Tea Time

Each day at roughly 10:00 in the morning things slow down a bit in the working world for Tea Time. This can easily be seen at West Nairobi School (WNS). The boys and I leave preschool at roughly 9:45 each morning for several reasons. #1 diaper changing time. We’re trying to help the oldest socialize with his peers and even the fastest diaper change with your friends standing around watching just isn’t cool. #2 little MAN needs a nap. Again, not cool to be hanging with your hommies while little brother snores in the background. and #3 (probably the most important of them all) There is no need to see a little boy being “hangry.” Hangry is what my father-in-law calls being so hungry that you start acting angry. It is also synonymous with irritable, cantankerous, aggressively lacking patience, and overtly selfish.  Not a pretty sight to see, in children or adults. So we leave the preschool classroom to take care of the necessities.

As we are exiting campus we are often caught up in what I call the maroon migration at WNS. The Kenyan workers wear maroon coveralls while at school and everyday at the same time they walk up hill to sit under some trees in the shade and have some tea. WNS employs about 35 workers, a large number for a small school, to do everything from landscaping to basic repair work in and around the school. Part of the goal of this employment is to provide jobs to as many as possible. In a country where there is a 50% unemployment rate this is a large school ministry.

With the maroon migration happening all around us the boys and I often get swept up in the movement as people cheerfully stop to say hello and to see how we are doing. I try to be cheerful but at an elevation of 6,000 feet I am more winded than peppy. I’ll blame it on carrying a boy, but in looking at many workers carrying things much heavier, I know that I am sadly out of shape. Eventually the migration has moved under the trees and the boys and I find a nearby bench so I can breathe as we begin our own tea time. What I find encouraging about Tea Time at WNS is the method of how it occurs. Someone brings a large kettle up the hill. Not always the same person either. Sharing is always important. People greet one another and relax. Then someone opens a Bible and begins to read and share from their heart. It’s in the Kiswahili language otherwise I would join them. Afterwards everyone gets some tea, chats a bit longer, and then goes back to work.

The happiness of the workers as they return to work is humbling. It’s clear to see that the relationship with each other is important but that a deeper relationship exists and this time each day feeds them beyond the physical. There are none who lag behind avoiding the return to work. None who grumble. While part of me thinks the power of food is a wonderful motivator and this is a great concept by the employer for productive working, deep down I know that the real motivator here is food for the soul. In fact the reverse migration is usually more joyful. They have a purposeful reason for living and it shows. Although I come from a goal oriented land of “time is money” I know that sacrificing the deeper relationship for the end result is not effective of doing anything except becoming hangry. I can’t speak for the rest of the world completely here, but it seems to me that this is a great way to miss the whole plot, and ministry, of being Christian.

The maroon migration may not be as spectacular as the annual wildebeest migration that happens not too far from here, or those crazy birds that fly all over the world, but the impact of this daily migration is eternal. Don’t we all do better, avoiding the hangriness in our lives, with a little rest time each day, fellowship, and immersion in the Word?  So I’ve started making our own tea time with the boys more than just physical food in hopes of addressing our own hangry issues. That way when we migrate out into our world, others will look at us and see a deeper purposeful reason for living instead of something to stumble upon. I’m also looking for some maroon coveralls.

Bee Careful

“Be careful Pops. No pushing.” were the words I heard right after I shoved Michael away from the window. “Thank you Benjamin. I’m sorry for pushing you Michael” could be heard mumbled from my mouth, but in truth, I didn’t care that I had just shoved a one year old onto the floor by the window. There was a bee in the apartment and priority number one was to keep two boys from being stung.

At first I thought it was just one bee but as I was trying to smash the little creature, the bee not my son,  into the window with a block in the shape of the letter M I saw that bee reinforcements were on their way. The bee put up a good fight, he kept moving forward as I tried to crush his little body, and always seemed to end up in the v part of the letter M. After what seemed like an enormous amount of time, I finally managed to catch his wings with the block. It was at this point that Michael, who was now standing next to me, began investigating what I was doing. I’m sure it was sadly comical to any onlookers: man banging on the window with a block…small child grabbing for the block… man pushing child away yet child returning, much like a yo-yo… man shouting at older child to get a book and take his brother away… older child brought a tissue and left… bees outside seeking revenge for their trapped comrade. At some point in this farce Michael fell to the floor and Benjamin began his “life lecture” on pushing oblivious to the bees.

Now with a screaming child, another child telling me to “be careful” and two not-quite dead bees in a tissue in my pocket, a smarter man would have closed the window sooner but that’s another story, things began to settle down. Or so I thought.

While I was trying to console Michael I heard a loud banging. Yep, sure enough Benjamin was wailing away at the window with the  letter M. When I finally got him to stop he looked at me and told me again to “be careful.” Ahhh, life lessons indeed. As much as I try to immerse myself into this whole parent role it always seems to come back to teaching. In the classroom it was much easier to differentiate what I was intending to teach and what my actions were actually teaching. It’s called the unwritten curriculum and I’ve always  believed that it is at least twice as important as the stuff in the textbooks. Your character is the real lesson since the eyes always see more than you intend. In fact I think they see what is real as opposed to what is often the facade of what we hope to present. Which is part of my argument that teaching is more than presenting material. If you don’t live what you teach then all those eyes looking on will know it and the ideas and beliefs that you teach become empty. This is something I try to remember as I interact with my family and community. The unwritten curriculum of the family has long-lasting consequences. Obviously Benjamin had heard what I said about not pushing and hitting, but my actions of a few seconds negated months of teaching. Using the rationale that it’s ok to hit some things is not such a wise method at this age. Or perhaps any age. I can’t exactly tell him that first we learn the rules so that later we can break them. Like my grammar. So now I’ll have to get rid of any bees seeking retaliation for their missing friends without hitting. Or pushing people out of my way so I can accomplish my task. Teacher, missionary, or Dad Extrodinare… living a life of integrity is not such an easy task.

Yes Mom, I remember the little song you use to sing; “Oh be careful little hands what you do… be careful little eyes what you see…” I understand this concept and know all about the onlookers, heavenly and otherwise, it’s just the application that’s challenging.

Baboons, Camels and Kids

After our time in preschool was finished I took the boys to a bench on school grounds to have a snack before the potentially long ride home.  Benjamin played with some leaves while I got the snack ready and then started doing some weird movements with his head, knees, and hands. At first I thought he might be having a seisure, but quickly dismissed it and figured he had probably sat on some ants that were biting him. So I asked if he was ok. His reply. “I’m just dancing.”

On the way home from preschool we were stopped by a troop of baboons. It was more like a gang than a troop, but regardless of what we call them they were large and taking over the road. There was an obvious leader strutting along commanding attention and distance. I was happy to conceede with the distance part of things and his fellow baboonets were thrilled to give him the attention. All in all it was an exciting way to round a corner and screech to a halt.

A half mile away a camel, and rider, were walking on the side of the road, also slowing traffic and acting as if they didn’t have a care in the world. I had forgotten how large camels were until I pulled up alongside of it. Even though I was driving a van, I still felt small.

Of course I didn’t have a camera to give anyone a visual of these things, but feel free to ask the kids what really happened. They were there and can testify that their old man is loosing it.

Count your blessings

Enoch is a very nice man who cleans for us every Monday. He also takes time away from his tasks to play with the boys and help me out when they’re tag teaming me with tears and wails. For a 25 year old guy with no family he is remarkably good with children. His patience is commendable when Michael turns off the vacuum cleaner while he is obviously still using it. Or when Benjamin decides he wants to help “Mista Enot” so takes the dirty wet mop and drags it across the newly cleaned floor.  When lunch time finally arrives Enoch is there to assist with the feeding frenzy. It is at this time that we talk and exchange information on the Kiswahili language, Kenyan culture, and often an encouraging Biblical lesson gets worked into the mix. Enoch is a Christian and is active with his church but like all of us struggles with daily living for Christ.

Yesterday, after a particulary long morning full of tears and gnashing of teeth I heard Enoch singing the ole church hymn “Count Your Blessings” to himself. The fact that he sings is not out of the ordinary in any way, but the choice of song surprised me greatly. Enoch has been out of work for almost five years. While there are large trucks that drive through the city and countryside looking for day or week laborers each morning, Enoch is not able to get even this type of work to support himself. As the truck is pulling over to the side of the road for the men to climb on a foreman type yells out to see each man’s ID. Even though Enoch is a legal Kenyan citizen, with all of the rights afforded to him, he is from a minority tribe and is told to go elsewhere. He is not wanted. This in part is why he lives in Kibera, Africa’s second largest slum.

Recently Enoch, and his parents have been trying to arrange a marriage for him, however, without money this seems an impossible task in Kenya. The bride price that Enoch will have to pay, in cows and money, is more than he can even fathom. He has been working at buying cows and saving money for years. So when I heard him sing “count your blessings” I was taken aback. Here he is with so much in his life working against him and yet he is singing “see what God has done.” Perhaps Enoch has learned what many in the world are still trying to grasp; prosperity is not part of an equation leadiing towards success. Or maybe it is that happiness is not based upon money. True happiness and self-worth has Christ in the center giving value and purpose to life. Now that is a real blessing to count.

“Count your blessings, name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

Are you ever burdened with a load of care? Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear? Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly, And you will keep singing as the days go by.

When you look at others with their lands and gold, Think that Christ has promised you His wealth untold; Count your many blessings. Wealth can never buy Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high.

So, amid the conflict whether great or small, Do not be disheartened, God is over all; Count your many blessings…”