Tuesday
Mar272007
Africa Trip Recap: Singular Moments (part 2)
Tuesday, March 27, 2007 at 01:21AM
I apologize for writing so much about Nairobi. As I reviewed this first recap post I realized maybe I went a little overboard. Regardless, I hope I was able to convey the fact that Nairobi, to me, is a pretty amazing place.
The next "singular moment" I want describe is going to be hard to accurately get across, but it stands as one of the most meaningful points of my trip...of ALL of my trips. This singular moment is the experience of going to church at the BCC.
Church at the BCC
The BCC (Baptist Children's Center) is home to around 40 kids and quite a few staff: caregivers, gardeners, cooks, watchmen, etc. Running the day-to-day show at the BCC is Tony Wenani, one of my favorite people in the world. As the director of the BCC, Tony wears many hats. He helps supervise and manage all aspects of the operation. He keeps up with the children in terms of their schooling, health and general well-being. He provides information to Buckner staff regarding budgetary needs. He is, in the fullest sense of the word, a "manager." Tony is also something else. He is the pastor of the small church located on the grounds of the BCC..
Going to church at the BCC has been a highlight of my Africa travels. I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but I am not what you would call a real regular in church. I struggle with this part of my walk, and will leave it at that. However, if I could swing it somehow so that I could attend church at the BCC on a regular basis, I would never miss. I think it's a combination of the Swahili language, the music, the heartfelt praise that goes on, the presence of so many children, and the gentle, genuine, loving spirit displayed by so many of the Kenyans I've met that lures me.
Now, don't get me wrong. I know that above all things church is about worship and learning. It doesn't matter if you're in Nairobi, Kenya, or Pencil Bluff, Arkansas. If a church doesn't focus on God then it falls flat. But that's the thing about the BCC church...I have rarely, if ever, been a part of a service where God - and his goodness - was such an integral, understood, implicit part of everything that goes on. I think a large part of this...adoration...is the fact that most of the congregates, which includes the BCC children and staff as well as people from the local community, have a deep, passionate sense for the sufficiency of God. Their lives are such that self-pity, despair even, is an ever present danger and a real reliance upon God is a necessary ingredient of faith. I may be wrong, but I sense that due to the fact these people are living so close to the edge in terms of poverty, loneliness, despair, and hopelessness, they have developed a more genuine appreciation for God's mercy and grace, and are more enthusiastic in their praise and more focused in their thanks. If I'm right (and I may not be), I can't help but to consider the irony in the situation: these people who seem to lack so much, who would seem to me to have so little to be thankful for, are most filled with praise and thanksgiving, acknowledging God's goodness in what little they possess and hope for.
When I sit among these fine people, I see around me a church of the most basic construction. And it's beautiful. Simple wooden benches to sit upon. Open windows to allow the breeze. A tin roof held in place by wooden beams. A basic altar-slash-podium behind which the preacher begins his sermon. There aren't even any lights, only the natural sunlight coming in through the open doors and windows.
There is a very basic sound system, consisting of two microphones and two old speakers in the back, long past their prime - the sound coming from them isn't very good. There is a keyboard, a djembe drum and a very old looking drum set.
The service itself would be familiar to most of us. There is a time of greeting, of hand shaking and introductions. Then comes the music. Now, I'm not one who normally gets all revved up about the music portion of a service. For starters, I have a painfully poor singing voice. Secondly, in most churches I've attended the singing isn't done very...enthusiastically. Most people seem as if they just want to get it over with, which, by the way, is how I feel as well. But not here. Here, at the BCC, I could go on with the music for an hour, maybe two hours. The joyful noise created here is unmatched in my limited church-going experience. I suspect that those who attend, or who have attended, predominately black churches, where passionate, soulful singing seems to be tradition, might know where I'm coming from. But different. More African (obviously), more rhythmic, distinctive in sound and pace and cadence. The Swahili language contributes, undoubtedly, to give the music a more sing-song, lyrical quality. Even though I don't know the language, I can sing along, using the songbook as a guide (English speakers can at least pronounce Swahili pretty accurately, even without knowing the words.) And motion, always motion. Everyone sways and claps and bows and spins, raising arms here and stepping in circles there. Can you imagine such a scene in your church? And, speaking of motion, let me assure you that the Kenyan people are able to move with a grace and fluidity that us "mzungus" can only dream about (I'll let you look up the word "mzungu" on your own). When Ecclesiastes speaks of "a time to dance", this is surely what is meant.
After the music (no, don't end!), Tony presents the message. Again, the message is delivered such that we would all be familiar. Normally, I'm sure, Tony preaches in Swahili, but for our benefit he speaks in English, employing a translator to speak to the non-English speakers. (Actually, during my March trip one of our trip participants, Rev. Kevin Hall, presented the message and Tony translated to Swahili.) It's fascinating to me to hear the words of the Bible translated to another language. To hear what appears to me as babble, but to know that the meaning of these unknown words is the very same as what I might hear in the US, is a profound thing. The Bible I know and read is the very same word of God that these Kenyans know and read, and, despite our many differences, we worship the same God. We really are members of the same family.
One great thing about church at the BCC is, of course, the kids. The BCC kids, and kids from the community. I love sitting with them, listening to them sing, listening to them recite verses. They are so well behaved. They listen, they participate, they worship. Some of the kids play the djembe during the music, others help with the microphones. Few, if any of them, wiggle or fuss, not even the littlest. They humble me with their knowledge of scripture and their ability to sing, they inspire me and make me proud.
There is an offering, by the way, during the service. Two of the BCC children pass a small pouch on either side of the church collecting the gifts of those who give. It is very humbling to see members of the congregation giving their tithe, knowing what a sacrifice even a few shillings must be. I can't help but think of the $40, $80, $100 dollars in my pocket, 3 months wage for some of them, as it just sits there, doing nothing. (One of the enduring questions raised by my trips is "What do I do with what I've been given?") Despite the nagging sense of shame, I am touched by the willingness I see to sacrifice monetarily.
The service concludes as most others. There is prayer - eloquent, soulful - and a benediction. After it ends, we file outside, pausing at the door to shake Tony's hand (and Kevin's) and begin to mingle with the others, meeting those we might have missed inside. The two times I've been (once we went to church at another place...similar experience) there have been lots of children present who don't live at the BCC, children we don't know, so we spend some time visiting with them and their mothers after the service. Eventually, though, people begin to move towards home, or, in the case of the BCC folks, towards the Dining Hall for lunch.
All in all, Sunday service at the BCC creates in me a sense of peace, a sense of joy and reverence, a sense of God's presence and love. I can't wait to go back.
A little girl from the community all dressed up.
A mother and daughter headed to church.
Tony (on right) and translator preaching.
Grace (a caregiver) teaching Sunday School prior to church.
The next "singular moment" I want describe is going to be hard to accurately get across, but it stands as one of the most meaningful points of my trip...of ALL of my trips. This singular moment is the experience of going to church at the BCC.
Church at the BCC
The BCC (Baptist Children's Center) is home to around 40 kids and quite a few staff: caregivers, gardeners, cooks, watchmen, etc. Running the day-to-day show at the BCC is Tony Wenani, one of my favorite people in the world. As the director of the BCC, Tony wears many hats. He helps supervise and manage all aspects of the operation. He keeps up with the children in terms of their schooling, health and general well-being. He provides information to Buckner staff regarding budgetary needs. He is, in the fullest sense of the word, a "manager." Tony is also something else. He is the pastor of the small church located on the grounds of the BCC..
Going to church at the BCC has been a highlight of my Africa travels. I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but I am not what you would call a real regular in church. I struggle with this part of my walk, and will leave it at that. However, if I could swing it somehow so that I could attend church at the BCC on a regular basis, I would never miss. I think it's a combination of the Swahili language, the music, the heartfelt praise that goes on, the presence of so many children, and the gentle, genuine, loving spirit displayed by so many of the Kenyans I've met that lures me.Now, don't get me wrong. I know that above all things church is about worship and learning. It doesn't matter if you're in Nairobi, Kenya, or Pencil Bluff, Arkansas. If a church doesn't focus on God then it falls flat. But that's the thing about the BCC church...I have rarely, if ever, been a part of a service where God - and his goodness - was such an integral, understood, implicit part of everything that goes on. I think a large part of this...adoration...is the fact that most of the congregates, which includes the BCC children and staff as well as people from the local community, have a deep, passionate sense for the sufficiency of God. Their lives are such that self-pity, despair even, is an ever present danger and a real reliance upon God is a necessary ingredient of faith. I may be wrong, but I sense that due to the fact these people are living so close to the edge in terms of poverty, loneliness, despair, and hopelessness, they have developed a more genuine appreciation for God's mercy and grace, and are more enthusiastic in their praise and more focused in their thanks. If I'm right (and I may not be), I can't help but to consider the irony in the situation: these people who seem to lack so much, who would seem to me to have so little to be thankful for, are most filled with praise and thanksgiving, acknowledging God's goodness in what little they possess and hope for.
When I sit among these fine people, I see around me a church of the most basic construction. And it's beautiful. Simple wooden benches to sit upon. Open windows to allow the breeze. A tin roof held in place by wooden beams. A basic altar-slash-podium behind which the preacher begins his sermon. There aren't even any lights, only the natural sunlight coming in through the open doors and windows.
There is a very basic sound system, consisting of two microphones and two old speakers in the back, long past their prime - the sound coming from them isn't very good. There is a keyboard, a djembe drum and a very old looking drum set.The service itself would be familiar to most of us. There is a time of greeting, of hand shaking and introductions. Then comes the music. Now, I'm not one who normally gets all revved up about the music portion of a service. For starters, I have a painfully poor singing voice. Secondly, in most churches I've attended the singing isn't done very...enthusiastically. Most people seem as if they just want to get it over with, which, by the way, is how I feel as well. But not here. Here, at the BCC, I could go on with the music for an hour, maybe two hours. The joyful noise created here is unmatched in my limited church-going experience. I suspect that those who attend, or who have attended, predominately black churches, where passionate, soulful singing seems to be tradition, might know where I'm coming from. But different. More African (obviously), more rhythmic, distinctive in sound and pace and cadence. The Swahili language contributes, undoubtedly, to give the music a more sing-song, lyrical quality. Even though I don't know the language, I can sing along, using the songbook as a guide (English speakers can at least pronounce Swahili pretty accurately, even without knowing the words.) And motion, always motion. Everyone sways and claps and bows and spins, raising arms here and stepping in circles there. Can you imagine such a scene in your church? And, speaking of motion, let me assure you that the Kenyan people are able to move with a grace and fluidity that us "mzungus" can only dream about (I'll let you look up the word "mzungu" on your own). When Ecclesiastes speaks of "a time to dance", this is surely what is meant.
After the music (no, don't end!), Tony presents the message. Again, the message is delivered such that we would all be familiar. Normally, I'm sure, Tony preaches in Swahili, but for our benefit he speaks in English, employing a translator to speak to the non-English speakers. (Actually, during my March trip one of our trip participants, Rev. Kevin Hall, presented the message and Tony translated to Swahili.) It's fascinating to me to hear the words of the Bible translated to another language. To hear what appears to me as babble, but to know that the meaning of these unknown words is the very same as what I might hear in the US, is a profound thing. The Bible I know and read is the very same word of God that these Kenyans know and read, and, despite our many differences, we worship the same God. We really are members of the same family.
One great thing about church at the BCC is, of course, the kids. The BCC kids, and kids from the community. I love sitting with them, listening to them sing, listening to them recite verses. They are so well behaved. They listen, they participate, they worship. Some of the kids play the djembe during the music, others help with the microphones. Few, if any of them, wiggle or fuss, not even the littlest. They humble me with their knowledge of scripture and their ability to sing, they inspire me and make me proud.
There is an offering, by the way, during the service. Two of the BCC children pass a small pouch on either side of the church collecting the gifts of those who give. It is very humbling to see members of the congregation giving their tithe, knowing what a sacrifice even a few shillings must be. I can't help but think of the $40, $80, $100 dollars in my pocket, 3 months wage for some of them, as it just sits there, doing nothing. (One of the enduring questions raised by my trips is "What do I do with what I've been given?") Despite the nagging sense of shame, I am touched by the willingness I see to sacrifice monetarily.
The service concludes as most others. There is prayer - eloquent, soulful - and a benediction. After it ends, we file outside, pausing at the door to shake Tony's hand (and Kevin's) and begin to mingle with the others, meeting those we might have missed inside. The two times I've been (once we went to church at another place...similar experience) there have been lots of children present who don't live at the BCC, children we don't know, so we spend some time visiting with them and their mothers after the service. Eventually, though, people begin to move towards home, or, in the case of the BCC folks, towards the Dining Hall for lunch.
All in all, Sunday service at the BCC creates in me a sense of peace, a sense of joy and reverence, a sense of God's presence and love. I can't wait to go back.
A little girl from the community all dressed up.
A mother and daughter headed to church.
Tony (on right) and translator preaching.
Grace (a caregiver) teaching Sunday School prior to church.
in Africa
Africa
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