself included, history is shrouded, and remains a mystery to the rest of the group.

Tuesday, September 23, 2003. A day of change. On this day, we traveled to a place called Resurrection Gardens, which is a Catholic retreat center. There is a huge church on site, where several years ago, Pope John Paul II dedicated the first of its kind in Africa (may have been parish?) There is also a pathway, where various Biblical passages are written telling the story of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection in pictorial succession. The purpose of this outing was to allow our group of YAV’s time for reflection and prayer about the upcoming departure to our sites. I spent probably close to two hours reading, reflecting, and praying during the walk through the gardens. It was an intense time. I was the last to depart from the gardens back to the main compound, where the others were having lunch. When I sat down to eat, my site coordinator informed me that we needed to have a talk after I was finished eating. ??? Didn’t sound good. So I ate with a lump in my throat, not knowing what to expect.

After eating, I went to meet with her in a separate room. Immediately, she informed me that I would no longer be going to Chogoria Hospital. The explanation was that they no longer could provide housing for me, due to a last-minute influx of Americans helping out at the hospital?? So, that’s that. What next? Phyllis said that there were openings in either Mombasa or Nyanza (on the shores of the Indian Ocean and Lake Victoria in Eastern and Western Kenya, respectively) for me to be a teacher. At first I tried to grasp the first statement, and its significance for the rest of my plans in life, but the implications of the other factor—what I would do in the coming year was about to be decided in this very discussion—immediately rose to the fore as carrying greater importance. (Thoughts running through my head: “Mombasa…beach, hot, beautiful…yeah, that’d be great!…Nyanza…hot, remote, poverty-striken…truly a mission experience, that would be wonderful too!…But wait!!! Hospitals, neither one would involve a hospital…”)

So I said sure, both of those would be fine, but that I still felt like I should be around a hospital setting, and wished those possibilities to be exhausted first before I decided on something else. She mentioned Kikuyu Hospital. I mentioned Tumu Tumu Hospital, which had a nursing school, and could possibly offer a smoother integration for finding a role for me to play because my initial proposed placement was teaching nurses as Chogoria Hospital. She said she’d let me know. That was that. Everything was up in the air. Depending on a few phone calls to be made in the near future, what I would be doing for the next year would be determined. Possibilities abounded, both regarding location and activities, which I would be asked to do. Unsettled, to put it mildly, was how I felt for the next few hours.

Phyllis called and talked to me at the apartment later that afternoon. I would be going to Kikuyu Hospital, with an open-ended placement, essentially: to be determined once you get there. Instead of traveling to Chogoria early the following week, I would be going to Kikuyu Hospital in a little over 48 hours, on Friday afternoon. OK. What else is there to say? All in a day…

This day began like no other: chasing night westward, somewhere in the remote regions over the Atlantic Ocean. The clouds on approach were absolutely amazing! Once we descended through the clouds, there was England! Things did look different. The side of the road on which cars drove—opposite from America—immediately stuck out, along with the overall drab look from the unusually hot and dry summer, to which the dead grass greatly contributed. Heathrow Airport involved quite a delay, both in landing and then in getting to an open terminal. We said the final goodbyes to the contingent from Northern Ireland, with whom we had shared the Trans-Atlantic flight from Chicago. Now only 10 of us remained…the Kenya Crew!

Nine of us headed into London to see the city’s sites during our extended layover, using “The Tube,” or London’s subway, as our means of transportation. This turned out to be a markedly momentous decision, much more so than was known at the time. For what also seemed like solid reasons (snacks, etc.), I decided to tote my roller carry-on suitcase with me for the entire day—retrospectively an unqualified bad decision, as it caused me an inordinate amount of hardship and hassle. Heading into London, I had a somewhat light-hearted demeanor about actually being in this huge, cosmopolitan city with so much historical significance…all the while, the song that stuck in my head was: “London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down…” : ) The ride on The Tube, and the day in general, definitely had a surreal, dreamlike quality. Having a break from the cramped confines of the plane was quite a welcome relief, and the relaxed, settled feeling facilitated by this break was difficult to counter, even with all the exciting newness of the city of London. Starting a trend, I succumbed to the lethargic atmosphere and fell asleep on the initial train ride.

We got off at Piccadilly Circus, and then walked around forever, trying to decide on a place to eat. I always felt like I was in someone’s way or blocking people from walking. This had a lot to do with the unwieldy luggage behind me, banging around on lovely London sidewalks; but, motivating in a large group, and the alien left/right-of-way inversion, were also significant factors. We passed by dozens of art and painting stores, which contained absolutely gorgeous artwork. Finally, we stopped at a café where I ate a tuna sandwich, vegetable curry, and a big cup-full of fruit. After this pause, it was time for more sightseeing: the Tower of London, Big Ben, Parliament, and London Bridge. It’s difficult to remember how many rides on The Tube it took to see and traverse all these places, but it seems like quite a few! These rides provided a welcome respite from the constant movement associated with navigating the city, and I opportunistically [right, like I had a choice, and it was intentional : ) ] made good use of them to take a short nap.

During the afternoon, an intermittent rain began to fall, which lasted the rest of the day. At Westminster Abbey, the big group split up, and I went with Howard Dotson, a fellow Young Adult Volunteer who recently graduated from San Francisco Theological Seminary. We just missed an opportunity to see the inside of Parliament on the last tour of the day. I hadn’t given much thought to it, but missing the tour of Parliament turned out to be quite frustrating. The English Parliament is steeped in tradition, and as a student of Parliamentary Procedure, England is the place where it all began. Oh well, next time! Instead, we ended up going to a worship service back at Westminster Abbey. Both the façade and inside of this church were quite stunning; yet as a house of worship, I can’t help but wonder if such opulence was really necessary. I had a torturous time staying awake and reached a new high/low of exhaustion by falling asleep during times when I was both sitting and standing! After the church service, we walked to a Christian bookstore and browsed a bit. Then, at Howard’s suggestion, we stopped at a pub for a short break on our walk to Buckingham Palace. When in Rome, do as the Romans do; and when in England…well, they are known for their pubs! So I had an English beer at an English pub, just for the sake of rounding out the Day In London Experience. The beer turned out to be unmemorable, but its effects were quite marked, as shall be seen later on in this story.

Buckingham Palace was nice from the outside, but in a way I would have expected more—although I’m sure that the inside is quite exceptional. Now, with daylight fading, and the major city sites safely secure in the realm of memory, it was time to head back. 6:30 p.m.: a simple half hour ride in The Tube would get us back to the airport in plenty of time for our 9:50 flight. Easy trip, right???

Down to the nearest Tube terminal—it’s blocked off and crowded with people. Details are sketchy, other than that all the lines are down. Later, I would learn that The Tube was out of operation because of a huge power failure that led to a blackout in London. We head back up to the city to kill a bit of time and walk around; come back, same story. OK, now it’s become a potentially major problem with a wrench thrown into a busy city’s public transportation system. No worries though, plenty of time to find an alternative means of transportation to Heathrow—the main airport. The bus system is the next best option, and we find one of the famous Double Decker kinds heading to Heathrow. The bus stop is quite busy, and if memory serves me correctly, we fatefully just barely missed a bus upon arrival. We ask for advice, and are told to head for Victoria Station, which was approximately 4 blocks away, where faster buses go directly to Heathrow. It turns out to be at least that far, and by now the rain has resumed, completely soaking my things. On the way, we ask several people for advice and direction, receiving largely conflicting answers.

Finally, we make it to Victoria Station: a huge place overcrowded with people. They do have bathrooms at this bus terminal, but with the added catch that money must be placed in a machine before one can pass through a turnstile to enter the restricted realm of bathrooms! Since I didn’t have British coins, I was painfully out of luck. After searching back and forth several times over for a bus to Heathrow, we gradually come to the realization that here, a ticket must be purchased to board a bus. By now, it is around 7:30 p.m., and with the glacial pace of the long que’s (British word for line), this type of uncertainty is neither plausible nor practical. Also, even with the scores of buses, none seems to be going to the airport. We ask many, many people what course of action should be pursued, and hear just about as many different answers, which all led to dead ends. By this time, between 7:45 and 8:00, it has become obvious that our one remaining option for getting to the airport on time is to take a taxi, even though we have been told that this could easily add up to 50 pounds/60-70 US dollars. Desperate times call for desperate measures!

We split up to theoretically double the chances of getting a taxi. But to my thinking, this halved the probability that we would both make it on the airplane, and made it even less likely that we would make it to the airport together. I kept a positive, optimistic outlook through it all, and was able to see the humor in our suddenly desperate state of affairs throughout most, but not quite all, of the stages of this dramatic irony. Waving down a taxi—it sounds easy enough, wouldn’t you say? They were everywhere, but none for me. Nearly all were somehow full. The ones that were empty flatly told me No. Time after time, wave after wave, they drove past. Periodically, I’d check ~75 meters up the road to see if Howard were having any luck, but mainly to see if he was still there—meaning I wasn’t all alone in the big, turbulent, and suddenly somewhat ominous city, and that there still was a parcel of hope for making it back together. Approximately 30 minutes of utter, abject futility ensued. Desperately, and vainly, attempting to succeed in a seemingly simple task. Rendered incredulous, feeling indignantly anathemas about the obdurately callous nature of the system and how it left me feeling wholly impotent, the time steadily approached when we/I would be stranded in downtown London and miss the flight to Nairobi. Where exactly had things gone wrong…where was my mistake in all of this?

At one point, a taxi with room in it drove by. I waved, and (surprise!) was denied. But on down the street just a little way, it stopped. A man spoke to the driver, and then proceeded to open the door, letting in his companion. I asked the man a simple question: “Where are you going?” Looking me straight in the face, he thought for a little bit, then said No…No, turned, and got in the taxi. The feeling was like being slapped in the face. Something close to white-hot anger or rage seethed within me at the display of sheer indifference to another’s plight demonstratively expressed to my face by that man’s actions—encapsulating callousness, arrogance, and selfishness in that simple gesture of apathy. Ouch, that really stung!

The passion soon faded, as the despondency, desperation, and dejection of the reality facing me returned. A kind woman was found in the midst of the renewed taxi flagging efforts, with whom I was able to share my frustrations and ask for advice. She said that there was really nothing I could do differently, as people were only thinking about themselves because of the unexpected inconvenience caused by the shutdown of The Tube. Upon hearing that I was trying to get to Heathrow, she said it was a shame I didn’t catch a ride with the taxi that a man had stopped—minutes before, barely up the street, as it was headed…to the airport. W…O…W! You don’t say. I was aghast, stupefied, and amazed at the coincidental nature to which this all crystallized. A digression in the attempt to expound upon my beliefs is apt…

This drives home my belief in the simplicity of solving most of the “problems” encountered in our existence, both large and small scale. If we all would simply wake up and think of how we could be selfless instead of selfish in the activities, decisions, and encounters of our everyday life. Soon this practice could be internalized and become a cherished habit, bringing an inexhaustible supply joy to each and every day. When all the layers of life are stripped away, this then remains: purity of purpose in knowing that at least as much was given as that which was taken.

It’s not consumerism, it’s not capitalism, and it’s not a win at all costs mentality. It is the elevated and esteemed notion of community. Meaning: a house divided against itself cannot stand; united we stand, while divided we fall; together we live, apart we die. It is the natural order, both between and amongst species. Each species relies on an intricate, delicate, and beautifully poetic balance with the other inhabitants of this earth. Representing a profound truth from the germ of Jesus Christ’s teachings. Representing Christianity in action…where one lays down their life for their friends, does unto others as they would have others do unto them, and loves their neighbor as much as themselves.

Babies are born into the world, dependent on so many levels as to render the very notion of independence absurd at this stage. Through innumerable physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional stages we progress from childhood to adulthood: a state where the concept of independence has taken firm root, and gives humans a strong sense of identity. Self-sufficiency becomes ingrained in our mentality, making it easy to feel that though others may rely on us, we rely on a select few, or none, for our capacity to subsist. But to me, alone the transient nature of self-sufficiency dispels and obliterates the very operative principle behind “self-sufficiency.” Through the various stages of age, growth, and health, along with the daily needs of food, water, air, and rest we are only contingently anywhere near a state of non-dependency. Thus, with a firm impress, we can add community to the mold of our basic human needs.

Whether we like it or not, we are in this thing called life together. We go a lot farther by helping each other out. Community is reality; without it there is nothing, and reality as we know it vanishes. But it’s not easy to combat the selfish instead of selfless trend—it’s how the world works, is it not? Survival of the fittest? It’s certainly “easiest” to think of the self first, after all, it’s the self that’s doing the thinking! But, however habituated or familiar being selfish becomes, it still boils down to the decisions that we make every day. The selfish habit can be broken by taking a step back—objectification from the immediate situation, looking at the larger picture and weighing the outcomes of various decisions, and abstraction from the negative, destructive passions—thus avoiding immediate taking an action based on impulse, and instead acting out of love. Love: not selfish, …selfless.

Wet, waving at the (lost-track-of-the-count-long-ago)th taxi, pondering where exactly we/I went wrong, dragging around my luggage that’s taken quite a beating rolling around the streets of London, having to go to the bathroom worse and worse every minute (yet not able to because in London they came up with the idea that money could be charged for the privilege of going to the bathroom), ruminating about: the selfish tendencies of the human character, how could someone possibly be so mean to me?, and how we could possibly hear so many conflicting cases of advice and different directions…the day had ended and it was nearly dark. If a taxi isn’t caught soon (by now it’s between 8:15 and 8:30) we will miss our flight. Yes, you could say I was feeling something pretty close to overwhelmed! This is where the scene fades out, as I sit down in the middle of the sidewalk, and cry for the rest of the night. Well…fortunately:

I glanced up the street to see Howard running to talk to a cab driver. [As a chorus of Hallelujah’s rings out : ) ]--Not exactly, but at least there were rays of hope, as I headed over to find out what the deal was, my beat-up bag begrudgingly followed behind me, clamoring on the cobblestones. Miracle of miracles, we had actually gotten a cab! The cab was shared with an English couple headed to Kuwait, and their jobs as teachers. She was due to have their first child in several months. They had pounds, we didn’t, and they most generously, and cheerily, volunteered to pay for the cab without even accepting American cash as recompense. They were affable, friendly, and catching a 10:00 p.m. flight. Community at work! : )

Traffic was initially bad, but the congestion cleared as we escaped the center of the city. I made a humble request [with a near life or death (well, not really, but trust me, it was important!) rider and implications) that if possible, a bathroom stop be made. Although we were in a hurry to catch two international flights, my fellow passengers acquiesced: empathy and the sensitivity of “when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go,” at work. The designated gas station finally came, and, even better, the bathroom was actually free (in both senses of the term.) Relief! Release! Bliss! Picture Tom Hanks in “A League of Their Own” when he first meets the players—not quite that extreme, but close. Now, the world is back in order!

Of course, in accordance with the day’s sense of languor, I fell asleep when the ride to the airport resumed. We made it to the airport between 9:00 and 9:15 p.m. Not quite the recommended two hours early for international flights for our 9:50 flight, but under the circumstances, it certainly worked. We found Sanford Groff waiting for us pretty much right after entering the doors because Howard had his plane ticket from earlier in the day. On the possibility that we were in the airport, Sanford had the request carried out to page Nathan Uchtmann over the airport public address system. Oh, what a day! We made it through the security checks, met up with the others, and boarded the flight to Kenya. One day in London was enough for me! This day had provided quite a study in contrasts, between the friendly couple in the cab and my friend waiting for the taxi, and the selectively taciturn man who wanted the taxi to himself and the hectic, chaotic atmosphere I saw during my long, dreary, but in the end, memorable and disaster-less : ) day in London.

The first momentous moment on this journey came with the departure from my home in Sparta, Illinois. This time was colored by last minute preparations, attempting to fit a year’s worth of packing into three suitcases in one night, struggling to deal with quite a few unknowns somewhat ominously lingering in the near future, disappointment with the difference between the body of work aspired to and the one which became actuated, and generally feeling that there was too much to do and not enough time in which to do it. The high level of familiarity with the latter feeling gives insight into the relatively haphazard style I had gotten used to, along with my sincere hope that this year in Africa can do a lot to temper my frequently spur of the moment/last minute preparation manner.

The next momentous moment came soon thereafter, with the farewell to my family later in the day on Tuesday, August 19. Before the final farewell, we had a family hug. I pause to explore the meaning of family. In The Universal Declaration of Human Rights in Article 16, Section 3, as Proclaimed by the United Nations on December 10, 1948, family is defined as follows: The family is the natural and fundamental group unit of Society and is entitled to protection by Society and the State.

Family—this cardinal unit represents something eternally significant and transcendental for each of us as humans—present always, yet circumstantially, and only gaining situational manifestation. Families are families when love is present, and are ideally always fluid and inclusive. A family is transient, always in flux, and appears in various forms throughout most of our lives; but typically, and most poignantly, only twice: first as a child with siblings and parents, then as a parent with a spouse and children. Other times and situations are manifold between this communal existence and the other extreme of isolation. The one constant is the soul, variously striving for, and retreating from, community. The dynamic we call life is played out on the continuum between isolation and wholeness, where in our struggles, we frequently yearn for one when in the presence of the other. Yet struggles in life are inevitable, and instead of struggling against this struggle, we can find balance by integrating our experiences with both isolation and wholeness to gain a new appreciation for either one—to be happy regardless of our surroundings, and confident of our place in the beautiful, cosmic, inclusive, and above all loving, Family of God.

The next momentous moment came with takeoff. Although I have done a fair share of flying in my day, I still have a childlike sense of appreciation for the miracle of flight and the moment when gravity is overcome by the massive, hurtling projectile I just so happen to be on; along with a distinct sense of the feeling of vulnerability that typically makes humans naturally afraid of heights. But this takeoff was particularly poignant, to put it mildly. Feeling the plane’s wheels lose contact with US soil, knowing that this is the last time I will be on solid ground in the country I have lived in for the essential entirety of my 22 years on Earth…Wow—a moment that took my breath away! Fortunately, the story doesn’t end here though. Although I was leaving behind all that was familiar and known to me, life does go on, and the plane landed on the same solid earthen ground that I had left behind—just on a new continent this time!

Both the flight over Central Africa and approach into Nairobi most certainly were awe-inspiring. From the time when I was a young child on, Africa has fascinated me with the stories and images I have seen of it on television and in books. Watching Nature on PBS, it always seemed to me that things were bigger in Africa—not simply the animals, but also the expanse of the plains and sky. From the vantage point of the airplane, this impression proved to be well founded, and this was not a minor thing. Quite simply, it was a dream come true to actually see Africa firsthand, and Africa did not disappoint! Banking eastward on the approach into Nairobi, I was able to catch a glimpse of the revered, definitive mountain—Kilimanjaro. It was huge! The stuff dreams are made of; it signified its gigantic presence to me as a veritable snow-covered nose sticking up out of the African plain. This high made landing a momentous occasion indeed! Wow! Another momentous moment came with the first of what will likely be many moments, with the powerful realization, “I’m actually in Africa!” This particular moment occurred two days after arrival on Sunday when I was standing on the steps of St. Andrews Presbyterian Church in Nairobi and heard the choir singing in Swahili. I did all I could to soak up the meaning of the moment and appreciate how blessed I was simply to be standing there. I paused to gaze out on the city of Nairobi…this was Africa!

First and foremost, the purpose of this year is to explore the spiritual side of life—my top priority is to follow God’s will. Beyond this, these thoughts and expectations are by no means binding or authoritative, and this is purposefully so, as I trust that everything else will fall into place and anything I do or accomplish will be as an instrument in God’s plan. The approach/modus operandi involves using this year as a chance to step away from my life thus far and look at it objectively from a completely different global position and perspective—to just be, and soak up life. Hopefully, this will help me to focus on relationships, meet and learn from new people, and make prayer and studying the Bible an integral part of each day. I am sure this will mold my personality and help me to leave bad/inefficient/non-constructive habits behind and integrate positive ones into my daily routine.

More specifically, I also hope to evaluate the plans for the rest of my life and consider professional plans, especially medicine and healthcare, as weighed against other opportunities, such as a master’s degree in something involving in depth religious exploration or international affairs. Through my direct placement teaching nurses at Chogoria Hospital, I hope to see how a hospital runs, fit into the system as a contributing member, and learn how to be an effective teacher to those entering the nursing field. In addition, I am excited about gaining a more global perspective on healthcare through the lens of what I see in a Kenyan hospital. The African HIV/AIDS pandemic is something I am quite interested in learning more about and plan to research and explore ways to get involved with policy through Non Governmental Organizations and the United Nations. I also want to see, experience, and hopefully internalize the enriching fruits gained through immersion in the African lifestyle. Namely, the emphasis on hospitality as expressed in warm greetings, a handshake, and always being offered a cup of tea; learning the history, culture, and language; along with an appreciation for the more laid-back societal mindset that places more emphasis on experiencing life than conquering it.

In a more abstract sense, I hope to get a better feel for the pulse of the world’s heartbeat, as felt through each and every living being, and also make a concerted effort to keep in tune with world events and try to understand their impact and reception from an African/3rd world perspective. Hopefully this year will be the beginning of a lifelong relationship with the world’s people, regardless of country (in many ways, this is a continuation and outgrowth of relationships already formed, just in a more direct sense.) This is of paramount importance to me. We are all bound by the common threads of our humanity, a common plight as world citizens, and, in an even more cosmic sense (of import for a broadening of perspective), using Buckminster Fuller’s term—citizens of the universe. It is also quite exciting for me to have the opportunity to provide a window into a new and beautiful world for others who have never been to Africa. Summarily, I know this year will most likely involve quite difficult moments—both going through it and in returning home to resume life as an American citizen with a changed outlook on world affairs. But I trust that God’s hand is at work and all will turn out for the best.

Other, somewhat ancillary, but still very important, personal goals are to journal, stretch, and exercise every day—as I really believe these are essential for attaining the proper balance in my daily life. As far as sleep goes, I believe this is another critical factor, and my goal is to get on a regular sleep schedule attuned to the diurnal cycle and circadian rhythms [for Seinfeld fans, think of Kramer—no need for an alarm clock, just train your body to wake up at the exact second you want to :-).] Exercise-wise, my hope is that through regular physical activity, I will get into the best shape of my life, bar none. In particular, the sports to focus on most likely will be running, footbag, and football/soccer. I plan to do as much African dance as possible, climb Mt. Kenya, and read a considerable amount of literature. Learning how to cook much better and focusing on eating a healthy diet focused on fruits, vegetables, and whole grains is a high priority. If presented the opportunity, I would also absolutely love to plant a garden in the rich, red African soil. Plus, just for fun, I’m thinking about maybe growing my hair long just to see what it’s like??? While in Kenya, some of the places which I would love to visit include (within Kenya): the placement sites of my 9 fellow Young Adult Volunteers, Mombasa and the Coastal area, Tsavo National Park, the Rift Valley and its associated archeological sites, Lake Victoria, Ngong Hills, the Masai Mara game park, and Lake Turkana. Africa-wide, the list includes Mt. Kilimanjaro and the Serengeti Plain in Tanzania, along with an interest in visiting Uganda, Ethiopia, Egypt, Zimbabwe, South Africa.

Genesis Chapter 1, Verses 3-8: Then God said, “Let there be light.” And light appeared. And God was pleased with it, and he divided the light from the darkness. He called the light “daytime,” and the darkness “nighttime.” Together they formed the first day. And God said, “Let the vapors separate to form the sky above and the oceans below.” So God made the sky, dividing the vapor above from the water below. This all happened on the second day.

The ~29 hours between takeoff from O’Hare International Airport in Chicago and landing at Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi, Kenya were unlike any I had ever before experienced. We took off on Wednesday evening at 9 p.m. Central Standard Time in Chicago, and arrived in London early Thursday morning. After an extensive layover in London, our planned departure time was 9:50 p.m., London time, but due to problems with the airplane’s door we were delayed approximately one hour. We landed in Nairobi at about 10 a.m., Friday morning—2 a.m., Central Standard Time. Essentially, this meant that one and a half nights and one day became, for us, one and a half days and two half-nights. Added to the cramped conditions on the airplane—certainly not conducive to sleep—the aborted nights most certainly did not facilitate a restful state. A contradictory dynamic was also at work—sensory awareness of a heightened level, due to the seminal nature of the entire experience, which directly contrasted with utter exhaustion from lack of sleep and everything else that had been going on. Fortunately, I had a front row seat for all of it—conveniently located right next to a window. This all set the scene for quite an amazingly inspirational experience early Thursday morning.

Retrospectively, the best way I can describe my memory of this sequence of time is as a foggy, murky, hazy, opaque, exhausted stupor where it was quite difficult to know the time of day, let alone whether it was day or night outside the airplane on which the predominant part of our the time was spent. The muddled, confused nature of this state came into sharp contrast with the scene I saw outside my window early Thursday morning. I actually had fallen asleep around 4 hours into our flight, but ended up sleeping only a bit, for whatever reason (quite possibly the heightened sensory awareness level.) The feeling on the airplane was laced with languidness, along with an overall feeling of lifelessness. Following an impulse, I decided to raise my window cover to see what things looked like over the previously dark Atlantic Ocean. To my delighted surprise, a wondrously unique world met my eyes. Light emanating from the genesis of dawn had already pierced the horizon, and I was blessed with the privilege of watching a sight unfold such as I had never before seen on nearly such a dramatic scale—the separation of day from night. From a beginning where darkness almost completely dominated the sky to the near exclusion of light, the steady march of time combined with our directly eastward flight path to progressively draw the light through an atmospheric arc that eventually left the darkness confined to a small sector on the western horizon…before vanishing entirely. Viewed from the sky (in the vapor above with the water below,) this dramatic and vivid portrayal of our familiar daily miracle made Genesis Chapter 1, Verses 3-8 take on a powerful new meaning and come to life as never before.

PS A picture of this encounter between day and night is shown in my Yahoo photo album.

Overall, this was quite an interesting place to be as far as life moments go. The nearest I can come to a fully fitting metaphor follows, (conveniently arranged on a bi-directional vertical scale—and please pardon the potential portentousness, as I attempt ;-) to wax poetic…) The point of no return had already been passed—the key initiating launch sequence countdown had been turned, and the leap off the cliff had already come to fruition. Feet were firmly planted on the slippery slope leading to the inevitable entrance into a new world, yet this transitory phase temporarily truncated the launch/freefall, and for a moment (or 8 days, depending on relative position), time stood still. Peering into the luminous luster of virgin celestial sky, which soon would serve to surround with a prodigiously potent influence on the senses—waiting for the re-firing of rocket-propelled propulsion and resumption of the exceptionally powerful G-forces relayed from seat to spine. Slowly, one-by-one, snap the last threads of fiber from the chute, caught on the edge of the vestigial cliff-connecting-to-the-past, and steadily bringing ever closer the airy depths of the chasm below. All the while, launch/freefall/departure looms large. But somehow, in spite of it all, the Chicago settings and orientation ambiance became familiar and comfortable fast, and quite a bit of constructive learning took place.

The feeling of the Holy Spirit was quite tangible for me during worship on the first night and it was an awesome, rare, and somewhat surprising feeling for me to have a powerful impulse to sing from the heart. 2 songs in particular stuck out for me: “Here I am Lord…is it I Lord…I have heard you calling in the night” & “…I have changed your name…your new name shall be (confidence, mercy, peace, love, kindness, etc.)” For me, these songs effectively distilled the missionary spirit. As a missionary, it is amazing to think that I am a part of a crazy-style special tradition and continuum of adventurers and trailblazers. As a group of Young Adult Volunteers and Young Adults in Global Mission, I pray that we approach our unique and different situations with openness to guidance from the Spirit of God, along with ardor, drive, verve, fervor, vigor, zeal, and zest.

At the end of orientation, I had a pronounced feeling of excitement for everyone else and I felt as though we were going out to change the world for the better and do something truly special. Personally, even after I had heard about the amazing placements and opportunities for other volunteers across the world, the one that appeared most fitting and exciting to me was my own—teaching nurses on the slopes of Mount Kenya at Chogoria Hospital. I hope that everyone else has grasped hold of the role they will play in their placement site and feels a sense of privileged to do the work involved with their assignment. I pray that God blesses our work and helps us to effect positive change in the world to make it a better place for everyone.

It was a blessing to find how closely this particular program matched with my personal approach and belief about the most effective method of ministering to people. Although various theories and practices abound both within Christianity and amongst world religions regarding mission, the overarching emphasis in this program is on sharing. The communication flow is two-way; frequently it’s more about receiving than giving…and always there is sharing. As missionaries, we are student teachers—constantly learning, while doing all we can to share our stories and witness, with the hope that we can enrich others, as we are sure to be enriched.

During orientation, my understanding of my missionary role was completely changed, and also enhanced, when I was explicitly informed that we could not provide financial support to anyone in our country of service during the year. Prior to this illumination, I had presumed that in certain situations I would be able to serve others’ needs by assuming the position of a benefactor. Seemingly, this is the “best” way to help, is it not? Quite often, indeed it is not because of the complications involved, as the following points illustrate. First, such a scenario sets up a power dynamic. Dependency is created, and this precludes a multitude of possibilities for fruitful growth. Either as missionaries or as Americans, once dependency is a factor, we are viewed as “liberators,” thus denying the possibility for self-sufficiency on the part of the residents in the country of mission. We can no longer relate to them on neutral terms, and the potential growth involved through sharing common ground is effectively eliminated. Second, from a continuance standpoint, such support makes it difficult, if not impossible, for future missionaries to share their witness free from the expectations that similar efforts must continue. Sharing of God’s love is then easily associated or equated with money, and this is an undeniably dangerous scenario. Finally, the burden of trying to solve the complex problems that are found in countries with lower standards of living through personal financial means can easily become overwhelming to individuals, with recognition that “some” can never be enough.

This recognition is initially quite difficult to process, and being restricted from helping when a potential need is identified is not easy to accept. But, as missionaries, we must recognize the larger framework in which we operate and leave such matters to agencies with a more comprehensive grasp of the situation’s scope. The bottom line is that there is inequitable distribution of resources, but we must leave their handling and redistribution to Non-Profit Organizations and Non-Governmental Organizations—such as the church. With fervor, we can hope and pray that through cross-cultural sharing and increasing awareness of the living condition of people across the world, the significant change needed for a humanitarian, non-hypocritical or elitist, and ultimately, model Christian community, can be implemented. Though difficult at first, this informed view is good in the long run because it gives an enhanced awareness of reality and allows for informed activism and doing what one can through supporting larger causes.

It was promised that the money raised this summer in support of my mission trip would be directed to the place where the greatest need was identified. This money will still be given out in such a place, it is simply the case now that the individual responsibility has been removed and a larger cause will be directly supported through charitable causes and church programs in Kenya.

Sincerely, Thank You, to everyone in the United States who gave me support and helped make this mission trip become a reality. Your encouragement, prayers, and advice were invaluable to me and helped give me a strong sense that the Spirit of God was, and is, at work through this mission. Above all, the love shown means more to me than I can put into words. I hope that I can reciprocate by giving my loved ones (both at home in the United States and throughout the world) a lens on the world from my perspective, through which to directly view otherwise potentially inaccessible regions and lifestyles. To give some sense of my feelings a few weeks ago, right before the departure date for Orientation, I would like to expound on a few thoughts that I had intended to possibly share at a “going away get together” for family at my parents’ house on Saturday, August 16. No small surprise, an apt moment to speak never arose, and the thoughts remained my own…until now. Retrospectively, I guess it’s more about making it happen instead of waiting for the perfect a time to come-seizing the day/carpe diem! Waving the flag for oration like it’s going out of style! : ) Following are my thoughts circa 8-16-03:

“It’s wild to think about what I’m going to do in the near future-in a few days I’ll be gone from here for a whole year, in 11 days I’ll be in Kenya! I wanted to touch a bit on the changes I’ll experience: I will most likely come back a changed person in many ways, but it’ll still be me, just more informed, and I’m resolute about exposing myself to the “world out there” and doing all I can to help people. A year is a very long time, so if by chance anything should happen either here or there, I want you all to know that I love you very much and am grateful for all you have done for me. I’m going to miss you, but rest assured that I will be thinking of you a lot and take a part of each of you with me.”

Now that I’m in Kenya, trust that it is true that I miss you all and a part of you is with me as I enter each day into a world of new experiences. For me, this is an unprecedented opportunity to do something exciting and adventuresome. I go as a representative of the family, friends, church, and community I have known and been a part of thus far in my life. I am eager to share my experiences with you, during the course of this year through this medium, and directly when I return home. Hopefully this web-log will give you the opportunity to know me better-both who I am and what I am most passionate about. I will use it to give an honest representation of the thoughts I have and the experiences I encounter, and to pour out the feelings of my heart. Again, thank you for taking the time to visit this website to share in the experiences of my mission trip to Kenya. I appreciate and love you.

Most Sincerely,
Nathaniel David Uchtmann