A Global Gospel

The Church is awesome.  Not just because it is the true and restored Gospel on the Earth today, but also the sheer organization of it all across the world.  I love that I can go to church on Sunday in Kenya and get the same lesson that is being taught in Utah and all through Europe and South America and everywhere.  But here is a little bit about the little group of saints in the Changamwe branch.  First of all, we are in the Africa Southeast district (Kenya Nairobi Mission and Johannesburg South Africa Temple district).  There are three branches in Mombasa area: Mombasa, Bomburi, and Changamwe.  Since I am about 20 km outside of Mombasa, the Changamwe (an area on the mainland, just west of the Mombasa island) is the closest for me to go.  The branch meets in a little building in the busy area of Changamwe.  (Sometimes it can get noisy, as there’s a metal shop just across the street and they definitely work on Sundays.)  With about 40 members, it’s a great little branch.  I even get to go to a YSA class for Sunday School; in fact I even got to teach the lesson last Sunday for that class, with a total prep time of about two minutes.  It turned out pretty good though. 

There are two missionaries assigned to the Changamwe area: Elder Ngwenya from Zimbabwe and Elder Raymond from Rigby, Idaho.  It’s funny to see Elder Raymond interacting with people here, as he is a redheaded farm boy from Idaho, who has picked up the accent and mannerisms.  I have worked with them a little bit, as they came out to Mariakani to teach a lesson to Bernard.  He and I have had some discussions while we drive all over the region, and one day that got directed toward religion.  We talked about the history and core beliefs of the church and then I told him about missionaries.  When I asked if he’d like to meet with them, he accepted.  The first lesson went really well and he’s open to meeting with them again.  It’s been great to see the work of the Lord progressing here in Kenya. 

Mayhem

My most trying experience here in Kenya has not been wearing the same outfit for over a week or trying not to fall in the squatty potty first thing in the morning.  No, the title of most stressful experience in my Kenyan life goes to driving through Mombasa.  Seriously, every time I step out of the vehicle my muscles relax and I appreciate life a little more.  I am no stranger to traffic - I have experienced my fair share of traffic jams and played Frogger through downtown Ho Chi Minh City - but Mombasa traffic is a breed of its own.  

To start out, they drive on the opposite side of the car and road than I am used to.  So when I sit “shotgun” I actually feel like I am supposed to be driving or at least have some control over the vehicle.  And they have even more items to clog up the streets.  The roads are a continuous mélange of piki pikis (motorcycle taxis), tuk tuks (three wheeler taxi things), cars, matatus (van taxis), and trucks galore, not to mention the pedestrians, bike riders, and cart pushers that fill in any possible gap.  The busyness could be manageable if there was some semblance of order.  I’m sure there’s some sort of hierarchy, but at this point, all I can tell is that the only rule of the road is also a basic rule of physics: “No two objects can occupy the same space at the same time.”  Yet where we give car lengths, they give inches (or cm, depending on the system of measurement you prefer to use).   Where we have protected turn signals, they have massive roundabouts where anything seems to go.  

Needless to say, Kenyan cars keep close quarters and move in erratic patterns.  I find myself mimicking my mom when she was trying to teach me to drive: phantom braking, muttered prayers, sharp intakes of breath, yet with less yelling, since I can’t really tell the driver what to do.  So instead I try to distract myself or ride in the back of the car whenever I can.  It’s not as bad when you can’t see the matatu cutting in front of you or when you can’t tell that you are within handshake range of the tuktuk driver.  But it’s safe to say that you won’t see me getting my international driver’s license anytime soon. 

Mental Pictures

There have been some amazing moments on my trip so far, but some of them couldn’t be captured by my camera lens.  Either due to the fact that my camera is dead and I don’t have a charger or that it would have been inappropriate to snap a picture, I have had to resort to mental pictures.  But I thought I’d share some of my favorite moments. 

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One afternoon while in Mombasa, we went and explored Fort Jesus and the Old Town.  The area was built up a lot by Portuguese traders and British colonizers, so there was a European feel, all while being distinctly African.  This square in particular used to be the hub of all activity in a bygone era, but has now fallen into a slower pace.  As we passed through the square, my eyes found a cement stoop supporting two beautiful figures in conversation: a Muslim woman in full burqa and a Masai man dressed in the traditional tribal red plaid fabric and white beaded accessories.  They captured the essence of what I have found Mombasa to be: an area full of diverse, deeply rooted cultures that fully respect each other.  Indians, Arabs, and Africans have lived, traded, and mingled here for hundreds of years.  People observe their beliefs while allowing and appreciating others’.  It’s absolutely fantastic.  

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The highway out of Mombasa is always jam-packed with semis and every other vehicle known to man.  One particular day, I saw a flat-fronted semi coming the opposite way.  As it approached, I discovered that it was more of a half-fronted semi.  Traffic was bad so I got a great glimpse of the fractured frame of the inconceivably running vehicle.  As they passed my window, I could see right into the cab and got a great view of the driver’s legs.  They must have gotten in a wreck, but instead of banging out the dents, they just cut them out. You’ve got to respect the mad ability of making do with whatever.  And think of it this way, at least they get a good breeze without having to roll down the windows.

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I've gotten to see a lot of the bush during different drives.  One morning we were out at the break of dawn (yes, I did wake up before the sun once), and that break of dawn was amazing to behold.  As we sped down the road, I could look out over the road and see rolling hills of bush.  This morning they were covered with pockets of morning fog. Little mud houses and baobab trees dotted the scene. It was breathtaking and made waking up so early worth it for a moment.  (But don't expect it to become a habit... I don't want to cheapen the experience.)

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Last Saturday I went out on a collections route on farmer pay day.  The craziest part of the route is that we would be driving down a dirt road with no sign of life around, then Bernard would know just where to pull over, and a clump of farmers would be waiting with their buckets or bottles. One man stood out to me so distinctly. Bernard had pulled into a spot where I never would have noticed anyone, and looking out my window, the first sight I saw was this adorable old man in a worn out shirt and slacks, clutching a tiny green pitcher with a hopeful look on his face. At first my heart wanted to break because of his situation. I had no background on the man, but I just wanted to take him in my arms and make everything all better. And then I realized that is why we were here. He may live in a remote part of the bush with not a lot of resources, but we were there to buy his one liter of milk and give him an income. If I had come all the way just to give that man 30 shillings, it could have been worth it. But by George, I'm going to do everything in my power to make this dairy a success so that I can give that man, and the whole coastal countryside, 30 shillings or more every day. I knew that this project was a good cause when I started (otherwise I wouldn't even be here), but sweet little old man Christian Umazi personified why I am here and gave me motivation to never slack.

My Kenya Cast of Characters

If my life were a play, then it would probably be an ironic comedy… or a musical. Either way, this scene has an excellent cast of characters, and they deserve a highlight in the program:

Dr. Rita Lugogo – When I grow up, I want to be as awesome as Rita. She is the in-country director for CHOICE Humanitarian and was my host for the first two weeks. Born in Italy and raised in the US, yet she is as local as any Kenyan. She came here during her master’s program as a Peace Corps volunteer and met her husband. Since then, she has gotten her doctorate, raised three kids, and done a lot for the development of Kenya. She runs CHOICE operations and is director for Yehu Microfinance. She barely clears five foot tall, but doesn’t take any crap from anybody. She basically rocks.

Lowry Redd – Investor from Woods Cross who owns an engineering firm in SLC. Instead of retiring he decided to focus on international development projects. He has done a lot for the dairy, as they had shut down in like May, and he was able to come in and shake things up and get some important things done. He was only here for the first couple weeks that I was here, but we got along really well. He likes classic rock and has a major sweet tooth.

Catherine and Clayton Holding – A sister and a brother from Salt Lake, 19 and 17, respectively. Their parents gave them an expedition for Christmas last year, but they wanted to do more than just a week, so they stay at Ritas and help with any projects that they can. They will be here a total of 8 weeks.

Candy – Intern from California. She acts as the mother of the group, as we are all just younger than her daughter. She’s really nice, but doesn’t like Psych… no one’s perfect.

Eric – Is awesome. He’s essentially who I’m training to take over financials when I leave. He is on the management team and helps with marketing and sales too. He’s about Britt’s age and he and his wife are about to adopt a baby. He served a mission in South Africa. He teaches me things like that taco means buttcheeck in Swahili and occasionally makes fun of my American accent.

Masai – How to describe Masai… Well he is the animal husbandry expert for the dairy, borrowed from CDA. His biggest job right now is to find more milk for us to buy. But he is also a dabbler in many things and has traveled to many countries over Africa and southern Asia teaching agricultural practices and advising. He even has a group here from Afghanistan for a few weeks. Aside from being awesome in that way, Masai is also a delightfully extroverted guy. Long rides through the bush are made entertaining as he regales you with stories of what it will be like when he is president of Kenya and about why God loves him the most. 

Bernard – Manager of the dairy operations. I’m sure he eats and sleeps occasionally, but I’ve never seen it. He is always fixing one thing or another at all hours of the day. The place definitely wouldn’t run without him.

Beatrice – The only woman working at the dairy. She is great. Her English isn’t great, but she always checks up on me and makes sure I have seconds at dinner every night.

Peter and Josephine Mangali – The owners of the house I stay in. (She is Beatrice’s sister) They are super nice and welcoming and concerned about me. They always make sure I’m okay and I have everything I need. Also, her laugh is awesome and can be heard anywhere in the house.

Margaret, Catherine, and Aisha – The house girls. They cook and clean for us. They are cute and nice and think I’m hilarious whenever I speak Swahili. They also like to borrow my American movies and watch them whenever they can.

We Gonna Party Like It's Yo Birthday

To add to the month's festivities, Supe decided to have a birthday. Well, it was decided about 25 years ago, but it was conveniently timed and allowed us to keep partying. Chelsey and I hit up the market on Tuesday and bought a bootleg DVD for a present, then went over to the senior missionary couple's house to bake a cake on Wednesday. It was fun to be baking again, and all of us talked the whole time it was baking. Their names are Elder and Sister Dalton, from Provo. They are awesome.



We all had responsibilities in the evening, so we did a little lunch party. We covered the chocolate (pudding) cake with some knock-off Nutella, and it turned out fantastic. Nick even bought FanIce so we could have cake and ice cream. It was every American's dream. Then Chelsey and I gave Supe the present (wrapped in old class handouts and stapled shut) and the peasants rejoiced. (just a quote... I didn't mean for that to sound unPC or anything)

And later that evening a new sport was born. After a random discussion on real estate, the idea was presented that the hall in our house would make an excellent bowling lane. Aaron and I have the tendency to build on eachother's ideas... So 10 mins later we had about an inch of water in the bottom of 10 1 liter waterbottles and Aaron was digging out a soccer ball. Oh yeah. African foot-bowl was born.



Basically we just took turns throwing the soccer ball down the hall at the neatly set up "pins" while trying not to make too much noise. (It was like 10 pm at this point.) It was random, yet quite satisfying and entertaining. We played at least six frames before calling it a night, but I ended with a strike. It was pretty epic.

You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress

So Chelsey and I got dresses! Well actually we bought the fabric at a market in Accra, then had them made here in Abomosu, but yes, we are almost true Ghanaians now. After quite a few alterations (and an awkward change in a little shack with no door) we got to take the dresses home and wear them to church on Sunday. We received quite the reaction. Everyone was quite pleased with our purchases. And then we proceeded to our photoshoot.

My Favorite pic of the day:


Just my dress:

Baby, You're a Firework!

Well, happy birthday America. I was definitely sorry that I missed it this year. It's funny how you don't even realize how much you love something till you miss it. I discovered just how much I love the 4th of July! It's an extremely fun holiday.

Anyway, I was slightly bummed due to the fact that I was missing out on all the fun when I decided to make some fun myself. I could tell that the other interns were feeling a bit of a drag as well, so I hatched a plan.

Every Independence Day celebration needs certain things:

fireworks, parades, barbeques, and patriotism.

We had miraculously had excellent corn on the cob at dinner, so I considered that the barbeque portion of the evening (unbeknownst to the rest of the group... We did think it was conveniently timed though). I also knew that I had a snowball's chance in Ghana of finding fireworks at the Abomosu market, so I got working on the next best thing: solitare. Not that the game itself is a requisite substitute for patriotic festivities, but the result of a win is...

So I called the rest of the group into the living room and got working on Solitaire. I have been honing my Solitaire skills lately, so I didn't think it would take me long. Ironically, it took me forever. But luckily the other interns are patient-ish and I soon had Miley Cyrus full blast while I conquered a Solitaire game and prepared for my parade.

And then I remembered that Solitaire just drops and shatters the cards instead of congratulatory fireworks. All that hard work down the drain. But I carried on with my parade anyway, and marched back and forth across the living room tossing Obama biscuits to the masses (or four other interns... I had to work with what I had). Obama biscuits are these small packages of cracker things with Obama's picture on it and the most patriotic thing I could access at the time.

Luckily I did remember that Mahjong celebrates with fireworks after a successful finish, so I slayed the game (first try, I'm getting really good at that one) and we entertained ourselves with a quick fireworks finale.

It wasn't the most traditional holiday observance, but we made do here in our little town in Africa...