Acacias and Singing

We went to Nairobi chapel yesterday. It was two hours I could really lose myself in. The music was stirring: a blend of English and Swahili songs. Even Blessed Be Your Name sounded African. The mix sounded like a CD, which is not always the case in PA equipped churches in Kenya. I looked at the the cement walls, the angles of the various wings and hallways and was amazed at how clear the sound was.

Students at Machakos Academy near Machakos, Kenya. We participated in their Sunday school during Africa Based Orientation.

Then during the announcements, they displayed a picture of a beautiful girl from the worship team that died last week, from an unknown stomach problem. And they sang a song that asked what do we do when we feel God is a million miles away... We sing because we know how much He loves us. We sing because of who He is.

I had two images in my mind. First, Breanna asking me why everyone here knows how to sing, and sing well. At schools we went to during Africa Based Orientation, the kids sang together, waiting for the service to begin... without anyone up front. Just singing. The music surged and swelled, and completely washed over us.

My second image was of talking to another missionary under the shade of an acacia tree. He loved acacias. “They are just a picture of Africa to me,” he said. They do provide great shade, but when you look at them, they have thorns that over an inch long. “You will find that most things in Africa have some sort of thorn for protection like that!” He told me.

A rugged attraction is growing and pulling at me here. Every resource from plant, to animal, to person, has to be guarded. We have thorn bushes and we have spikes on our gate. But there is a beauty that lives in this hard land.
The people that walk this ground from childhood to elderhood, know what to do when the rains come or if the ground stays dry, when troubles come over the gate, or a friend drops by... they sing.

Breanna teaching Sunday School at Machakos Academy

The picture was taken by our new friend, Kate, who is starting off as a missionary here as well, and will be working in the On Field Media team.

Sunday at School

Today we went to our ministry assignment. We signed up for a school not far from where we are staying in the college dorms. Four students from the theological college went with us. They were from Kenya and Tanzania.

Our family went to a service for the catholic students. They went through their service in a very methodical way, and had a 15 minute window for me to share.
I spoke about Joseph finally confronting his brothers, telling them who he really was. And that because of his forgiveness, God's chosen people were saved.

I don't know if it was understood or how it was taken. All the students sat very rigidly and were quite formal.

Towards the end of the service, they evidently had some more time. They wanted the guests to offer some words of encouragement. I nudged Breanna that it was HER turn! :)

Actually, the students really wanted to hear from Olivia, Grace, and Isaiah. Grace was the only one who wanted to say anything. She said a few things very quietly, but everyone came alive, almost like the ice was momentarily broken. They laughed and giggled when she spoke.

When I asked Isaiah to say "Jambo" to them, he shook his head and ran to me, burying his head in my lap. The students laughed again.

After our service, we had tea and bread with the other missionary family and the college students who came with us.

On the matatu (bus) ride home to our dorm, the conductor banged the side panel loudly to tell the driver to stop. One of the passengers exclaimed something, and all the passengers (except for us Americans) laughed.

When the matatu started up again, I asked what had happened.

The lady from the college told me, quietly, that the man had gone past his intended stop. She said he was looking at us and was distracted. She paused, then clarified, gracefully, because of how your skin looks different. Poor guy!