Refreshing The Soul

From my second floor balcony I watch the sun rising from the horizon of the Indian Ocean. The tide is going out and soon the boats tied in the deep I will be able to walk to on dry white sand. A few joggers are out, Columbus monkeys bouncing from tree to the ground looking for food. As I look out at the beauty of the coast, I try to think of something inspiring to write to match the experience that I feel, but realize that whatever I put down in type will never do the moment justice. All I can do is record what I see and feel, knowing that anyone who reads this will only relate if they’ve had a similar experience at another time, another place.

Vacations are good for the soul because it allows me to get away from the mundane and see the world from a different perspective. As I look out at the sea my eye cannot see the beyond the horizon. Far different from my flat in Delhi, where as far as the eye can see is the building across the street. The waves breaking on the beach is such a sweeter, soother sound than the noise of auto rickshaws and vegetable hawkers that grate my ears in the city. My morning walks in a polluted city with garbage piled high and open sewers is replaced by fresh air and darting crabs scurrying to their holes in the sand. My life and my work is not here, I will be ready to leave when my time is up, but it’s all good for the moment.

Part of the coastal experience is people watching. When one steps down from the hotel compound and begin their walk by the water any number of guys come up with greetings of “Jambo. Habari yako?” They are either wanting you to book a ride on their glass bottom boat, take skin diving lessons or wanting to sell you a bracelet. They are never sure what to say when I reply in Swahili, taken back that I’m not just another Italian or German tourist. When I speak to them in their language they quickly retreat, as they know badgering does not work with people who have lived in the country.

Was it Pascal, or Voltaire, who, after seeing a naked woman was so repulsed that he never had sex again? Though I am not that repulsed, seeing the fat women wearing unflattering beach attire of the white tourist, one can understand Pascal’s horror. The men, with their pot beer bellies and Speedos, are even more embarrassing. Bay Watch is a television show shot somewhere far away from where I vacation.

Of course the greatest experience of the week is my morning talk with the Creator as I dip my toes in warm water each morning. Looking at such beauty it's impossible not to think of the magnificence and power of God who designed such a place as this. Alone with Him, telling Him my troubles, my praise to Him for allowing me and my wife to experience this semi-paradise for a season, is worth the time and money invested in this get-away. Having no TV, radio or Internet connection for a week, I am forced not to be distracted with a world that is out there with its war, poverty and godlessness. For one brief moment I am captivated by His handiwork and reminded again that He delights in me being still and know that He exists. Will heaven have a beach? I hope so.

Mugged On The Way To Mombassa

On the way to Mombassa my wife and I were mugged. Not by some thugs hiding in a dark corner, but by men dressed in blue uniforms in broad daylight.

We were about twenty minutes from Keynote International Airport for our flight from Nairobi to the coast when we came upon a police check. Not too concerned, the taxi driver rolled down his window and yielded the appropriate papers to the attending officer. Another policemen on the passenger side of the car knocked on the window for my wife to roll down her window. The mugger then said, “You are not wearing your seat belts. We are taking you to the police station where you will pay a fine.”

I was so taken back I just started blabbering, “We don’t have time to go the police station, we have a plane to catch.”

The mugger in blue said the fine would be Ks 3000 ($46). I said that was unreasonable and offered a third of that, which he quickly agreed. Pulling out the money he told me to put in the drivers license card, as he did not want others to see the stolen cash.

As we drove away I was outraged…furious at myself for not having the presence of mind to handle this mugging differently. It’s been awhile since I’ve had to deal with official extortion and there are better ways I could have handled the situation. Tips for those who face the same situation:

One, tell the officer, “Okay, take me to the police station.” It’s a hardcore bluff, which they may call you on, so be ready to play it out. Usually they will back down if you show resolve that you are willing to comply with threats of detainment.

Two, ask them their name, with pen and paper in hand, telling them you will be reporting their action before the authorities.

Three, plead ignorance. Kenyan police don’t know what to do with someone who says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Four, tell them you want a receipt for the money they are charging for on the spot. They won’t do it of course, so prepared to follow through with suggestion number one.

My greatest outrage was with the corruption perpetrated by the man with the badge. I am a visitor to the country and they were not enforcing law but out on the street looking for opportunities to prey on the innocent. In a recent local newspaper article it noted that corruption is most prevalent among policeman, followed by politicians. Since I don’t know the law of passengers in a taxi I have no idea if we violated the law or not. If it was a violation was it my responsibility to pay the fine or the responsibility of the taxi driver to make sure his passengers were buckled up?

Willing to abide by the law, if the officer had written me a ticket I would have complied with the rules of the country, but it was obvious to me the law was secondary to their agenda. I regret the mugging, but more than being violated in the name of the law, I am disappointed with my feeble response. Maybe I should have handed the money and with a smile and a “God bless you.” Naw, what I really wanted to say was “God will curse you for this,” and “You will receive a plague of boils for this unjust act.” Boy, I can’t wait until the next time I get stopped. I’m prepared.

Different Yet The Same

For the past two weeks my wife and I have been in Kenya where we lived from 1976 to 1989. Our children grew up here; it was here I began my studies of social organization working with a semi-nomadic tribe called the Pokot. Thirty years ago I was considered a pioneer church planter, meaning, I established churches in areas where there were no churches. Kenya has had western missionaries for over one hundred years so to say we were the first to take the Gospel to Pokot or Turkana wouldn’t be accurate. However, many of the places where we did establish churches there were few and even in some areas, no churches at all.

Much has changed since we first came to this beautiful East African country. Gone are the shortages of basic items such as flour, cooking oil, sugar and building materials like cement and nails. In the old days the merchants from India determined the price of things as well as their availability, but in today’s Kenya the supermarkets, well stocked with variety, makes shopping a pleasure rather than an exercise in frustration.

When we first moved to the town of Kitale it was considered an outpost as the last town with electricity and water before going north into the bush of Pokot and Turkana. Operator assisted calls, even local dialing, has been replaced with mobiles and we can communicate with Nairobi or Lodwar from our front yard. The post office, once so revered we considered it “sacred space,” is hardly noticed today as overseas communication is now through Internet rather than aerogram.

But in some ways Kenya, especially upcountry, things have not changed. Time is still not kept and an appointment scheduled for 9 a.m. is easily delayed until 10:30 or 11. The roads, once promising with fresh tarmac, are now potholes or gone completely. Fashion has changed for some, but for most, the dress of shamba (farm) people are much the same. Even in Pokot, though cotton dress has replaced the goatskin, the beads an ornaments remain. The Kenyans still dry their maize on the ground, still barter vigorously at the market, still as friendly and jovial as they were when we arrived so many years ago.

Like the precarious existence of the Pokot, whose life is between starvation or plenty depending on the amount of rainfall they receive on any given year, Kenya continues to teeter on the brink from being a great country to one of complete ruin. With its natural resources and beauty Kenya could truly be the pearl of Africa. Surrounded by the conflict of neighboring countries, Sudan, Uganda, Ethoipa and Somalia; infested with corruption from the parliament to the police, one wonders if which way this magnificent country will fall? Time will tell, and since time is a slow process in this part of the world, we may not know the answer for at least another thirty years.

On The Road

One of the challenges of travel is finding internet access. While in the northwest of Kenya for the next couple of weeks my twice weekly posts will probably not happen. The things I'm learning, however, in this journey will be reflected in future posts.

Process of Discovery

I believe one of the most common comments I receive from those who attend my lectures, and certainly the most gratifying, is that I challenged their thinking. Whether I speak at a school or church invariably someone makes a comment such as those below from a recent class of MA students:

“Thank you, sir, for your valuable contributions through this module. You opened my eyes to come out from my shell and see others with a different perspective.” Jomon

“I am so happy to have met you and learn from you. You have cleared many of my own doubts. Thank you very much for coming here to teach us." Milton

“Thank you so much for enabling me to think afresh about my life and ministry. Indeed you are one of those who disturb our thinking so that we will think in a new way.” Justin

There are several reasons people respond to my class as they do. First, the subject is different. Every discipline focuses on certain areas of study and therefore not exposed to other subjects. If you study medicine, engineering or theology, you are not likely to study topics outside your field of specialty. Sadly, there are few seminaries that have a strong department of anthropology. You will never hear a message on contextualization or the dynamics of world religion in church. What I teach does have enormous relevance within the religious context, but because it is new for many my lectures are eye-openers.

Second, people appreciate the subject because it helps them fill in the blanks in their own lives. Theology is the study of God; anthropology is the study of us as human beings. In my lecture on the worldview animists, Hindu’s, fatalists, Muslims, secularists, the audience is drawn into comparisons of how they see the world. Are we more alike the tribal nomadic sitting under a tree in Africa than we are different? Humanity shares many things in common and my lectures reveal our similarities and in doing so help us understand what are the fundamental differences.

Third, because I use the Socratic method of teaching, my classes raises as many questions as it does answers. Rather than force-feeding people with the answers, which is common in most settings of learning, my class is guide for discovery. As the old adage states, things are best learned when caught, not just taught. Since I have disdain for lazy intellectualism and simplistic Christian platitudes I require my students to give a reason for their belief and will play the devils advocate no matter what their conclusions. I never give an “F” for disagreeing wit my assumptions, but will certainly fail someone if they can’t give a well thought out reason for why they believe what they believe.

Fourth, and most crucial, is that I discuss issues that are relevant and practical. Studying genealogies are boring, unless you can help students connect the dots on why it is pertinent in presenting the Gospel. Each topic we cover is coupled with application borne out of thirty years of experience linking theory to real life. Over fifty percent of my lectures are real-life stories of how and why the topic matters. Some of my stories reveal success, sometimes my illustrations highlight failures. My students may not remember the proper definition of structuralism, but they always remember my story of “ice cubes in the Pokot desert,” and how language relates to the structural ordering of the mind.

Seeing Through A Dark Glass

There once was man named Job. It's possible he was the precursor to
postmodernism.

Modernism and its cousin, fundamentalism, hold to objective absolutes.
They came in the form of three theolog's named Eliphaz, Bildad and
Zophar. Their theory (theology) on the acts of the Almighty was based
on history and tradition, which stated: If you live right, do right,
fear God, you'll be blessed. If you do wrong and do not fear God you
will face the wrath of God. Having heard the report that Job had lost
family, herds and health, they concluded that Job was guilty. Even
though they knew, or thought they knew, Job as a moral man, their
theology could not be changed...IT was supreme.

Job, who at one time ascribed to the accepted historical/traditional
theory, was in a quandary. Would he let his theory of God dictate his
life, or would he, dare he, question his theology? Would Job, "Lie
for the glory of God," and confess that, perhaps unknowingly, that he
was guilty of a transgress? ("I don't think I did it, but I must
have done it because my circumstance reveals it. I will seek God's
forgiveness for the secret sin of which I am unaware.")

Job was not only a man of integrity but also a person of indescribable
courage. In the face of criticism by his denomination/fellowship, he
remained (though perhaps arrogantly), unmoved. Absolutes? Yes, he had
at least one...He believed that there was a God. Beyond that,
everything was up for grabs for that One in whom he believed had blown
his theology all to hell. (Actually hell was the instigator of the
circumstance and therefore it was good and right that Job return it
back to that direction rather than maintain a heavenly theology, which
had no validity.)

This ancient postmodernist (surely a contradiction of terms) turned his
back on theory that could not be sustained, while his friends held to
their absolute theory rather than question God. Job was the first to
have the courage to say, "I don't know. What I do know is limited.
I will not waver on my absolutes, though I realize even this is
subjective faith." In the end, God honored Job, for maintaining his
absolutes, for he did not curse God as Lucifer determined he would, and
rebuked those who defended His honor through misguided and false
theology.