the prelude to my God post, or the first in a series

This fall, I'm taking a class on the oral history of Saint Louis. Part of the class requires that we interview Saint Louis residents and write a paper using their commentary. Today at New City, three homeless people (2 men, 1 woman) were sharing their stories and experiences. As I listened to how they were being forcibly moved from a park in downtown Saint Louis, I thought of this class and how awesome it'd be to have their perspective. I wanted to give them my name and number, but I just couldn't: Would it be ethical? If I approach them about this class, would I be the clueless WU student unwittingly using her power/privilege to her advantage? etc., etc.

However, a part of me knew it would be a step of faith to just ask. By step of faith, I mean trusting God that it would be the right move. But I couldn't make that step. I don't know God's voice well enough to make that step. This knowledge has reminded me of how stagnant my relationship with God has become. This time last year, I was steady learning and reading and growing. With school and abroad (especially abroad...), I've hit a roadblock: I thought I'd be able to integrate God into my life even with the hecticness that is school and the adventuresomeness that is life abroad. No dice.

Looking back, I realize that trying to integrate God into my life was the wrong move. I have to just give my life - in its entirety - to Him. That scares me. I don't like being out of control of my life. If I had it my way, I'd steadily work God in so I don't loose track of the other things I'm doing. But if I do that, then I'm putting God on my timetable, telling Him to wait in line. I know that's not what He's asked of anyone and I'm no exception. I just have to lay it down.

Honestly, I'm not ready to go there. I know there's never a time when you're ready, but still. sigh. ... Anyway, anyone wanna share about what happened after they layed it all down? What kind of joy did you get? (Basically, my heart needs a push in the right direction...)

i have more productive and meaningful things to say than FUCKIT

Kenya is over and to see this space become a “that-time-in-Kenya” timecapsule would be a shame. Kenya was life-changing, but it is not the culmination of my profound life experiences. Not only would that be sad, it would discount what my day-to-day life has to teach me. And, as of late, it’s been teaching me a lot.

But I’ll split those lessons up into separate posts. Right now, I wanna talk a little about the direction of this blog. It started as an attempt to not be a quitter anymore. I’ve had some pretty great successes with that over the past few months, but I’m still sawing away at the root of the problem: See, what most folk don’t know, is that I tend to view my thoughts/perspectives as insignificant. I know ::points to head:: that that isn’t true, but I don’t know ::points to heart:: that it’s not true.

In an attempt to rectify this situation, this blog will now focus on what I observe day-in, day-out. I’ll try to post weekly so that a) I can give adequate attention to what I wanna talk about, b) I don’t exhaust my thought-bank, and c) I avoid making the transition from “Who cares what I think” to “Because, you know, I’m an expert”

What’s more, I’d like y’alls input. (Because, if I wanted a monologue, I’d’ve shut this place down some time ago…)

Anyway, I look forward to keeping this blog up and I look forward to hearing from y’all.


Oh btws… Upcoming topics (in no particular order)—

1) Not wanting to heartlessly abandon Saint Louis
2) My love/fear relationship with writing
3) Men. Black ones in particular.
4) Me: What’s good God? .. God: Me. When are you gunna stop askin me that???
5) Senior year

where you at reverse culture shock?!

I’m not euphoric about being home.
I don’t feel awkward around folk who haven’t been to Kenya/abroad.
I only disapprove of America slightly more than I did when I left.

I feel like I’m not having reverse culture shock because I see everything I’ve experienced since January 14th til now as normal. Not normal as in “everything’s okay,” but normal as in status quo: Every healthy farm, each drop of brown water trickling down open drainage ditches, every belligerent WASP who thinks s/he is right all the time, each perfectly manicured blade of grass, all the self-employed merchants, every wildflower swaying peaceful despite the fact that its home is a landfill is, for better or worse, the standard for the area its found in.

Because I define normal/status quo in local terms, I understand my perspective on my time abroad as a manifestation of glocalization: the idea that the global community is comprised of local communities that can identify and solve their own problems. Lamenting the woes of the world and America’s responsibility to rectify them, then, is meaningless if one does not acknowledge a community’s own power to create their own solutions.

As a world citizen with a glocal perspective, I find it more useful to pay attention to the world’s problems, see how local communities are solving the problem, understand how my country can help, and then figure out how I can help. Unfortunately/fortunately, “most help” may mean not getting involved because we (as a country and as individuals) may not have the understanding, skills, and genuine desire to be of use to really be helpful in certain situations.

Clearly, a glocal perspective can easily turn into apathy. For instance, there were so many times on my internship where I reduced my involvement and justified it with, “I really can’t be useful here.” In actuality, I just didn’t feel like working. A better response would have been, “How does this experience relate to my life at home? How can I use this connection to integrate myself into this activity?”

These questions will guide how I live the next few years of my life. As I apply these questions to various situations, I will gain a better understanding of who I am in the time and spaces I find myself in. It’ll be interesting to figure out where and when I’m completely impotent, extremely powerful, or simply a helpmeet.

Yeah, two posts in one day, but Jesus kinda can't wait

I met a couple in ministry at dinner tonight. This couple had traveled to America several times and had been blessed every visit. This couple decided to pay the blessing forward by covering transport costs for my friend and I to go to Nakuru national game park. I'll be receiving this blessing on Saturday. Yeah, Visions Concert Saturday.

As glad as I am that I don't have to pay for transport, this blessing is most definitely not about money. It is - in the deepest way - about Jesus. This couple is acknowledging God's generosity and goodness by modeling it. All they want to do is remind us that Jesus is at work. It's so simple, but so very easy to miss. I just needed to take some time to acknowledge that what happens in this world is always, always about God.

I was tested for HIV today

For my last month abroad, I'm working with the Youth Programme at Family Health Options Kenya (FHOK) in Nakuru. The majority of my work is doing voluntary counseling and testing (VCT) outreaches in various neighborhoods in the city. Basically, I approach residents in their homes, on their porches, at storefronts - anywhere people are congregated - and try to convince them to come to our on-site counseling and testing center to get their questions about HIV/AIDS answered and get an HIV test. While being less-than-fluent in KiSwahili is definitely a hurdle, my real problem was being so bold as to try and persuade people to get tested when I hadn't gotten tested myself.

In my defense, I don't engage in "high-risk" activities: I'm a virgin, don't do needle drugs, and I'm pretty certain that my mother doesn't have HIV/AIDS, and therefore, I'm pretty certain I didn't contract the virus while I was still in/coming out of the womb. While I'm "low-risk," classifying myself as such creates a certain distance between "high-risk" individuals and me. It makes me feel like I'm not "one of them."

That feeling definitely disappeared when I was waiting for my test results. Real talk, I freaked out a little: I tried to remember if my pediatrician had swabbed the needles before he gave me shots, if the guys I've kissed had had any cuts in their mouths*, second-guessed whether or not I could get HIV from drinking after someone.

You name the potential risk, and I was thinking about it in the five minutes I had to wait for that test to come back. For a few scary seconds, I thought I had tested positive: The tester told me that each rectanglewould turn red if I was positive, and of course, both rectangles turned red. As he watched my face go into "WTF?!" mode, he clarified: A horizontal red bar would show up in each rectangle if I was positive. I only had one horizontal bar, so I was good.

Even though I was 99.9% sure I wasn't HIV+ before the test, going through the test really brought home the fact that HIV/AIDS does not discriminate. While that's something most people know, I feel like the meaning of that doesn't fully sink in until you're confronted with the possibility that you could be positive. When you're sitting in that chair getting tested, your risk level doesn't matter. You're at risk. You could have HIV/AIDS. Period.

When you're in that chair, HIV/AIDS becomes just another disease. Deadly, but no more difficult to contract than the flu. Gaining this perspective removes all conscious/subconscious value judgments you have about people with HIV/AIDS. As progressive, conscious, etc. as I believe myself to be, those value judgments were definitely there. Simply believing that I just couldn't possibly have HIV/AIDS was judgment enough. Taking that test got rid of that me/them dichotomy with a quickness. ...Only if there was a test like that for every high-and-mighty feeling I have. ::sigh::

*I mean I was thinking, "Did dude bite his jaw while he was eating? Did it have time to heal before we kissed?" Ridiculous, right? But you get an HIV test and tell me you don't have the same thoughts.

slowly returning to the blogosphere... MORE FUN FACTS!!!

1. Kenya recognizes Easter Monday as a national holiday. Why? To justify taking the Monday after Easter off.
2. Jinga is KiSwahili for ignant.
3. Toyotas are EVERYWHERE.
4. I've yet to see a house with carpet. (It makes sense though: Valuing clean floors + walking most places = tile floor b/c they're easier to clean.)
5. 2Pac is really popular.
6. Why did I see JaRule on the back of a matatu?
7. Kenyans prefer hot milk on cereals like Corn Flakes, Rice Krispies, etc.
8. Every so often, you'll hear the GucciMane "AYE!" for no reason
9. As much as merchants try to hustle and strangers point when they see mzungus walking down the street, Kenyans absolutely do NOT put up with public, obvious physical harassment of foreigners.
10. Folks'll ask for your email address before your phone number
11. Spoon > Fork
12. People say, "I'm coming" when they're leaving a place.
13. Rembo is KiSwahili for beautiful. Rembo doesn't have an antonym. If you want to call someone ugly, you must say "Wewe si rembo" (You are not beautiful). Therefore, you can only be the negation of beautiful. ...Ouch Swahili!
14. Houses are usually divided by cement walls.
15. The cement walls have broken bottles at the top to keep burglars from getting in.
16. The elevation of a child's slide and handicap ramps are near equal.
17. Matatus usually have Pimp My Ride-esque TVs in them to entertain/draw passengers.
18. People don't really crank up the base in their cars.
19. People's first names are usually out of the Bible. (I mean DEEP out the Bible. Like Josaphat and Rhesa.)
20. There're more wigs, weaves, and perms than fros.

It's a Texas thing.

In the last month, I've been on safari, to the beach, returned to a broken laptop that refused to be fixed, had a flooded bathroom that officially did my laptop in, written 3 papers, packed for a month-long stay in a new city, acclimated to that new city and started a 9-5 job, and started outlining a 15-page paper.

Clearly, I have good reason for not posting. I promise to start writing regularly again/update you guys on the cool ish that's been happening, but until then...

Texas pops up in THE randomest places here: Dallas Cowboys jackets in 80 degree heat, walking down the street and seeing that unmistakable burnt orange on a passerby, men in cowboy boots and hats to show they're important/powerful people, my Swahili teacher throwing up dem horns, etc., etc. Unfortunately, I don't have the pictures to prove it. ::sigh:: Anyway, all the Texas love in Kenya inspired me to rep in a variety of places...



In a tide pool on the Indian Ocean




At the top of Mt. Longonot




Still on top of Mt. Longonot... (I wasn't satisfied reppin sitting down... had to stand up for Texas =))




In a random barn in Meru



I think there are more pics of me reppin, but I have waaaaaaaay too many to pick through them. Anywhos, a little proof of the Texas-Kenya love affair:


Random club down the street from our compound in Nairobi


And has anyone noticed that Kenya looks like an upside down, distorted Texas?





Told ya.

Okay. I'm done. ...But you know I just had to dedicate a post to Texas.