The Crossing

This is the only adventure that I have felt that I could blog about that was exciting enough to talk about.  Not that I have had a boring past four months.  It is just that everything that I have participated in has been what takes place on a daily basis here.  Or, is something that someone else has blogged about already.

The other day, Daniel took two of the young men that have just joined TI (Mark and Derrick), and me out on a tour of Shimo La Tewa, the slum area in Kitale that is just about in our backyard.  While we didn't enter the heart of Shimo, we crossed the bridge that leads you to that heart.  There is a river that runs under the bridge.  From that river, people gather the water they need for drinking, they will gather water to do laundry, or bathe.  As we prepared to cross back over the bridge to follow the roads out of Shimo, we were discussing different ways that people could access the water without having to go down the ravine to fetch it.  There was talk of a pulley system, or of a windmill that could gather the water to bring it to the bridge level.

As we turned to make our way across, we heard the approaching of chanting from a circumcision party.  The four of us turned to look, and saw that the party was going to be crossing the same bridge as we were. Daniel promptly told us that we had to get across.  While we didn't run, we carried ourselves as fast as we could back to the safety of the other side.  No one looked back and a sense of panic overtook us.  The sound of what seemed like one hundred men chanting was overwhelming.

As we crossed the bridge, I started to feel dizzy.  I wanted to get across as quickly as possible.  I kept thinking, "Just get across the bridge.  Just get across the bridge."  Daniel turned to me and said, "Good thing there are no women with us!"  We could hear the group closing in on us.  Once we got to the other side, we pulled off to one side to let the group pass.

Much to our suprise, the group consisted of about twenty to thirty teen-aged kids and a few people in their early twenties.  Straggling along behind the group were two elderly ladies, who were very much intoxicated on the local brew.  As they passed us, they said in Swahili, "We are going to cut someone so that we can be healed!"  Daniel quickly assessed that there was a demonic attachment to the parade and the whole tribal tradition of circumcision.  Even Mark and Derrick said that they were experiencing something weird and demonic.

This was an eye-opening experience for me.  It is one that I am able to laugh about.  We have had discussions about the dark side of these circumcision parties.  I have seen the parades in town, and have had other parties pass me on the street.  This was the first one that had affected me in anyway.  Some of you might be wondering what my next course of action will be with this group of circumcisers (for lack of a better term).  I won't be doing anything with them.  I will be part of the process that teaches the children that we interact with on a personal level that some tribal traditions are good, and others can be met through other means.  This is a country that claims to be eighty percent Christian.  It is not up to me to interfere with traditions on a large scale.  Especially, when there are many traditions in the North American culture that are probably just as bad.

There are many activities and rituals that we participate in, and many of them are just as detrimental to our spiritual, and physical well being as what the people of Kenya participate in.  We might think about how archaic the practices and traditions of Kenya are, or other parts of Africa for that matter.  However, are we really any different?  Are the gods that we appease any less primitive?  Are our practices and traditions any less archaic?

It will be something for me to ponder as I return to Canada this week and face the rush of Christmas and New Year's Eve.

Obama-mania & Waldo

I have decided to have a little fun with this blog. In light of the recent American election, and all of the Obama-mania that has taken place in Kenya. Everywhere we have gone, people have asked if we were going to vote for Obama (before the election) and then ask us what we think of Obama. I have had to tell people that I really don’t care about Obama, because I am Canadian. I would not vote for him, because I am Canadian. They still ask my opinion, and I have to once again say that I do not know about American politics, and therefore, cannot form an opinion.

The people, and the politicians here believe that tourism is going to increase, and that once the president-elect takes office, that he will increase trade with Kenya, and Africa. The reason for the hype is because his father was from Kenya. It will be interesting to see, just how accurate their dreams are going to be. It will also be interesting to see how they will react, if their dreams do not come true.

There is a Kenyan music artist here who has written a song called “Obama Be Thy Name.” We are also hearing on the radio the “Barak Obama” song that talks about painting the Whitehouse black. One of the national newspapers in Kenya gave away free calendar posters called “The Year of Obama” and begins with the month of November. You can buy Barak Obama key chains, posters, and other paraphernalia.



Obama-mania has caused those of us in the TI compound to come up with a few “Obama-isms” of our own. We talk about how we like “Barak-and Roll” music. When something exciting is happening we say “Barak on!” I think I even heard someone make a reference to an “Obama-nation.” Please understand that we are not bashing the newly elected president. We are just feeling like we are caught between “Barak and a hard place” when it comes to celebrating his victory as someone who came from very little, to the 44th president of the United States, and yet is seemingly worshipped as some kind of god.

Now to return to things I am here to do in Kenya. I love hanging out with the kids here at out different projects, and meeting different kids on our journeys. One of the first places I visited here (with the rest of the TI team) was a school. I had fun with the kids by jumping with them as they surrounded me and jumped themselves. As I jumped, I would bend my knees to make myself shorter as I jumped. Once I got as low as my legs would allow, I duck-walked around the yard with them. I then extended my hand to shake hands with one of the children. As I shook their hand, I would stand up as though the hand shaking would act a jack. The jumping would begin again when I was back to “full height.”

I had my picture taken in the crowd of children, and have included two levels of a “Where’s Waldo” type game for you to pass your time away. Have fun, and I will post more of what is happening under African skies again later.

A Realization of Purpose

We were discussing in our group devotion time about doing more than talking about our faith, and what it means to serve those around us and meet their needs. So many times we are asked what it is that we do when we participate in a mission trip. I have had people ask me what I am doing in Kenya. I came to the realization the other morning, that what I do should not be talked about. I should not provide a list of the things TI does. If you want to know what it is that I believe, if you want to know what it is that I do, go out into the community and serve those who are in need. I am sure that there are people who live in your community that need groceries purchased in order to survive the week. There are students in your area that need help with their school work, but cannot afford a tutor. If you would like, I am sure I could show you examples when I am around in Canada, or you can come here and get a feeling for it yourself. Just don't expect to leave what you do here, in Kenya. Take what you do back home with you and learn how to apply what you do in a third world country, to a first world country.

Some want to know if we are saving souls for God. The answer to that is yes, but not in the way that you are expecting us to. We are participating in God's plan for restoring of all of creation to Him. He is not interested in a person's spirit only. He is not going to raise their ghost so that a person can play a harp for him while sitting on a cloud. God is interested in the entire person, body and soul. God wants to have creation back to the perfect state it was in before sin entered the world. We all have the chance to operate in the plan.

Jesus was doing more than just making sure that people were going to heaven. He was restoring them to the Father so that creation was just a little bit better than it was. He was asked by John the Baptist, through his disciples, if Jesus was the one to be expected. Jesus did not respond by telling him how many people he had ushered into heaven when they died. His response talked about the sick that were healed. If you want to know if I am making a difference in the spiritual lives of others, I will ask you what you see when you look at the TI site. Children are being fed and educated, their widowed mothers and grandmothers are earning a living. Street girls are being taken off the street and given a home to live in, food in their bellies, an education, and are surrounded by people who love them for who they are, not what they can get from them.

Everything in life is spiritual, because God is in all and through all. When someone becomes a little bit more whole because of a need being met in their physical life, their spiritual life is affected too. We read in the book of Hebrews that the great heroes of faith did not see the end result of what they were doing. I will not see the end result of what I am doing while I am still alive, but I know that everything that I am doing is for the benefit of God's Kingdom when it is restored to the proper design.



I could never understand why I was feeling so awkward when people asked me what I would be doing. I now understand the reason. I had not contributed to the needy. I had given money to things, and I had provided clothing to organizations, but I never stepped into the lives of those who were in need and truly saw their need. My role here is still developing, but I no longer am ashamed that I didn't know how to answer people. For those of you who pray for me, continue to ask God to show me what it is that I am doing here. I need guidance on how to come along side the interns and help them understand their purposes when they are here and when they return to their homes.

I may be opening a can of worms for some people. However, as I stated in my blurb about me, I want to encourage people to make a difference in the world, and see the world as something bigger than their individual stories. I think that we as North Americans and Western culture people, have become too self absorbed. We need to look beyond ourselves and start making a difference in the lives around us.

Until next time....Grace and Peace.

One Week Under African Skies

At the time I originally wrote this, I had been in Kenya for a week. It has taken almost another week to get this posted thanks to the frustrations of internet connections (or, lack thereof)...

It has been one week since I landed in Nairobi. I hit the ground running, as I got a chance to visit with most of the projects supported in one fashion or another by Transformed International (TI). There are still a lot of adjustments to make to my new home here in Kitale. Not the least of which is recognizing that Kitale is now my home. I am feeling somewhat disjointed, but am slowly fitting into the culture here. The language barrier is huge. All I can do is sit and listen to the Swahili being spoken around me, and ask for translation if I think that I should know what is being said.

On Saturday, we went to visit Hope Bright Future (HBF), which is the children’s home that TI sponsors. As soon as we rode in on the back of the boda bodas (bicycle taxi’s), the children came running to meet us. Two boys immediately latched on to me, and proceeded to treat me as their own personal mzungu (white person) jungle gym. The first child to greet me and tell me his name was Molongo. I picked him up and he proceeded to ask the kids if they knew who I was. When they told him “No” he proudly told them that he did know me, and that my name was Sean.

The second boy, John, clung to me for the entire day, and only let go when it was time to take lunch, and when it was time to go. The rest of the day was spent with him sitting on my lap, walking as he held my hand, jumping up and hooking his legs around mine so that he could hang upside down while I walked (a very difficult task to accomplish I might add). The older girls in the home treated us to a couple of dramas, some poems, and a few songs. They were very good. One of the dramas was called “The Stupid Maid.” It was about a girl who was hired as a maid, but knew nothing of what is meant to be a maid, or how to do anything. She was shown around the house and how things worked, and what their purpose was. She was told that the fridge was for making warm things cold. When the lady who hired her left for the day, the stupid maid found that the baby was warm and remembered, “Madam said that if something is warm, it is to go into the fridge.” The maid promptly put the baby in the fridge. When the mother came home, she had to call the police to come and arrest her stupid maid, because the baby did not survive the stay in the fridge. It was a rather morbid, but funny story none-the-less.

Today (Wednesday), Daniel and I went to the street girls’ home to make a delivery, and to see how they are doing. We sat in on their sewing class for an hour, and watched as they each took turns naming the parts of the sewing machine and the tools that go with sewing, as well as watching them thread the machines. Daniel said that they are more attentive to the seamstress than they are to their teacher for their schooling. It was good to see them doing so well. It is not an easy life that they have left behind, and the rules for them are pretty strict. One of the original street girls, who left the project just 20 days in, begged Daniel, Meredith and Anne to take her back. She said that she realized that she truly was alone on the streets and that she made a big mistake in leaving. She returned to the NEEMA (pronounced nay-ma) home yesterday to even stricter rules than that of her house mates, and knows that this is her final chance to make a better life for herself. If she leaves now, or in the future, she will not be allowed back ever.

There is so much to report on, but I can’t put it all down. I will try and update more quickly in the future, provided I can get the internet to co-operate with me.

It is there, if we dare, or care, to look

I was talking with my fiancee on MSN (as we so often do because she is in Kenya now).  We were discussing different items that are in the news, and what makes the news in Canada and the U.S. and what makes the news in Kenya.  As small as the world has become, thanks to the travel industry and the internet, it is still a very large planet when it comes to news items.

The team at Transformed International is plugged into "Google News" feeds, and receives reports on everything that is happening in Kenya.  Thanks to the internet, it is so much easier to find out what is happening in the world if we dare to look, or even care about what is happening beyond our front door.  National news broadcasts are only going to give you what they deem to be news worthy, or what they think their audience will find interesting.  I understand that there are restrictions to the number of stories that can be told.  I understand that there may not be an interest in tourism rates increasing or decreasing in certain parts of the world.  Not everyone wants to know how the football (soccer) teams are doing in Tanzania.  I get that.

If you scan the headlines, you can find stories about people who need a better deal in life.  I have posted a link on this blog that tells the story of what is happening in the country I am about to enter.  It sheds a little light on the uphill battle that faces Kenya.  This story is the same story posted by the founder of TI on his blog.  I have also posted a link for those of you outside Canada, who may not have heard about a brutal and disgusting attack that took place on a bus traveling across the prairies just the other day.  I post it not to sensationalize the story, but to make you aware that Canada is not always the safest place to live.  Even though Canada is a relatively safe place to live, there are still actions by people that make us pause and wonder what goes through someone's head sometimes.

May you pause, and take time to be thankful for what you have.  May you come to realize that as small as the world is, it is still bigger than you.  May you find a way to get involved in a cause that is bigger than you.

Teen prostitution in Kenya

Stabbing on a bus in Manitoba

Ur of the Chaldeans

As I prepare to embark on a new chapter in life, I have been thinking about what it means to truly leave "the home of your family."  What I am doing is not a simple move across town.  It is not a move across the province, country, or even continent.  I am leaving to live half-way around the world.  I am leaving the "comforts" of North America, to live in the "comforts" of Africa.

I was recently listening to a message from a pastor in the U.S.  In his message he spoke about Abram (who eventually became Abraham), and how his call from God to leave his home, and family, was something completely earth shattering to Abram.  The start of Abram's story can be found in Genesis chaper 12.  The culture that Abram lived in was completely different than the life he would choose to live in when God called him.  Abram was living in a major city.  There was industry, and education.  People had places to worship to go to.  It is believed that Abram's father was an idol carver, and that Abram was his father's salesman.  The main god that was worshipped in Ur (Abram's home) was Nannar, the moon god, and the moon goddess, Ningar (you can find all of this out by doing a search on Google.  Try "ur of the chaldeans," "call of abram," etc...).

Abram leaving the home of his family was not just as easy as "pack up and go."  I think that we as English speaking North Americans miss the impact that this would have on Abram, and his family, and his community.  This was a call by a personal God to leave the history and tradition of impersonal gods.  This was a call for Abram to turn his back on all that he knew and understood, and go to a land he knew nothing about.

I am leaving a land of opportunity and wealth to live in a land that is considered impoverished.  I am leaving a country I know for a country that I don't know.  I am unsure as to what life in Kenya holds for me.  The gods that I am leaving here in Canada could be considered, by some, to be money, cars, houses, property, job, income, big screen televisions.  The list could go on.  I am going with the hopes of showing people in Kenya, that they matter.  I want them to see that the choices they make have an impact on their future, and the future of those around them.  I want them to know that they are loved, and that they have love to give.

Lofty goals?  Maybe.  Am I dreaming?  Maybe.  I have to step out in faith.  I have to believe that it is possible to make a difference.  No matter how small the change, it can make a huge difference down the road.  For now, I will walk under African skies...