Joel writes:

Michael,

RE:

Well, I just got back from 5 weeks in Kenya (I'll write some more once
I  *really* wake up (it is 5am, we've all been up for an hour).

Glad your trip was a safe one - get some rest - hope the re-entry isn't
too  tough on you.

I enjoyed the short missive you sent from Nairobi - will look forward
to  more stories from your trip.  (I would probably not recognize RVA
today...)

Well, getting to the end of lunch hour here, but really feeling a bit more 
like bedtime, so I'll write a little on reactions to return home (both of 
them).

This was my third time back to Kenya since I graduated from High School.  
Each one has been very different.

In 1986, three years after I graduated, I spent the summer in Kenya.  I was 
a young adult, with fresh memories of Kenya, but fewer parental 
limitations.  That trip was my closure.  I was no longer a student.  The 
world I had known so well had vanished.  There was still a lot of 
familiarity to the place, and I knew some staff members, but overall it was 
a different place.  I had grown a lot from knowing some Kenyan students in 
Canada, and I saw the country and the missionaries in a different light, 
probably with a few too many poor examples.

In 1992 I went back with Bernadine.  I saw the beauty of the country again, 
but was terrified by the roads and the general insecurity of life in 
Kenya.  There were several burglaries while we were there, and talk of 
different accidents.  Life in Canada was comfortable and appealing, even if 
we did come back for the tail end of winter.  I would say that I almost 
ignored the mission community and the school, but tried to talk to local 
people when I got the chance.

Ten years later, I went back with Bernadine and my kids.  I think the near 
onset of middle-age has me looking more at broader pictures than in the 
past.  I saw the natural wonders through my kids eyes.  I had memories of 
my high-school experiences, and saw two days of school in session.  I 
visited a number of classes and activities that brought back memories, as 
well as huge computer labs that didn't bring back any memories at all!

We had a chance to meet and visit with a number of Kenyans who remembered 
me from the past, even though I barely recalled them.  I felt that I could 
relate as people, rather than national-missionary.  I felt that my 
parents were far more compassionate and understanding of the local people 
than in the past.  I really have to wonder how much has really changed in 
them, or if I see things I didn't see before.

The geography of Kenya is still as beautifull as ever.  I mourn for the 
devastation of the forests that is going on, and wish I had some 
solutions.  People need to cook food for supper.  They can't afford a 
kerosene stove, so cook over charcoal or wood.  They are the people at the 
root of the forests being destroyed.  Should we deny them cooked food to 
save the forests?

I'm angry at the politicians of Kenya who have run it into the ground for 
their own personal gain.  Aid to the country has been almost entirely cut 
off, as individuals in government were pocketing most of it.  What aid 
there is is funnelled through NGOs, which actually accomplish some work, 
and make the government angry because they are excluded from the cash.

I am astounded that I could adjust to a much simpler lifestyle, even for a 
month, than I am used to.  What seems to matter here just disappears into a 
squishy mush of confusion when it is activly demonstrated how little things 
actually matter.  The house my parents live in was built about 80 years 
ago, one of the earlier houses at Kijabe.  Original construction was stone 
with mud mortar.  The upstairs is mainly wood, and all the saw-cuts are 
clearly visible.  There are gaps everywhere between the boards, and the 
doors are all made out of planks.  Who cares?  Does it matter?  A local 
lady we visited for tea was thrilled to own a house.  Her house had a very uneven 
mud floor.  She even had water!  She had scrounged money (a few month's 
wages) to have some men dig a 60' well in the yard.  It was a luxury that 
she was thankfull to God for.  It sort of puts that scratch on the hardwood 
floor in perspective.

The kids actually lived for a month.  We had a TV, VCR, and videos 
available.  There wasn't much on TV, and they never got into it for more 
that a couple videos for the month.  They played with the few toys we'd 
taken, they played with each other.  They had fun!  We have big boxes full 
of toys in the basement.  How some of those kids we met would love to have 
one or two of them!

We had one great experience in Nairobi.  We visited some Canadian Baptist 
Missionaries working with Somali refugees in Eastleigh, a section of 
Nairobi.  We'd met them at our Church for a few minutes, and had heard lots 
about them.  I wanted to see them where they lived and worked, so we all 
piled into the RVA van and went in one day.  They'd recently moved from the 
dirty, dusty man's world of Somali, Muslim, Easleigh, into a nice area on  
the other side of town.  Directions -- "pass the new US embassy on your 
left, the UN on your right, then take the next right."

We all went into Eastleigh for them to show us around a bit, and to eat at 
an Ethiopian restaraunt.  The Ethiopians and Somalis have a love-hate 
relationship.  They fight at home, but the further away from "home" they 
get, the more of blood-brothers they become.  Add to that that the Somali 
world is a man's world, and they figured that Ethiopian food would 
be "close enough".

Well, I've heard much talk on these lists about Ethiopian food.  I now know 
why.  My parents and wife enjoyed the experience.  My kids hardly ate.  I 
was thrilled.  The entire meal cost about Can$30 for 12 of us, and we all 
had plenty.

We had a bit of a tour of Eastleigh, and the ESL school where they are 
working, along with lots of insight into their work, Somalis, refugees, and 
life in Nairobi.

On New Years day we climbed Mount Longonot, a 9000 foot Volcano which 
prominantly sits in the Rift Valley in front of Kijabe.  Bernadine and I 
went, along with a father and son from RVA.  It was challenging, 
beautifull, dusty, hot, and full of insightful conversation.  We left the 
trip with lots to think about.

I was far more comfortable in Kenya this trip.  The roads and drivers 
aren't any better, but I seemed to live with it easier.  RVA is now 
surrounded by a security fence, with a patrolled path inside it.  Nobody 
seemed the least fearfull, although there were always security precautions 
being taken.

---

So now I'm back at work, wondering what in the world I am doing.  A two 
hour meeting on QA and Design Processes was not a good start to get me back 
into work.  I look at our trip, and wonder what I am doing to make a 
difference in this world.  My supervisor is taking off for three weeks 
after today, leaving the group to me.  That isn't any more thrilling.

I love Africa, and I know I will be back.  Kijabe seems to still be a home 
to me, and I know I could be very useful there.  I don't know what my 
background as a Nuclear Engineer would do for me, but somehow, what I do 
all of a sudden seems insignificant compared to who I am.

I really don't know where life is going to take us, but I deep inside I 
think that this trip is going to be a major turning point in our lives.  
Bernadine feels it even more strongly than I do, and this first day of work 
does nothing to make me want to continue in a career of pushing paper and 
following processes.

I don't know what happens now.

Michael

p.s.  Bernadine's diary of the trip is on my website at kijabe.org/kenya2001

I just delivered 22 rolls of film to be developed (and scanned) and have 
about 2000 digital photos to sort out as well.  We are going to add photos 
to the write-up in the next little while.