Rhonda's Ramblings

Have you ever fallen asleep during a sermon? Or during class? Yesterday, I didn’t fall asleep, but it’s only by the grace of God, or maybe because I was sitting on a tiny uncomfortable bench.

Yesterday, Paula (one of my teammates) and I went to a distant Maasai village to do a teaching on HIV and AIDS. We went with a missionary and a Kenyan man who was from this village and set up the appointment. When we arrived, we were asked to pay 100 shillings to enter the meeting, (apparently it was a conference that was lasting 10 days) and then were led to a bench in the front row. This is where we remained through the next 4 sermons. Sermons which were in the Kimaasai language and translated into Kiswahili, but not into English. Sometimes I have a hard enough time paying attention to an English sermon, but 4 hours of sermons in other languages…it’s a little much. Since we were in the front row, I couldn’t even observe all of the villagers with their colorful outfits and beads. But thankfully, there were some diversions. Such as the flies that landed on me constantly…some of them even mating while landing on me. There was a little tiny moth flying around and exploring that I watched for a while, but that got boring. They did have an altar call where many of the people came up to be prayed for, and it was at this point that I almost burst out laughing, which I’m sure would have been completely inappropriate. But as they were praying for these people, many of the ladies were being “slain in the Spirit” (I’m not sure why the men weren’t). Now, I grew up in a charismatic church, so this is nothing new to me. But whenever I’ve seen people being slain in the spirit, their whole body has remained stiff as they fall. These women were falling in the sitting position, and they were falling all over on top of each other, and I thought it was amazing that nobody got hurt. It was just a tangled mess of people, which for some reason was really funny to me.

I also had lots of time to think and ponder deep questions. Can one have faith without hope? If I have given up hope in a certain situation, can I still have faith that the end result will be what I had previously hoped for? I don’t really think they can be mutually exclusive. If I don’t have hope for something, how can I have faith that it will happen? I don’t know. I just felt that God encouraged me to have faith in a certain situation that I had previously felt he had led to me give up hope in. Maybe my problem is that I let emotion get in the way too much. Or maybe my problem is that I think about these things while Kenyan women are playing Twister with God right in front of me.

Whenever a new person got up to talk, we expected to be introduced and do our teaching, but that wasn’t happening…and we had no idea what was happening, since we couldn’t understand anything. After 4 hours, when it was past time for us to be going home, they told us that they weren’t planning on having us speak. This is something they had decided before we came, but decided not to tell us until 4 hours after we got there. It was a little frustrating to say the least. We had driven a couple of hours, 30 minutes of it on a dirt road full of ruts…well more like a dirt path. We sat there for 4 hours…and then drove back home, hoping to arrive in the city before dark. Such is life…especially in Africa.

Well the night was cold and my heart was hidden buried safely in a shell
But I knew somehow I’d have to run that risk I’d have to open up myself
But You said, look at the stars on the face of the sky
They’re the same ones Abraham saw
And under my wings I will make you shine
Give you strength enough to love
Oh, I’m getting strong enough
You helped me chip my way out
And open myself up

And for the snow that comes with winter
And for the growth that comes from pain
And for the joke I can’t remember though the laughter long remains
For the faith that brought the finish
All I doubted at the start

Lord I give you praise for all that makes the hatching of a heart

Well my face was smooth and featureless
Just like an egg
And if I was moving you would never guess it by the look upon my face
But you said Man looks without but I look within
I can see the love you hide.
It’s a matter of doubt.
It’s a symptom of sin
It’s a problem of too much pride

I, now I’m opening up wide. (I have no idea what this line says)…..has pulled out from beneath me and you’re teaching me to fly
For the strength that comes with friendship
For the warmth that comes with hope
For the love time can’t diminish
And for the time love takes to grow
For the moonlight on the water
For the bright and morning star

Lord, I give you praise for all that makes the hatching of a heart

I was reminiscing about Rich Mullins yesterday, so I pulled out the only Rich cd that I brought with me: Brother’s Keeper. (I was sad when I realized this was the only Rich cd I have with me). And this song stopped me dead in my tracks. I always forget how much I love this song. It never fails to speak to me. And especially right now, when I am struggling with dealing with the hurt that came from opening up my heart. But, I need to remember that God helped me “chip my way out and open myself up”. And he knows the pain that comes from a broken heart, but he also knows the growth that comes with that pain. I personally would prefer the growth without the pain, but that’s rarely how it works.

I also love the line “It’s a matter of doubt; it’s a symptom of sin; it’s a problem of too much pride.” How true is that? The reason that I don’t want to open up my heart is that I don’t trust God enough. And pride…that dreaded word that seems to be the root off all my issues. I don’t trust God because of pride. I think I know how the situation should work out. I think I know what is best. Dang pride.

So, once again, here I am again with the same issue…pride. So, I am asking God to continue to break down my pride. (Which is a scary thing to ask…it often takes heartache to break my pride ) And I’m asking that he would continue to chip away the walls that I put up around my heart…and that I wouldn’t continue to put those walls up despite the hurt.

I bet if I read my journal from 3 years ago, it would say the exact same things. Will I never learn?

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Let your attitude be as that of Christ Jesus, who though he was in the form of God did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.
Phil. 2:3-8

It seems this passage shows up to convict me in almost everything I read lately.

I really believe that one of my spiritual gifts (as well as one of my primary love languages) is acts of service. Looking back over the last few years of my life, I see how much my servant’s heart has weakened. I used to be content to serve in the background and receive no recognition at all. Not only was I content in serving others, I really enjoyed that role. I still do enjoy it, but I don’t do it as willingly and joyfully as I used to.
I had a feeling before I came to Kenya that my role on the team would be a lot of serving. And I actually asked God to give me opportunities to be a servant and to give me more of a servant’s heart. And he of course has been faithful to do so.

The other day when we visited an orphanage, Vanessa and I ended up in the backyard, squatting on the ground (with the chickens) washing the dishes from lunch. We had very little water to wash them with, and it was a long, laborious job. We did dishes while the rest of our team played with the kids and got to know them. And we hadn’t even finished all of the dishes when it was time to go. It was not what I thought I would be doing when we visited the orphanage. But I’m so glad I got to do it. We did dishes with the sweetest lady named Josephine. And we had a lot of fun getting to know her. And I enjoyed being able to serve these children in a way that they wouldn’t expect.

And I’ve had a zillion other opportunities to serve in the background. Cooking, cleaning, making copies, organizing the guest rooms, shopping, running errands…the list goes on and on. “Menial Mondays” is the name Vanessa and I have given to our work days. I have definitely not maintained a good attitude about those serving days. But this passage reminds me that my attitude in serving needs to be like Christ’s attitude. He was willing to humble himself to the point of death. He taught us by example to serve others. He washed his disciples feet. He was a true servant leader. And that’s what he calls us to:

You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you should also do as I have done to you. John 13:13-15

That’s what God has been challenging me with lately.

Some other highlights of this past week:

Friday, we went to a Maasai community to do a health and AIDS education seminar. The church, which consisted of rough wooden supports with a canvas roof over them, was located on a hill that had a beautiful view of the lush green hills surrounding them. My role was to take the kids and play with them and keep them busy. That was wonderful, because that is what I truly enjoy. Emmanuel was the only one out of the 30 or so that spoke English, so he was my translator. And I especially fell in love with him and his sister Jane. We were supposed to go back to the same community yesterday, but because it had rained throughout the night, it was not accessible by car. Very sad. But I hope to go back again sometime.

Thursday, we went with one of the president’s wives, Mary, to her home village area and visited some clinics and hospitals. HEART (the organization I am working with) has a shipment of medical supplies arriving in Kenya next month, so Mary wanted us to visit these clinics in hopes that we would give them some of the supplies.

While I have had many “Menial Mondays”, I have also had the chance to have some adventures and amazing experiences. And I’m sure there are many more of both to come in the next month.

(I will put some pictures up soon of the last couple of days. I tried tonight, but it wouldn’t work. I did put some new pictures up a couple of days ago, if you haven’t seen those. www.rmfo-pics.net/rhonda

Last night I was looking back over some old journal entries, and found a couple of tear stained pages from 8 or 9 months ago.

Entry 1 I really want to take the risk and open my heart. And I’m going to. But if I open my heart this time, just to have it crushed again, I think I’m done. I don’t want to open my heart again…it’s not worth it.
Entry 2 (about a month later)I don’t understand why God continues to encourage me to open up my heart and tear down the walls just so I can get hurt again. It’s not worth it! I’m so done opening up my heart.

I did open my heart and yes, it was painful. For many months I still held onto a bit of hope that it wouldn’t end in a hurting heart. But this week, those last slivers of hope have slipped out of my hands.

Obviously in those journal entries, I was speaking out of my emotion…but I still feel that way a lot. Why open up my heart to someone (in friendship or romantic interest), when it usually ends with losing a friendship? Almost every close friendship that I’ve had in my life has ended, so why would I want to continue to make more friends when they will probably just be out of my life in a couple of years anyway?
I know that this is not a healthy way to think…but it is the way I think, oftentimes. This is why I close off my heart. And I know that I do it. I put walls up because I don’t want to get hurt. I keep people at an arm’s distance, because I think if I get close to them, it will hurt more when the friendship ends. So, I tell myself that surface level friendships are easier, though I know that is not really true.

So, even though I have given up hope in this particular situation, and at this point I don’t want to open up my heart again…I do hope that God will help me to not put those walls back up….to not close myself off because of fear of rejection or pain…to continue to open my heart and be vulnerable…and in that continue to grow.

I don’t do well with people who are passive aggressive, condescending and manipulate by guilt!!!!

OK. I know I’m only adding one country…but it’s not just one more country, it’s a whole new continent. South America (and Antarctica) are next for this geography nerd.

create your own visited country map
or write about it on the open travel guide

It would be very difficult for one to be a successful Atkins dieter while in Kenya. (I am not on the Atkins diet, but if I were, I would have failed miserably) Most of their staple foods are all carbohydrates. When we visited an orphanage the other day, we were served chiapati (Kenyan’s basic bread product), rice, and a stew that consisted mainly of potatoes. I did have one tiny chunk of meat in my stew to give me a bit of protein.

But last night, I think I made up for three weeks of no protein. We went to a restaurant called The Carnivore, which as you can imagine serves lots of meat products. It is rated by some as one of the top 10 restaurants in the world. They grill all their meat over a huge open flame on huge skewers, and then they bring the chunk of meat to your table while it is still on the skewer and slice it directly onto your plate. They served many different things: chicken gizzards and various other chicken parts, beef sausages, impala meatballs, ostrich, pork spareribs, roast beef and crocodile. I had to try everything, of course. And most of it was really tasty, except for the crocodile. It tasted like fish, but had lots of fat.

I think that protein allotment should tide me over for at least a couple of weeks.

“Has the traveling ban for Americans been lifted?”
A team just arrived from the U.S., and yesterday we took them shopping in the city before they left town for their outreach. As we were shopping, one of the shopkeepers asked Vanessa and me this question. It took us a while to figure out what he was saying, but when we finally understood, we gave him a puzzled look. Neither of us was aware that there was a travel ban. I still don’t think there is (though I haven’t checked). I know that a couple of weeks before I came, there were no travel restrictions for American tourists, though there were cautions, since there is a Muslim population in Kenya and there have been some incidents in the past. I believe that the threat level may have gone up after the bombings in Spain, but I’m not sure. Maybe I should be more aware of these things. I do know that one of the precautions that Americans are urged to take is to stay away from places that are known as places where many Westerners (Americans and Europeans) hang out.

Of course, immediately after leaving the shop, our team went into the lobby of the Hilton Hotel, which is definitely a place that is frequented by Westerners. Then after some more shopping we went to dinner at The Carnivore, which is also a place that is full of mostly white faces. And the shopping center where we do much or our shopping (because it is close to our house) is known as an “American joint” by our Kenyan friends.

I don’t really stress about safety all that much, though I think we should us wisdom. I don’t think we should be reckless, but I don’t think we should worry constantly, either. God is in control, and I trust him.

As we pull our big Land Rover “Defender” into the church “parking lot”, we have to drive carefully to avoid hitting all the sheep and cows that are grazing in the muddy field where we park. The church building is tiny. It is a wood frame with corrugated tin walls and roof: long and narrow with wooden benches. Since we are the “special visitors” and white, we are expected to sit in front of the congregation in comfortable chairs, and we are each expected to share a bit of exhortation. The church has members from many tribes, but many are Maasai. The Maasai people are often the ones shown on postcards from Africa. They dress very colorfully and adorn themselves with brightly beaded necklaces and bracelets.

Vanessa and I taught Sunday school to a bunch of beautiful African children. There were about 40 of them, all sitting on the floor crammed into a tiny room. They were quite well behaved, but a bit shy. We shared the story of Christ’s death and resurrection, using a number of object illustrations. Put me in a room full of children, and I am happy, especially amazingly beautiful children from another culture.

I think today was probably the most authentic “African” experience that I have had so far. I was buying postcards at the store the other day, and almost all of them have either wild animals or Maasai people. And I said to the clerk as I was checking out that since I have spent all my time in Nairobi, I haven’t really seen any animals or many people in the traditional or tribal clothing. And then the next day, I worship together with many Masaii and others from various tribes: taking pictures with them, trying to communicate with them through hand signals, teaching them how to use my camera, and being invited into their bomas (mud huts). Sadly, I didn’t have time to visit their home.

I feel so blessed that in my short life I have had the opportunity to worship the Lord together with those from so many different tribes, tongues and nations.

We have frequented a lot of places where westerners hang out, so it is nice to experience the other side of Africa. I am a bit relieved to finally have a day that didn’t involve any shopping. Because we are trying to get the compound and lodge ready for the many teams that will be coming this summer, we have been shopping a lot. Nakumatt (which I think of as Nairobi’s version of Wal-Mart) has been a regular hangout. I am generally not a huge lover of shopping in the first place.

On our way to church, we squeezed 13 people into our Land Rover that seats 8. Bishop Abel and his family came with us along with a few other people. Bishop Abel’s children are a lot of fun, and we had fun singing with them and playing hand-clapping games, and learning new Kiswahili words on the long ride home from church. We had to drive out to a distant neighborhood through muddy and potholed roads to deliver a sound system to a church that was having revival meetings that night. There are always many people walking along the roads, and as we drove by, I could see or hear a few of them say “Wazungus”…their term for white people. As soon as we smiled or waved at them their faces light up and they smile and wave shyly.

Well, I have so much more to say, but I won’t bore you. Of course, if you have read this far, perhaps you are not easily bored.

For some reason, I want to start this with the line “As I stepped off the plane….”. But that would be a very boring way to start, since the only thing that happened when I got off the plane was that I stood in a long line in a hot room waiting to get a Visa.

I tried to come to Kenya with no expectations. I agreed to come without really knowing what I was getting myself into. And so far, it has definitely not been what I expected (because of course I still had expectations).

I did not expect to be staying in such a nice “compound”, as they call it. It is almost too nice, I think.

I did kind of expect to do lots of menial tasks. (Right now, I am entering all the email contacts for the organization into Outlook Express). I have also spent time helping put together an orientation booklet for the teams coming to Kenya this summer (which is kind of odd, since I don’t know much about Kenya myself. But that is what the internet is for, right?) And I have spent a lot of time taking inventory of the linens and silverware and dishes. We are trying to get the compound ready for all the teams that will be coming in the next few months.

I did not expect to be asked to share at a pastor’s conference. What could I possibly have to say to a bunch of Kenyan pastors? But, thankfully, it does not matter what I have to say, it is God who uses me for his purposes. And I only had to talk for a few minutes.

I definitely did not expect to have tea with the President’s wife and daughter.

I did not expect to meet so many amazing people during my first week here, such as the Gitau family. Mrs. Gitau runs a school in the slums, and her daughter, Winnie, is the advocate (lawyer) for our organization. This afternoon, we are visiting the Coffee plantation that they run.
The Onguti family: Dr. Meshack and his five chilrden are quite fun. He works with Operation Smile performing surgeries for those with disfigured faces. He introduced us to the President’s daughter, and was so nervous and formal at our house when we met the President’s wife…and then 3 days later was at our house, very casual and comfortable, choosing not to join us at the table for lunch because he was too interested in the soccer game on tv. (men are the same everywhere )
Katherine is a Kenyan woman who works for the organization, and from what I have discovered of her, she know everything about anything you could ever need in Nairobi. And she is a lot of fun and very sweet.
Joyce is our “maid”. I kind of hate that term. But she is such a sweetheart, always singing worship songs with a smile on her face.
The list goes on and on. The Kenyan people are very sweet and welcoming.

I didn’t really expect the preferential treatment that white people often get just because of the color of their skin….and I didn’t expect so many white people to be comfortable with taking advantage of that, and expecting special treatment because of their skin color.

The friend that I am here with, Vanessa, is working on research for a book on female genital mutilation (FGM). I have accompanied her and acted as the secretary for a couple of interviews with Kenyan women. I have really enjoyed these, even though they are heartbreaking and hard. The goal is to eventually publish a booklet as a resource for Kenyan women that will hopefully help to break the silence on this topic.

Yesterday, we visited Kenyatta National Hospital, which is the main hospital in Nairobi. I can confidently say that it is one of the last places I would want to be if I were sick. We visited a patient named Rose, who was trying to recover from an infection that occured after they left some guaze inside of her after surgery. But, she is not recovering, because she now has fullblown AIDS, and her body is not fighting off the infection. It is heartbreaking, and tough to know what we can do to help people in these situations.

I am so rambling, but I have a lot to say. Even if it is boring.

I will try to update more often.

If you feel the need to send me something in the mail….

Rhonda Hutchinson
PO Box 63414
Muthaiga, Nairobi
Kenya, East Africa

A couple of more pictures: http://rmfo-pics.net/Kenya-Trip