I'll miss the rains down in Africa

I awoke from a mid-afternoon slumber feeling it was time to attempt some kind of callisthenic.  I’d had a big lunch at a local Indian joint, and I needed to burn off a few kilojoules.  One of my favorite runs goes down on the road which passes along the southern border of Nairobi National Park.  Eventually if you take this route you arrive at Rolf’s place, a critically acclaimed German restaurant built on the side of Leopard Cliffs.  I quickly threw on my running gear and headed outside, knowing that it’s best to get a run in before it turns dark, especially on that road where the rumors of simba passing by after dark abound.  As I stepped outside I noticed large dark clouds forming to the Northwest and to the Northeast.  Normally the clouds come from due west here in Kenya, so I thought I may be able to just miss the normal afternoon deluge which is ever so common during the rainy season.  I exited campus through our main gate and crossed the main road to begin my run on the ever familiar John P. Marangu road.  This is a dirt road that is closed to through traffic, save for the boda boda’s who ferry passengers between a local junction and a small town on the other side of ANU.  After about ¾ of a mile, this road T’s into Maasai Lodge Road.  From here you take a right and are on the road which runs along the Southern side of the park.  As I ran along, the clouds were ever so ominous as they gathered over Nairobi.  They were pregnant with a fierce downpour that makes one miss Africa in incredible ways when away from it.  Over my right shoulder the clouds were beginning to get bigger as well.  But, it still looked like I could go and come back and make my way along the edge of the storm.  This is one of my favorite runs in the world, for you always have a shot of seeing some kind of an animal right along with you.  I gazed over Nairobi National Park in search of some kind of wildlife.  The birds of the African plains chirped as the light was slowly fading from the sky.  Almost everyone was going the opposite direction as me.  It was home time, and they were all trying to get home before the rains.  I reached the iconic Rolf’s place in good time.  The Maasai guard was at his usual post by their gate.  I greeted him in his language, and he greeted me back with a chuckle.  I think his chuckle was because he knew I was about to get stuck in a massive storm, yet I tried to think otherwise.  I turned around and started the run home.  Then I felt the first drop fall from the sky.  Still, I thought it was just the edge of the storm.  Soon more drops gathered with their fallen comrade, and I began to realize it was going to pour.  What had happened was all of the clouds which I had seen around me were converging over my head, and a downpour began.  At first the rain was fierce, hitting my skin with the strength of a small pebble.  Then the rain turned softer, yet still heavy.  Small puddles were forming on my shoulders, my running clothes and shoes now completely soaked.  I gazed up at the heavens, in awe of the beauty of such storms.  I’m quite sure everyone I came across on the last two miles of my run thought I was a crazy man.  They were all decked out in their raincoats, Welly’s, umbrellas, and the like.  Whilst I arrived back at my flat soaked, I was thankful to experience a run in the rains that I’ve come to love so dearly.  In approximately 50 days time I will once again be singing along with Toto of how I miss them as I fly out of the city of my birth with my parents on our way back to the United States.

"It looked and felt like 'hell on earth'"

Some of us runners running through the desert.

My good friend Robert Congdon described the area around Lake Magadi, Kenya this way during a conversation with him last week as I prepared to travel down to Oloika, in Southern Kenya, for a half-marathon.  My friend Matt Hall, a fellow volunteer here at ANU, and I decided we'd like to give this race a shot a couple of months ago when seeing it online.  We purchased the race + tented camp option for the Saturday and Sunday.  Included in our journey were transport down and lunch, dinner and breakfast.  Those of you who know the African scene will recognize the phrase tented camp.  Lately that has come to mean a relatively luxurious way to spend a night at a game park or the like.  Thinking of this phrase, I thought something similar.  I was quite excited for the weekend.  Oloika is down close to the Shompole Wildlife Conservancy, a posh game park and lodge near by.  I figured we'd be staying in something similar.  I did some research on the area last week and discovered some pretty interesting facts.  We'd be running part of our race through the salt flats on Lake Magadi, which is the world's largest producer of soda.  Flamingos flock to the lake to snack on whatever flamingos snack on.  Natural hot springs feed the lake with 40 degree Celsius water.  From what I was discovering and from what Robert told me, I was beginning to second-guess my hypothesis about the tented camp.  

Saturday came along and Matt and I ventured to our designated meeting place where we'd hitch a ride down with the race organizers and others who had bought the package.  We had a multicultural van.  People from seven nations hopped into the safari van and headed down to Oloika just on the southern tip of Lake Magadi.  As we made the trip, we dropped roughly 4,000 feet in elevation from the elevation here on campus.  The scenery was actually rustically beautiful.  It was a chance to see vegetation you don't normally see around Nairobi.  As we travelled we passed through little Maasai town after little Maasai town.  Each of them looking like a scene straight out of the movie The First Grader, which I highly recommend by the way.  

Finally we turn a corner out of the mountains to see a glimpse of the soda factory.  We scurried along the road a little further until we happened upon the town.  This is a public highway mind you, yet to get in and through the town you have to go through a security stop.  We passed over the railway line, which must surely ferry the soda from Magadi to Nairobi where it is sold or distributed.  Magadi is a fascinatingly strange town.  There is no real vegetation to speak of, save for some acacia trees.  The ground is basically covered in the natural for the area, gravel.  There are a series of apartment buildings painted a clay color that must house the factory workers.  There is a public pool in the town, which would have felt very nice.  There are also these signs scattered through the town for 'assembly points'.  I'm not sure when they would assemble there?  A true mystery.  

We pulled into the local sports/country club.  The race organizers had sent down a couple of ladies to have lunch prepared for us there.  The shade of the thatch roof umbrella-shaped roofs provided an escape from the heat.  At the sports club they had a basketball court and volleyball/tennis court outside.  These were made of gravel, so I'm not entirely sure how effectively you could play any of the aforementioned sports.  Inside the club they did have a nice badminton court.  We had a delicious meal of rice, chicken, beans, cabbage, and chapattis. Definitely good food for pre race day.  

We were then off to Oloika.  On the way out of Magadi we passed the Magadi Golf Course.  Any avid golf fan, or simply anyone who has seen a golf course before would laugh at this place.  It too seems to be made of the indigenous gravel/dirt.  Frames of wood designated the t-boxes.  I never once spotted any greens, or anything green for that matter.  I had a good chuckle at this place.  We made it through town and rounded the southern edge of the lake.  Around a corner we saw hundreds of the flamingoes feeding.  That was quite the sight.  There are several such flamingo havens in the area, but I believe that was the first time I've seen them in their natural habitat.  We got out to take some pictures.  The dudes went and felt the salt/soda material.  It matched its name in texture.  

Back in the van and off we were to Oloika.  We soon began to drive over salt flats and across the edge of the lakebed.  Reminded me of what people say of the Salt Flats in Utah.  We began to see chalk shaped into numbers on the lakebed.  We guessed correctly these were markings for the race the next day.  We drove up a series of small hills to a plateau.  We'd arrived at Oloika.  We pulled into a complex for the Oloika guest lodge.  There was a lone, small house that was the guesthouse.  We got out and asked where we were supposed to be.  Across the way was the 'tented camp'.  It was a campsite.  We all gazed at each other with that look of, what have we gotten ourselves into.  On the journey down we could feel it getting hotter and hotter.  My guess was that it was at least 100 degrees.  We were given the royal tour of the tented camp, and we all settled into our tents.  This place was by no means similar to the memories of my tented camp experience on the shores of the Shire River in Malawi.  In fact it was just about as opposite as you could get.  This wasn't really that much of a damper; it was just adjusting to the fact that this is where we were staying.  

Matt and I went and registered.  We were given our race numbers.  They were probably the highest numbers either of us has ever had.  Matt had 34 and I had 35.  Our friends who were running the 10k had numbers 1 and 2.  We unpacked out things into our tents, which were at least 15 degrees warmer than outside, and then gathered under the shade of a thatched roof structure.  We stayed here in shock with our fellow travelers for a little while.  Matt and I then went and explored Oloika.  It didn't take much time to explore it.  Metal houses, churches, and businesses were strewn about.  We practiced our best Maasai and Swahili with the townsfolk.  All of them are Maasai or have Maasai heritage.  Most of the people were in their traditional garb.  We explored until the kiddies runs.  There was a 5km race and a 1km or so race for them.  A Kenyan kid won the 5km race.  In the smaller race, there were some very young kids!  One of the girls looked about 3.  Cute stuff!  Matt and I cheered them on with a group of kids from the town.  They were inquisitive as usual.  Some spoke broken English and a few had learned to be almost fluent from their school in Magadi.  We talked about various things with them.  We asked what their favorite classes were, etc.  Some kids said math, which Matt enjoyed (having a doctorate in the subject) and others said CRE (Christian Religious Education), which I enjoyed.  The one kid was incredibly knowledgeable about the Bible because of this, and we quizzed each other on various Biblical things.  I asked him if he knew what sport his t-shirt was from (it was a Cubs shirt) and he said it’s from the sport where they throw a ball to one another.  I also asked him where all the dads were as I'd only seen a few in the whole town.  He said they are shepherds, which I figured and had told Matt previously.  We then said goodbye and it was time for dinner. 

Dinner was pretty similar to lunch, but very tasty.  As it began to grow dark, more and more campers arrived. After dinner I called it a night, for I knew we'd have an early start with the 7 o'clock race start time. Unfortunately, the temps hadn't cooled down all that much, if at all.  The sweat was still dripping off of me even in my briefs.  It was very windy outside, so I tried to figure out how to open the windows in my tent.  They were covered with a thick netting to keep bugs out, which hadn't arrived yet.  I therefore just opened up the tent door.  When the winds died down, I heard the faint wine of mosquitoes grow closer and closer.  Attracted to the scent of my body, hundreds gathered around my tent.  I managed to get the tent door close with only a few entering my tent.  They were enough to give me about a dozen bites.  I tossed and turned in my sweatiness till about 1am when I finally dozed off.  I woke up a couple of times during the night to use the choo (Swahili for bathroom/toilet).  Thankfully, they actually had toilets installed in outhouse looking buildings.  They just had no seats.  During one such usage, I lost my left contact.  I was thankful for the spares in my backpack.  

Morning came, and I was thankful for the rest.  I downed some water first thing to give it a chance to get a decent way through my system before race time.  

Matt and I went to breakfast and had a couple of bananas.  Then, we all began to gather for the race.  We all found it quite comical to watch a man approach the start shirtless (he was the only one) and puffing away on a cigarette.  Surely he didn't need one last puff right before the start?  The race director showed us a hand drawn map of the route.  It looked relatively simple to follow.  There would also be marshals stationed through the race directing us and giving us water bottles.  We started in a flash.  Mr. Smoker/Shirtless man was out to a fast start with a pretty speedy lady.  Matt and I were in the following pack.  There were several parts to the route that weren't on the map.  The main three things were three u-turns which threw us all for a loop.  We began by running off the plateau of Oloika down to the left.  U-turn number one was there.  We came back to town and then went straight from where we had started.  Matt and I were in the following pack for most of the race.  Even though this place was so hot and desolate, there was a real beauty to it.  The course took us pass small settlements outside of town.  Maasai kids and adults alike greeted us as we went.  At around km 8 or 9 we made our way down to the salt flats.  We spent a good amount of time running on them.  Another thing that wasn't on the map was that there was no bridge across a river area.  Instead we had to run through it.  After the salt flats/lake bed, we got to the final hilly section.  This is where most of us really faced the music.  In the conditions, those hills seemed like killers.  After about 20 minutes in this section a saw a man waiting for his wife.  He offered the hope that the end was near.  It was.  Right over the next bend was Oloika.  I crossed the line in 1hr 52 mins and in 7th place.  I feel like were it not for the conditions, I could have faced the hills stronger and finished around 1hr 38 mins.  I'd kept a pretty good pace with a Frenchmen a few hundred meters ahead up until that point.  

After the race, everyone was in search of soda or maji (water) baridi (cold).  There wasn't a single fridge in Oloika.  Matt and I found some relatively less than warm sodas.  I'd also brought down some Gatorade/energy type drinks, which were warm, but replenishing to Matt and I.  For the weekend, I'd also brought down 4 litres of my own water, and consumed another litre and a half of water from the race organizers.  My backpack was way lighter on the journey back.  The journey back was good.  I'd suggested to the driver we stop off at the Magadi Sports Club again to get some soda baridi, since all of us wazungus were craving a cold beverage. That was a pleasant refresher.

Matt and I will surely never forget the experience of this race.  In many ways it looked like Arizona.  The drive felt like driving down into Death Valley.  It was great to get out of Nairobi and experience some of the Maasai culture.  This was the 4th annual Shompole Marathon.  A few of the people had done it last year.  If I was still living in Kenya this time next year, I'm not sure whether I'd return.  Though, I probably would in order to try and conquer those last few hills better than this year.  I'd probably do some training up on the Ngong Hills to prepare better like my Maasai friend Jack I'd seen up there in November.  It was a journey, and an unforgettable experience.  It would have been nice if someone came into my tent and said April Fools as I was preparing to sleep in my sweat, sadly no one appeared.  

The rains down in Africa...

For days the earth cried out for nourishment like a baby cries for a mother.  The Kenyan savannah was dry, the ground cracking due to lack of rain.  "The rains will come in February," we were told.  They never came.  We waited with anticipation for the coming day when the clouds would burst forth with the glorious sustenance creation so desperately needed.  Then it happened.  One evening, in the darkness of the night a rain drop fell on the mabati roof above my head.  At first, such a sound went unnoticed.  But when that single drop was joined by its comrades, one thing became certain: the rains had come.
It is these rains that are so iconic to the African setting.  Most places below the Sahara desert have two seasons: the rainy and the dry.  The rains mean that people can eat.  The rains mean that animals grow bigger.  The rains mean that there is life.  Everyday during the rainy season, these reminders of life are visible all around.  Perhaps it is this overwhelming sense of life that makes one miss the rains down in Africa when one becomes separated from them.

Resolution

Back at the time of my life when I weighed the most I ever had, I made a commitment to lose weight here on blogger. I then lost 60 pounds. Though I'm by no means as heavy as I was then, I do need to shed some excess pounds. I'm making the commitment again. It's time. Look out world.

Culture Shock: Why I haven't Experienced too Much of it.

During my stay back here in Kenya, countless people have asked me if I have experienced culture shock or any kind of adjustments in being back. They ask me if I miss home. My honest answer has always been, "not really." I have lived in four countries and travelled to fifteen during my 25 years of life. I've 'been around' more than the average person. Coming back to Kenya in September was for me more of a coming home. During my four years of boarding school here I grew to love Kenya. I must admit however, that this time I have taken a much deeper plunge into Kenya than I ever had in those four years. I live closer to the average Nairobian than I ever have before; yet at the same time, I am different. For reasons due solely to the womb I came out of and the mother and father who forced me to come out of that womb, I am who I am. Two of the most significant aspects of Roland that are different to the average Kenyan are my skin color and my access to money. By American standards I am no where near to wealthy, or by no means did I grow up in a wealthy home. In fact, I would say I'm actually relatively close to the lower class economic group. Yet, by Kenyan standards, that makes me seemingly wealthy. Those are just a few of the differences between myself and most Kenyans.

As far as culture shock goes, there are three things which have really helped me to grapple with it quite well. Firstly, as previously stated, I've been here before. Secondly, my education has caused me to view cultures from more of an insider perspective. Particularly during my education at my current school, Nazarene Theological Seminary, this idea has been ingrained into how I reflect on other cultures. I've read probably around 10 textbooks that deal specifically with this aspect of cultural respect. Cultural respect views others as equals yet as unique. The way they think is very unique to who they are. Lastly, my faith has caused me to view others differently. As a follower of Christ, I try to consider others as equals in light of their creation in the image of God. God showed no favoritism in his creation, and neither should we. The ministry of Christ and his death on the cross ensured that others have just as much value in God's eyes as I do.

Lately I have been rather disgusted (yes, a strong word, but truthfully I have) by individuals who somehow think that they are greater than others for a variety of reasons; whether that be skin color, education, age, etc. In my view educational discrimination is just as horrible as racial discrimination. Just because you have a few letters after your name does not mean that somehow God created you with a little more of his image engrained into the fabric of your makeup. It is therefore my desire to treat others as equals, to love others as equals, and to live as if this is true. I know I fail at times, but I think it is through the understanding of failure that we can become stronger. We have to make the choice to do so however.

There have been times when I have realized over the last few months just how different my mutt of a culture is to the Kenyan culture. Just this week I have realized this, especially in relation to hospitality and to issues of time. However, it is in these instances of realization of cultural differences that those from the outside can shine in their interaction with those on the inside. There is a choice to be made. Do you view these differences through the lens of your own culture, or do you view these differences through the lens of the kingdom of God?

Great thoughts on Jeremiah 29:11 from a good friend

One of my good friends from seminary recently commented on a comment thread about Jeremiah 29:11. Often times this is a passage which is quoted from an individualistic stance. I love what he had to say:

Very humble suggestion: Remember as we read these words that the English 'you' that we read today is translated from the Hebrew ' אַתֶּם ' from the Old Testament. It is a plural 'you' referring to the entire people of Israel. I only present this because this passage is often presented and read in a very exclusive manner with 'plan' and 'prosperity' interpreted in a very individualistic and financial/economic approach. However, our modern understanding of 'economy' and society not to mention the 'individual' would be quite foreign to the context in which this passage was written. As we are encouraged by this passage, let us remember: that God established Israel to be a light to all the world and desired for them to prosper in that plan and for that plan to be the future they hoped for as this passage maintains. Because God desires that all, that ' אַתֶּם ' would prosper in the plans that God knows for us. For God's love is for all the world (John 3:16) and this 'plan' and 'prosperity' are intrinsically communal. So, let us 'individually' seek to prosper in servitude and death to Christ (Philippians 1: 21-30; Philippians 2: 1-11) Constantly putting the 'prosperity' of God and neighbor first before ourselves. We are who we are because of God, and God created and shapes us within community and God will redeem us in community (Every knee, every tongue) so let us read this passage and interpret our very lives through a communal lens.

There is neither Jew nor Greek, Indian nor Coloured, White nor Black.

South Africa: it's my home country. I was born there 24 years and 4 months ago. I haven't spent massive amounts of time there (only a total of 2 years and 10 months of living and around 4 months of vacation time there), yet I feel a deep sense that South Africa is my home. To a large extent that is because SA is where my roots are. As I said above, I was born there. It's also because I just flat out love it! South Africa has so much good going for it. Firstly, it's a beautiful place! South Africa's natural environment is so diverse, filled with a wide variety of landscapes. There are vast amounts of coastline both on the east and west sides of the country. There are huge mountains that dot the landscape inland from the ocean. There's a large desert in northwest South Africa. There are numerous game parks spread throughout the country with countless varieties and species of Africa's great animals. Secondly, South Africa has very diverse people groups. There are 11 official languages in the country and four distinct races in South Africa: black, white, indian, and colored (not a racist term, it's an actual race there). Thirdly, South Africa is a sports crazy nation. My favorite sport there is rugby, and man do we breed rugby players well! We've won two rugby world cups, and more will surely follow. Other key sports in the country are football, cricket, field hockey, surfing, golf, etc. In school, students are almost required to play a sport, and each grade level has on average five teams for the main sports. Lastly, I love South Africa because of the food! South Africa is home to as much diverse food as it has people groups and more! When I was there I surely gained at least five pounds feasting on all the good things South African cuisine has to offer. I ate massive amounts of meat at braais (Afrikaans for grill, thus BBQs) for three consecutive days and at least another two days non-consecutively. Are you starting to get the picture? Wanna visit sometime? You should!

Yet with all that there is to love about South Africa, one massive, dark cloud still hangs over the landscape of a country supposedly 17+ years on from Apartheid. I saw it vividly during my two and a half weeks there on vacation recently. The racism of South Africa is the key element to that dark cloud. Within the first 24 hours of my time in South Africa I saw its affects and heard its brutality. People asked me numerous times, "How are the blacks in Kenya, they aren't like our's are they?" "Surely they're better," they were thinking. It was during these moments that my heart broke. Driving through South Africa I'd go from affluence to incredible poverty in a flash. Most of the racial dividing lines set up by the Apartheid government during their oppressive reign at the helm of South Africa still stand today. Not because the people don't want to move out of their ghettos, but because there is no way to be able to do so. They simply cannot afford it. I realize that some have moved out, and some are doing quite well for themselves. But the vast majority of people have not left the now invisible barricades once enforced through papers and police people who kept them inside of particular sections of metropolitan areas.

It's at times like the moments I spent back in South Africa that I had to ask how does God view this place? What difference should his kingdom make in this landscape? This is where the road must feel the rubber running all over the top of it. This collision of rubber meeting the road has to happen every day. It's when words are turned into action. When the followers of Christ stand up and speak up for the oppressed of South Africa.

South Africa sort of has a minimum wage. But, millions work for less than that because there simply are not enough jobs at minimum wage to discover. And it's true. These jobs bellow minimum wage are needed, and people are thankful to at least be making something. It is this something that will provide food and some kind of sustenance to survive. But I have to ask, would I ever work for that? Would people of my skin color ever work for that? Most certainly not. I would never in my life work for less than $1.50 a day. Never would I work for less than 20 U.S. cents an hour. Yet, this is what is happening. Could it be that the people deemed lazy simply don't have the energy and motivation to work for piddle sticks? $10.50 a week. Would you work hard for that when you're used to a minimum wage of many times that a week? The honest answer is of course I would not, and definitely most of you wealthily enough to be reading this on a computer would not. Why? Because there is a heavenly kingdom that has come to earth that says this inequality has got to stop.

Please don't think I'm only bashing the fair skinned people here. I'm not. I know there is a government of empty promises in power. This is a government that promised the impoverished of South Africa hope. They promised a better future. They promised jobs that not only allowed people to live, but allowed them to enjoy life. Sadly, it's not happening. At least not on the grander scale. Many of those promise givers are living the glorious life, but at the expense of the people they made promises to. I'm not necessarily agreeing with suspended ANC party member Julius Malema who says that he wants to see white domestic workers in South Africa in 10 years. What I am saying is there needs to be true equality. Not only on paper but in reality.

So what is the solution? That's tough to answer. But I think it starts when people truly begin to think about the fact that there is now neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female. In other words there is now neither white nor black, indian nor colored, Sandtonian nor Sowetoan. There are no longer dividing lines, we are ONE in Christ. This week I read Ephesians 2:11-22 with new eyes. I hope you can too:

Don’t take post Apartheid South Africa with a grain of salt. It seems like only yesterday that blacks, indians, coloureds, etc., had no idea what it was like to live like the whites. You hadn’t the faintest idea. You knew nothing of what it meant to be the chosen ones. Had no idea what it meant to go to a nice school, or drive a nice car, or work a decent job. But now, because of Mandela and the struggle of some fine men, some of which died for your freedom, you who were once out of it have now been given a chance.

Things have been made better between us, and apparently there is supposed to be equality. Both whites and darker skinned people are now one. The walls of hostility and segregation have now been demolished and we are supposed to be living in the same neighborhoods. The constitution has been rewritten, so that those laws which hurt us more than helped us have been erased. And we have now started over. We live in a democracy. Instead of continuing to live in our own places, separated by hundreds of years of aggression and hate, there is now a new creation, a new nation, a rainbow nation.

Democracy was supposed to bring us together. We were supposed to shake hands and hug our neighbors. The hostility was supposed to be over. There was supposed to be peace and equality. Through peace we are supposed to have equal access to quality education and well paying jobs.

That’s pretty simple right? We’re no longer supposed to be separated, looking for a better future. The bright future is now here. We’re no longer enemies, people living in different suburbs, neighborhoods, shanty towns, slums, villages, etc. We have a new country, and we all have access to it, irrespective of skin color. Let’s build a new nation, where everyone has a place, and an equal place at that. There is one thing that holds us together, and that is that we’re all created in the same image of God.

_________________

I realize that I'm asking for something that is way beyond reality. But, you have to remember, the kingdom of God is something which is way beyond reality as well.