Simon's Nairobi Diary - Archive 4

3 October 2005 2:55pm

The sunlight is being sapped by the solar eclipse as I look out the window. The ground beneath the thick trees is littered with miniture crescent blotches where the fiery orb manages to poke through. During lunch, a thick cloud covered up the eclipsed star and it turned the landscape into some sort of surreal dusk. Saturday I attempted to sabbath the day in Hells Gate National Park, located about eighty miles away in a southern section of the Rift Valley. Pictures are at the link on your left.

What a long ordeal it turned out to be. Transportation was very cheap: 2$ to get 60 miles from Nairobi to Naivasha and another 1$ to get to the entrance of the park, though it meant being cramped the entire way in a matatu. Its not uncommon to have 24 people or more crammed into these rickety old 14 passanger vans, which made the trip a chore for my lengthy frame. And the trip itself, with the haggling of prices and the logistics of entry and exit points made each direction take over 4.5 hours. The ride included a phenominal roadside vista overlooking the valley, but by the time the gate was reached, there remained only 45 minutes of available time. On the way into the park we came across warthogs and a troupe of baboons. As I had never had a wild simian encounter before, I was eager to get close. My friend Angeliene suggested otherwise because, "if you make them mad they'll throw stones at you". I even found out on Sunday that some of my friends at the school have had baboons attack them upon seeing food.

Entrance was only $1.50 with my resident card, even with gate attendent frowning in response to my inquiry of the price of 'lion rides'. Upon entrance into the park I was overwhelmed with the magnificent cliffs and wild herds of grazing zebras and gazelles. The road was littered with obsidian volcanic glass, some hunks the size of soccerballs. Not too long after walking into the park, we realized the mistake of not bringing a car, since it would have given more time and lessened our vulnerability to any hostile animal aggression. With the clock running out we made our retreat back to the gate. One of our fellow students owns a car, and we made plans to return within the month (especially with it being so affordable), so as to actually see the gorges, giraffes, obsidian caves, wildabeests, and (hopefully) lions. I am not in Harrietta anymore.

30 September 2005 8:04pm

Breast feeding is what finally caused the kid to settle down. You see, Grace Group (small group) was held in my room today. Nine people all stuffed into the closet space of my bedroom. One couple brought their 2.5 year old kid. He kept running everywhere and pulling down stuff off the shelves, so mom pulled him over, pulled up her shirt, and began feeding. Wow. Other than that, Grace Groups went smoothly. I served mango puree and black tea (from Chinatown Chicago). I think they enjoyed my funktified version of How Great Thou Art, capo-ed up six frets for the mandolin effect.

Tonight was Nyama Choma with the Missions Department. Nyama Choma means goat roast. I think that roasting goat for an official department gathering is about the greatest thing since sliced bread. Fourty students and staff all hunched over the meat, eating it off the bone with their fingers. The guy next to me had the femur. When a strip of goat meat was too large then one guy would partner with another and they would pull the hunk from two directions like some sort of tug of war neanderthal male-bonding ritual. Since it was my first official school nyama choma, they made sure I got plenty of grilled stomach and grilled intestine. Too be honest, the goat was delicious, but as thick and chewy as shoe leather. The fruit salad was an opus.

My beloved begotten Calvin email account functions no longer, adding a tinge of melancholy to my otherwise quite colorful day.

29 September 2005 9:00pm

I keep my drinking water in a CocaCola 2 liter bottle on my book shelf. Its been a change, H2Owise. I mean, the fact that I have to not swallow water while I wash my face, at the risk of contracting larvae or bacteria unknown to the memory banks of my immune system. Even the sinks in the nice school bathrooms have the possibility of making me a 'host', and I do not mean the kind I will be tomorrow. Tomorrows 'Grace Group' is held in my room (Q7 come visit). I bought MangoPapaya juice, 100%. 1 Liter for 1$, and cookies to boot. First test tomorrow in Greek I. Call me Plato, because Greek to me is like playdough... wow I apologize for that last sentence.

A very old woman passed me on the road into the village today. I nodded in her direction. "Habari", the woman asked. "Nzuri", I replied. I am doing fine.

28 September 2005 8:49pm

I cannot begin to describe the passion I am feeling for my studies. When my eyes begin to comprehend the texts, it is as if somebody is blowing on a fire in my soul, and I get so impassioned that I almost begin to sweat. Its peculiar to think back to when I understood the bible as boring. I mean, the Old Testament was the lamest of all holy texts, and recently I have been absolutely enthralled by it.

Example: Why should I have cared about the creation of the country of Israel in 2Samuel? I mean, it was just another boring story that I couldn't make heads or tails of what it even meant, let alone understand how it impacts my life. Yet some writings of Buechner have shown me its meaning like never before. You see, the entire Old Testament is centered around the rise and fall of Israel's nation. At the center of its creation, you have King David, the shepherd boy and defeater of Goliath. David was a guy who, full of imperfection, was the closest to God's heart. During his reign, the nation of Israel reached its greatest point. The peak of the greatest moment of Israel's establishment is when the Ark of the Covenant (God's presence) is brought into Jerusalem for its first time. And the center of this coronation, with trumpets blaring and tambourines crashing and the people shouting thanks, is David dancing "with all his might" in an ephod. More clearly: the very center of the boring decrepit Old Testament is David in his underwear, cuttin' loose in a holy hoedown with almighty Yahweh.

THIS is the One I serve. Goodbye ornamental religion and thees & thous. Goodbye tepid stagnation and stiff-necked procedural ceremony. My Maker equates existence with Him when we die like this: us believers dancing 'with all our might' in our skivvies to the music of the angels! How is giving my life to this Creator, who loves me even when I'm messed up, even a choice?

27 September 2005 7:46pm

I studied the history of biblical interpretation in the grass outside today. Avoiding the cold vaults of concrete and laminate, I sat cupped in the sunlit chlorophylled arms of the Maker, I began to read sections of the latin vulgate, basically the oldest non-greek version of the bible ever made. Despite its error filled pages it was taken as the infallible word of God by the Christian church of the day, and huge doctrines were built from its mistranslations. I was about proceed into the reformation with my thesis and nails in hand, but was thwarted. Not by dogma but by a grasshopper. It was so brilliant that it looked actually fake and plastic. Vivid green with bright red eyes and a multicolored motled back. It walked around with its smaller mate attached to its back (the male?). But what caused me to lose my page was its size. The grasshopper was five inches long. I mean, you could have tripped over it. It just sat there in its behemothness, staring at nothing the way that grasshoppers do. It just sat in its massive dumbness, like a brontosaurus or a moose, able to maim and kill but too simple to initiate aggression. It was so monstrous you could have had it on a spit over a fire. (Nyama Choma!) It was if I had left 2nd Chronicles for the Chronicles of Narnia. And then it walked off. Too stunned to even see where it went off to, I assume it jumped back to the land of the Nephilim mentioned in Genesis 6.

It reminded me of when I called my friend Womta to my room to ask about the danger of a large spider dangling above my bed. "No no. It is harmless", he said as he grabbed it and threw it out the window. "Which ones are dangerous", I asked. "You'll know", he said as he casually walked out of my room.

Supposedly, the golden-orb spider's body is the size of a plum.

26 September 2005 9:01pm

Sunday afternoon proceeded much differently than I had pictured. A casual Yfenel told me that there was going to be a volleyball game at 3pm. This was good news as a result of two factors: I was free for this hour and I am tall enough to dominate the game without any skill whatsoever. I showed up, and nobody was there. Of course, I had forgot that time here is lax. Forty minutes later, the players were assembled.

It turns out that my vision of peaceful harmonic leisure was sorely off its mark. Expecting the ragtag group of students, I was shocked to see a crowd of a hundred church goers swarming the court, referees with whistles, and a very intense official measuring the distance from the ground to the top of the net. My gargantuaness and canary-colored 'Calvin Interim 2003' tee made me an easy pick among the crowd, and I found myself on the front line of a viscious 'game' of volleyball only comparable to the Olympics and GVSU games involving players named Kirk. Apparently my cargo shorts were regared as a bit riske, but I cannot imagine playing sports in the various cotton and wool dress pants that everybody else wore. I suppose I looked the part of the foreigner, with my pasty skin and donned 'Boomland, MO' foam hat (free with a purchase of $60 worth of fireworks). The game was on.

As the red dust rose, sprinkled with fragments of the brown grass, the our team began to pull ahead. The other team answered with a rally that was done with the help of their sidelined fans. I could barely stay focused as their fans did tribal yells and jumped and stamped their feet. "Ooohhh!" and they pointed and leaned left, "Ahhhh!" and they pointed and leaned right, adorned in suits, ties, and Sunday dresses. "Ooohh! Ahhh!". Repeat. Tomora set the ball above me and breaking my stupor of flabbergast. I vaulted high against the Kenyan sun, and spiked. Point. Why were the children laughing whenever the mzungu jumped? We won both games, despite opposing fan's vigorous efforts. I left the environment, my previous condition altered. Again.

24 September 2005 7:01pm

Today Seg took me to his office, and I walked the massive halls of the United Nations in Gigiri and just tried to absorb the place where delegates discuss the rising and falling of the countries of the globe. Amazed, he showed me outside how UNON is placed on a gorgeous piece of property full of rare trees from around the world and flowers and monuments. Nairobi is the international headquarters for, among other branches, the UNs Environmental Programme where Seg works. It was interesting to listen to how his office makes environmental assessments throughout the world and coordinates the world's collective environmental efforts, and how his office assists developing nations in their environmental policies. He has been to every major country. Plus it was sweet to go through heavy security clearance and visit the organization that is responsible for the majority of the planet's international diplomatic efforts. It was around the UN table where the cuban missle crises was averted, the closest the world has ever come to nuclear war. In about 16 months the world's delegates will meet here, and Seg said that audience attendence is allowed.

"Wuddup Kofi Annan? Wet willie! Ohhh!"