Palm Sunday

Flora Hostel is a convent and guest house run by Italian nuns. It is greatly influenced by Western culture. The chapel has daily and weekend Masses, but the people who attend are mostly upper and middle class. We wanted to experience a more traditional African Holy Week, so we asked the MK Fathers where we ought to attend services. Graciously, Father John offered to take us with him on both Palm Sunday and Good Friday.

Father had called earlier in the week to ask our shoe sizes. Why? We are in the time of long rains, translation, the long rainy season. He wanted to get gum boots for us. The streets in the slums are not paved and of course there are no sidewalks. (There are no sidewalks on our way to language school either.) Father has been in Tanzania and Kenya for over forty years so he knows what he is talking about. Part of his current ministry is helping with weekend Masses in the slums. There are six churches in the area where he works. These six churches have two assigned priests, but there are eight Masses. So Father John and two other priests help out on the weekends.

He took us to St. Mary’s Catholic Church, Kanisa Katoliki la Mt Maria, in the slum called Kwa Njenga. It hadn’t rained in the past two days, so we didn’t need the gum boots after all. Father had delivered the palm branches a few days earlier to the priest’s house, but thought he would be taking them to the church that morning. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that they had already been delivered.

As we were driving to the church, he remembered why he usually walks. The streets are very narrow and difficult to maneuver. In his excitement of having guests plus thinking he’d have palm branches on the roof of his vehicle, he forgot and drove. I’m guessing he won’t do that for a long time again. There was barely room for one vehicle to pass. On the way home, he got boxed in. A load of dirt had been delivered while we were in church and unloaded right in the middle of the street. There was no way we could pass. That meant that we had to back up until we could find a place wide enough to do a three-point turn. Once that was accomplished with the help of many pedestrians, who should we meet in the street but a truck. There was no way we could pass, so we had to back up until the truck could do a three-point turn and we both headed out following one another. I’m glad I wasn’t driving!

Father had selected this church because they do a procession before the Mass. Usually they process through then entire “town”, but this year they decided to make it smaller. The palms were outside the church. Several children adopted us helping to create our own crosses. This is Rhinda who was my guide. She not only helped me, but allowed me to sit by her and even showed me around the grounds after church. Rhinda is ten years old and already in grade 7. She must be a good student! Notice her little sister, Mary, on her hip. She was responsible for Mary the entire time we were there. I never did meet or see her mother. At one point I tried to hold Mary to give her a break, but this white skin is pretty scary and Mary wouldn’t allow it.

We gathered about a block away to begin the procession. You can see from the photos here Father blessing the palms at the beginning of the procession. We sang as we walked to the church. The church had been added on to five times as it increased in size. We estimated that there were over 1500 people there. The choir alone had about 70 people in it. There music is so amazing! No keyboards: only voices, hands, rattles, drums and another instrument. You can see it in the hands of one of the choir members. It is made of wood and has to be filled with seeds. They shake it and it makes an amazing variety of sounds. They sing in at least four part harmony. Beautiful!

Matatu Lessons

We had many real life lessons last week. Up to now we have lived a rather sheltered life living on convent grounds in a safe neighborhood. We only walk about six blocks to language school. Yes, we have been out and about in Nairobi during our time here, but we haven’t experienced what it is like for an average Kenyan to go to work every day. We have either walked where we needed to go, gotten a ride from someone, or hired a taxi.

We took a three day course at Tangaza College titled Introduction to African Cultures and Religion. Father Mike established the Maryknoll Institute of African Studies over twenty years ago. Post graduate degrees are offered for those that wish to study African culture. It is located in Karen, about 20 miles from where we are staying.

Father Mike told us that one of his assistants would meet us at 7:00 Wednesday morning at Flora to help us get there the first day. Unfortunately, we got off to a bad start. We had told Moses, the askari, someone would be coming for us. We were ready and standing outside on time, even early. As luck would have it, Kennedy came while Moses was making rounds. Kennedy was waiting for us over by the office. We never even looked there because we were standing by the gate and could see anyone who entered. After about 20 minutes of waiting we began to get nervous. We knew that it took about one and a half hours by public transport. Finally, we connected with Kennedy. First hurdle crossed.

There is a bus stop less than a block away. It was already 7:30 so Kennedy decided that we needed to take Bus 24 since it goes directly to Karen and even stops at Tangaza College. We waited and waited. Every Bus 24 went right on by because they were full. Now it’s almost 8:00. Class begins at 8:30. Kennedy is the expert at public transportation, not us. Finally, we decide to take a matatu. There were no route 24 matatus stopping either, but 111 will take you to Karen. We get on and go across town to a bus stop. Since it’s already after 8:30 Father Mike told Kennedy to take a taxi from there. We don’t make a great first impression on our classmates because it is almost 9:00 by the time we get there.

Fast forward to that evening. It is raining, not just raining but pouring. More people take public transport on rainy days than clear days. That makes sense. Bus 24 comes and we get on. Bless Kennedy’s heart. He’s escorting us home. The plan is that he will get on the same bus, but alight (get off) earlier than we need to. It’s raining, raining, raining. There are huge jams (traffic jams). Kennedy decides not to get off to go to his home, but continues to stay with us. In the meantime, the bus changes its route to avoid some of the jam. Finally the bus isn't moving at all, we know where we are, it is only about four blocks from Flora, so we get off the bus and walk the rest of the way home. It took us almost two hours to get home. We were so glad that they had saved us some supper even though we were late.

After an challenging first day, we are ready to tackle riding public transport by ourselves. It actually goes pretty smoothly. We decide that we aren’t going to wait for the bus, but go ahead and ride two different matatus to get there. We were given strict orders to report to Kennedy the next morning when we arrived. We even made it to class early!

Now I need to describe a matatu to you. Keep in mind that they drive on the left side of the road. That means that the driver is on the right. But just like in the States, the sliding door is on the left. Imagine a van with four rows of seats. There are two more seats up front with the driver. In the back similar to airplanes, there are two seats on the right side in the next two rows and only one seat on the side with the sliding door allowing passengers to move toward the back. The back seat has four seats. That makes seating for 14, right? Wrong! Technically it is against the law to carry more than 14, but on one trip we had 19. John swears the conductor’s backside was hanging out the open door. I don’t think we ever made a trip with only 14 passengers.

The conductor is the person who opens the sliding door. There is a glass window in the sliding door that is always open. Why? He has his hand and head out of the window looking for possible passengers shouting the price. “Twenty bob, or mbao.” When you want a matatu to stop for you, you do a little wave of your hand. The driver pulls over, the conductor opens the door and you slide in wherever there is room, even on someone's lap if need be. In the conductor’s hand are bills that are folded wrong side out in half lengthwise. I’m guessing that is so the denomination is clearly visible to him as he makes change. He also has a few coins in the palm of his hand.

It was interesting to note that above the door of most matatus, the paint is rubbed off. Why? Because the conductor hangs on there while opening and closing the door. He also pounds on it at times to signal the driver.

Nonverbal communication is constantly going on between the driver and conductor. Remember how the driver is on the right side of the vehicle? He can’t see the conductor. The music is blaring so loudly that they can’t talk. When the matatu is stopped, a hit on the outside of the vehicle is the signal to go. Usually passengers tell the conductor where they are going when they board. If not, passengers will do a short shrill whistle to let the conductor know they need to stop at the next stop. The conductor then taps on the window glass with coins he is holding between his fingers to signal the driver to stop.

In the afternoons we went to interview people in a neighboring village. Each of us had a graduate student as our assigned field assistant. They made the appointments and escorted us where we needed to go. That meant that we had even more practice riding matatus. Some even have TV screens behind the driver’s seat showing music videos. One that we rode had a large screen TV right in front of our noses! The students told us that the most popular matatus are those that have the TVs and play the loudest music catering to youth. The one that had the large screen TV was more expensive than the others. I guess we were helping to pay for it!

John thought you might like to see this photo of me. We walked probably about a mile to reach the matatu stop with our graduate students. In had rained the night before and the small stream we had crossed the day before had grown. I’m happy to report that all six of us crossed safely. However, the next day an older student didn’t.

I think we could now ride a matatu anywhere in the city. What practical lessons.

Visiting Kibera

Last week one of our friends Vikki took us to Kibera, the second largest slum in all of Africa. Vikki is a Maryknoll Lay Missioner like us. She has been in Nairobi for four years and is doing great work. But first, a little background information about Kibera. . .

Technically the slum doesn’t exist, even though population estimates range from 550,000 to 1.2 million inhabitants. It covers just about a square mile and is marked on maps as the Kibera Forest. The population density is estimated at 1250 people per acre, or put another way, 37 square feet per person. On average three people live in a typical home that is a 10 x 10 foot mud-walled house with a corrugated metal roof and a cloth door.

In the 1920s the British government allowed Nubian soldiers from Sudan to live in the forest outside of Nairobi. These soldiers had helped fight during World War I and the government wanted to reward them. However, they were never given title deeds to the land. That meant they were squatters with no legal rights. Since these settlements are illegal, landlords are not obligated to provide any infrastructure or services. There are no roads through Kibera, no running water, no trash collection, and inadequate housing.

Most people living there don’t have access to electricity, clean water, toilets and sewage disposal. There is one toilet for every 500 – 1000 people. Because of the lack of toilet facilities (plus there is a charge to use them) most people use “flying toilets”. Flying toilets are human feces wrapped in plastic and tossed on the ground.

Vikki works at Christ the King parish in conjunction with the Guadalupe Fathers. Her first project was a community library built on the church grounds for anyone to use. She designed this marvelous mural on the stairway showing Kenyan history, Nairobi landmarks and even their own church. The library contains mostly books and resources about Kenya and Africa. They have copies of all textbooks from the primary level to university. Students often cannot afford their own textbooks, so this is a service that they are able to provide. They cannot check out materials from the library, but can use them at the library. Vikki is serving as the superintendent of the eight schools in Christ the King parish.

We visited a primary school and John Paul Secondary School. We briefly toured a primary school and met a couple of the teachers. Four hundred and sixty students attend this parochial school with only 15 teachers. That averages out to 30 students per teacher! Can you imagine trying to teach 30 young active children how to read? Since John and I will be teaching at secondary schools, we wanted to observe a classroom in session. John went to a junior math class and I was in the sophomore math class. In each classroom we counted 48 desks. I think that there were several desks that had more than one student sitting in it. Both classes were graphing equations. Students were sharing textbooks, pencils, rulers and erasers. There was a constant shuffling as they shared supplies.

Other educational projects we visited were a Poly Tech school that offered classes in hairstyling, tailoring, pattern making, embroidery and computers. Across the street was the Don Bosco Center training young men and one girl carpentry and masonry.

We have a lot of admiration for the many, many people who work in Kibera to make life better for those who find they must live there because of their economic situation.

We were advised that we could take photos on the church grounds and at the schools, but we shouldn’t take pictures anywhere else. Click here to see some photos we took on our trip.

Pictures are worth a thousand words, but a video says even more. Here is a link to some film footage from Amnesty International.

Meet Some of our Friends

We have been staying at the Flora Hostel in Nairobi. It is run by the Consolota Sisters. It’s almost like being in the United Nations! We have had the opportunity to meet people while eating meals. Some are here for medical treatment since we are only about three blocks from the Nairobi Hospital. Some are here taking language courses, like us. Others are here on business in town or just passing through, Nairobi does have the largest international airport in all of Eastern Africa.

Today I thought I’d introduce you to some of our friends. These three gentlemen live in Hola, Kenya. It is about eight hours from here in a very hot and dry place. Father Louis is originally from Spain. He has been in Africa for about twenty years. He is running a formation house for young men that want to become priests. They currently have two in seminary, five studying at university, about ten in secondary schools and several younger boys still in primary school. Edwin and Fredrick are taking online philosophy classes through a university in South Africa. They have had to come to Nairobi several times to take exams. To do that they have to report to a university here so their exams can be proctored. Once Edwin and Fredrick complete their philosophy courses, they hope to enter the seminary. In our humble opinion, they would make great priests.

Mary and Faustina became great friends even though language was a huge barrier. Faustina had studied in Italy for eight years and trained as a medical technician. She is from Tanzania and was in Nairobi studying English. She felt that it was
important to be able to speak English to help with her work. She knew about as much English as we did Kiswahali, but we did learn from one another. Since Mary also knew Spanish, at times they would resort to Italian and Spanish when they weren’t able to communicate clearly. Although we weren’t able to visit much, it is possible to enjoy one another’s company. She loved watching M*A*S*H with us even though she didn’t understand exactly what was going on. We spent several nights playing games including scrabble. We were sad when she had to leave to begin work. In this photo we had taken her to Fairview Hotel for a treat the night before she left. Aren’t the gardens beautiful?

Sister Teresa and Sister Sia are Maryknoll Sisters. We met them briefly in February and they invited us to come and visit. Since they live clear across town and have busy schedules it wasn’t until last week that we were able to meet again. We love
them and wish we had more time to get to know them. Teresa and Sia are two of the three members of the Maryknoll Peace Team. Three sisters make up the Peace Team: one American, one Vietnamese and one Tanzanian. They work together with groups from different tribal background to open dialog and promote understand and peaceful ways of conflict resolution. They arrived in Kenya about six months before the election only to discover that Kenya wasn't as peaceful as people had thought. Their first meeting was held only three weeks after the post election violence. Suddenly their task included not only peace building, but healing and reconciliation. They are doing wonderful work. We are going to meet again for lunch on St. Patrick’s day

Sister Sabrina spent one month going to ACK Language School taking private lessons. She is an Italian Sister of the Most Precious Blood. She has been in Kenya for two years and already had a pretty good Kiswahali vocabulary. There are two Italian and five Kenyan Sisters that live in Machakos, Kenya. They run an
orphanage for about 75 children. Sister Sabrina has such a quiet, calming presence. She would be great working with children. We also wanted to take her out for a treat before she left. So Mary and I took her to Savana, a coffee shop about two blocks from here for a cup of coffee one afternoon after class. The waitress was so surprised to see a Sister in a coffee shop. (It WAS the first time Sabrina had been in a coffee shop.) The waitress kept saying, “I haven’t seen a Sister in so many years!” It was pretty funny.

Samaya is a Canadian that is working on her doctoral dissertation. One of her contacts was one of our MKLM. She was interviewing HIV positive women living in the Kibera slum. Her research question involved looking at how communities treated positive women. She was so impressed with the women, but so disappointed to discover the promised assistance from NGOs isn’t always delivered. Of course, the government isn’t doing much either. The living conditions in the slums are awful: no running water, homes don’t have bathrooms, most homes are made of scraps of metal, plastic or wood with mud floors. When it rains there is no way to keep the water out. With her last round of interviews, many of the women were sick because it had been raining and was damp. There was no way they could keep warm and dry. Samaya is one gutsy lady. She doesn’t know Kiswahali but still won’t let anything intimidate her. She would leave each morning about 6:30 in order to get to Kibera riding on public transportation. One day she got on the wrong bus. I’m not sure where it ended up, but it was in a dangerous area of town. The bus driver wouldn’t allow her to get off the bus for her own safety. Several Kenyan women realized what was going on and they escorted her off the bus and helped her find transport to where she needed to go.

Living at Flora has been a true education in itself. There are so many wonderful people doing such courageous things.