Month: May 2019

As I write this post on the eve of the Feast of the Ascension, it seems surreal to me that I have already been in Mombasa for forty days. I arrived on the evening of the Wednesday of Holy Week with my fellow Maryknoll Lay Missioners, Kathy and Mike, waiting at the train station to welcome me to Mombasa. On the one hand, as most stretches of time in my life seem to go, time has just flown by. I would have a hard time accounting for everything I’ve done since arriving in Mombasa. This is one of the benefits of this blog, as I now have a record of at least the highlights of what I’ve experienced and done. On the other hand, when I arrived in Mombasa, I felt totally lost. I only knew three people here – Mike, Kathy, and Coralis, I didn’t know how to do the simplest things as many things work differently here, and had no idea where anything was and even if I did, how to get there. Not that I am now an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I have come a long way on my journey to become a “mwenyeji”, that is, a local (native).

As an example of my progress, but remaining struggle, is riding the matatus. These combination minivans, sardine cans, amusement park rides (think roller coaster) are the primary form of mass transit here. I now have a fairly decent idea of how to get to the major places I need to get to, how to get to the matatu “stage” (think bus stop, but complete chaos), which matatu to board, where to change from one to another (many destinations require you to “transfer” between matatus, where to get off, and how I get from the drop-off point to where I’m going. However, I still have two major challenges when it comes to traveling by matatu. The first is that the direct routes to and from the matatu stages are flooded during the rainy season, which we are currently in the middle of. There are many times less direct, alternate roots, that are less flooded, but I have enough problems remembering the direct routes. The second major problem is figuring out where to get off the matatu. Although there are predefined stages where the matatus load and unload passengers, there is nothing resembling a published set of bus stops. There is also no guarantee that a matatu will stop at a specific stage. Riders bang on the roof of the matatu to signal the “conductor”, the person who entices riders to get on the matatu and collects and negotiates fares (as I’ve stated in the past, everything here is negotiable), to stop at the approaching stage. Depending on where I’m seated in the matatu, it can be very difficult for me to make out landmarks. I typically have no problem recognizing landmarks when riding in a car where I have a clear field of view in all directions. However, in a matatu, I only may be able to see out one side, or if I’m not seated next to a window, I can only very partially see out either side. Even when seated next to a window, my head hits the roof of the matatu and I can not get a good angle to see outside. Hopefully over time, I’ll learn to recognize landmarks even with minimal visual clues, but I’m not there yet. If I ask a conductor to let me know when we’ve reached my desired stage, they are usually pretty helpful, but sometimes they forget or are distracted.

I recently read a reflection by Pope Benedict on the Ascension, which I found very helpful to expanding my understanding of its significance and meaning in our lives. The more I contemplate the Ascension, the more I see how Jesus’s Ascension is the logical progression in God’s loving plan for us. Jesus, who is God and eternally one with God, through his Incarnation, shares in full solidarity in our human nature. Through his ascension, Jesus’s human nature, in which we all share, enters into the inner life of God. Pope Benedict describes this entering into the life of God as being in a “new and hitherto unheard of way.”

To me this ties in beautifully with what I’ve reflected on previously regarding St. Paul’s Body of Christ metaphor and in my reflections on the Trinity. The Second Vatican Council teaches that Christ constituted a supernatural body out of all His members to be the “entity with visible delineation through which he communicated truth and grace to all.” But even more humbling to me is the fact that through Christ’s human nature, we as Christ’s supernatural body, all share in the life of the Trinity – God’s inner life, which to me is what heaven really means. Pope Benedict states this in this way. He says that heaven is not a place but a person (Jesus), the person of him in whom God and man are forever and inseparably one. And we go to heaven and enter into heaven to the extent that we go to Jesus Christ and enter into him. In this sense, “ascension into heaven” can be something that takes place in our everyday lives… As I’ve stated several times in past posts, how blessed are we that God has willed for us to share in His life. This doesn’t just mean in some abstract way, but rather intimately sharing in God’s inner life.

One way I view the ascension into heaven as something that can take place in our everyday lives is in the way we encounter Christ in others and the sharing of our lives with others. If we are truly the Body of Christ, how can we enter into Christ without entering into each other? By this I mean truly sharing our lives with others. Since coming to Kenya, this is probably the single biggest amazement to me – how others are not only willing, but want to share their lives with me.

When I arrived in Kenya, I almost immediately started language school at the Consolata Language Center in Nairobi. The purpose of me being at the school was for me to learn Kiswahili. While I’m still a work in progress with respect to language fluency, I got a great foundation at the school and am very happy with the classes I had there. However, what I found even more valuable was my sharing in the lives of the Fathers, Brothers, Sisters, seminarians, and students at the school and seminary. This included not only sharing meals together, but also sharing in prayer life and ministries.

So it has also been in my experiences since arriving in Mombasa. After completing my language studies at Consolata and moving to Mombasa, it was time to acclimate myself to my new home and begin discerning a ministry. After much contemplation and prayer, I have decided on a ministry, which I will talk about much more in future posts. However, before I got to Mombasa, I had talked to Coralis, who is the regional director for Kenya and South Sudan, about a more intense immersion experience. As I knew some missioners in other regions, such as those in Latin America, initially stay with host families upon arriving in a country, I asked Coralis about the possibility of me staying with a host family upon my arrival in Mombasa. Coralis was open to the idea and worked to find a host family for me.

My first few days in Mombasa I stayed with Mike in his apartment. Much of that time was spent celebrating the Easter Triduum services, Easter Sunday dinner at Coralis’s with Mike and Kathy, and Easter Monday at Coralis’s with the Veryzers, who were visiting from Tanzania. On the Tuesday after Easter, I moved into the home of Richard and Anne in Frere Town, which is about a 20 minute walk from Mike’s house in Mbungoni. Anne is the sister of Flora, who works with Coralis on her ministry project. Richard and Anne have two children. Their son Joel is six years old and is in the first grade, referred to here as Standard 1. Hope is nine months old. Also living with the family is Dorothy, who is the in-home caretaker.

Richard teaches at Star Institute, a college here in Mombasa that trains students in information technology, accounting, and business management. The Star Institute is located in “town”, the central business district. Anne works for Computers for Schools Kenya (CFSK), a charitable organization focusing on the development and deployment of information technology into educational centers. The CFSK office is located on the campus of the Kenya School of Government in Mombasa, but many days Anne has to visit schools and other training centers in and around the city of Mombasa.

Without knowing me at all, with the exception of what Coralis told them about me, a photo (and somehow they still accepted me, even though I’ve been told I look like a terrorist in my current bearded state), and a brief meeting at a local clinic a few days before I was scheduled to move in, Richard and Anne welcomed me into their home. Anne has since told me that they prayed a lot before agreeing to host me. I guess the Holy Spirit was on my side championing my cause and calming any fears that Richard and Anne may have had.

Since the minute I moved in, Richard, Anne, Joel, Hope and Dorothy have welcomed me as one of the family, or perhaps more accurately, as Coralis likes to often describe it, as one of the “watoto” (children). Yes, they baby me, maybe at times a little too much, but I love them for it. They have completely opened up their home to me. We eat together, drink chai (tea) together, sit and talk together, watch TV together, and travel out together. They have taught me how to get around Mombasa, even accompanying me many times, especially when the way I didn’t yet feel comfortable with getting to a specific destination. They have showed me around town and I have even visited Anne’s and Richard’s places of work. As if Dorothy doesn’t have enough to do already caring for Hope and Joel, cooking, cleaning and washing, she always makes sure that I am comfortable and have enough to eat (or more accurately, more than enough to eat). Rather than viewing me as one more thing to take care of, she treats simply me as one of the family. Anne and Dorothy have also taken an interest in having me learn how to cook Kenyan foods such as chapati, ugali, and mboga (vegetables). While I only take a very small part in the meal preparation, I appreciate the fact that they both want me to learn as well as make me feel fully a part of what goes on in the house. Although I hopefully don’t do anything to be a nuisance, I sometimes don’t know how they put up with having me in their home. They pretty much have no privacy with me in the house. I know some of my feelings are due to cultural differences in that we value and demand so much more privacy in the US. On the other hand, I still view this in terms of how wholeheartedly they have accepted me as part of the family.

Flora, who is Anne’s sister, works with Coralis on her ministry project. FfGoing forward, I will be working closely with Flora in my own ministry work. How fortunate I am to also have Flora in my life. Like Anne and Richard, Flora treats me as family and I feel the same way about her. Flora and I have made a number of ministry visits together and I very much look forward to continuing to work with her. I have also had the pleasure to meet and get to know Flora’s wonderful two sons. William, Flora’s oldest son, is completing his studies to be a nurse. He is currently completing his, what is called here, “attachment” at a Mombasa hospital. An attachment is along the lines of what we would call an internship in the US. Attachments are a required component of most degree certificates in Kenya as there is a strong emphasis on the practical application of what a student is learning. The education system is much more standardized and regulated here than it is in the US. Pascal, the younger son, is in secondary school and hopes to be an architect. Paschal attends a boarding school, which I had the opportunity to visit a few weeks ago with Anne and Flora.

I have also gotten to meet a number of Richard and Anne’s friends, including a number of people from Richard’s church. I have attended services and bible study with Richard as well as participated in a special DVD launch event at the church. The church which Richard attends is currently a housed in a temporary structure, but they are in the process of raising funds for a permanent building on the site as well as the purchase of some adjacent property. The DVD launch was specifically intended to raise funds for audio visual equipment as music is such an integral part of worship here in Kenya. Richard is a member of the group, which calls itself Sons of the Lamb Ministers, that performed on the DVD. The DVD is professionally produced and was shot at various venues in and around Mombasa, including some beautiful shots at the shore. At the DVD launch, a number of acts performed, including some from as far away as Nairobi. At the launch, the congregation treated me like a guest of honor. It was certainly more attention than I wanted, but I know that they really just wanted me to feel at home.

This past weekend, I visited and slept over at Flora’s house in Mikindani with Anne, Joel, Hope, and Dorothy. We had such a nice time. William was also there for the weekend. While in Mikindani, I got to meet most of the rest of the clan, including “mama na baba” (mom and dad), who live within walking distance of Flora’s home. On Friday afternoon before our trip to Mikindani, I went shopping with Anne and Flora to buy presents. We bought shoes for mom and a shirt for dad. When we went shopping, I had to hide in the background since as soon as merchants see a foreigner (I stand out like a sore thumb), the price doubles, triples, or more. While in Mikindani, I also got to meet Anne and Flora’s siblings Paul, Lilian, Dorothy, and Patrick, as well as Dorothy’s husband Steve and their two children Evans and Pascal.

I can’t express how blessed I am to have the love and support of my Maryknoll family, but also that of what I call my Kenyan family. When I asked to have an immersion experience, I really had no idea what I was getting into (as neither did Anne or Richard when they agreed to have me live with them in their home). Living here in Mombasa presents a number of challenges for me, but I’m so blessed to have a family to navigate the obstacles and share in my struggles, joys and successes. I’m so thankful to have all these wonderful people in my life. God never ceases to be outdone in generosity. Struggles and challenges are a part of life, but as I have witnessed throughout my life and especially here in Kenya, He uses these struggles and challenges as opportunities to open our hearts to receive the abundance of blessings with which he desires to shower us.

Good is good.

I assume this is a phase that all new missioners go though. I had begun to let a number of little things bug me. Not only is it hot and humid here in Mombasa, but it turns out that I arrived just in time for the rainy season. It doesn’t rain all day, but several times a day we will get tropical downpours that will last around half an hour. When it comes down, it comes down. If you are caught out in one of the deluges, your feet and pants will be soaked, assuming you have an umbrella. With no umbrella, you have no chance of survival. You’ll have to peel every piece of clothing off and wring it out like a wet towel once you find shelter. Even if you are lucky enough to avoid being out during a downpour, the aftermath is not pretty. Many roads here as simply dirt. Even those that are somewhat paved, don’t have sidewalks and so you have to walk in mud. Sometimes the water I need to walk through to get home comes up to me knees in spots. I resorted to buying a pair of Gumboots, which have helped, but sometimes the water gets in over the top of the boot and my feet still get soaked. Also, I really don’t like wearing the Gumboots all the time as they are not the most comfortable foot apparel and my feet sweat in them. Not surprisingly, anytime I wear other shoes, it is not long before my feet are soaked, even as I try my best to avoid water and mud. It is just not possible.

In addition to perpetually wet feet, most of the clothes I own are muddy and damp. It’s impossible to keep anything dry. Worse of all, once it gets wet, it’s impossible to dry in the dampness and humidity. I don’t have a washer or dryer and most Kenyans don’t either. I have to wash clothes the old fashion way – with buckets of water and some laundry detergent, which we do have. After washing and rinsing, I then wring the water out of the clothes by hand and hang the wet clothes on clotheslines to dry. It sometimes takes several rinses, although I have learned not to use too much soap in order to make rinsing easier. The first few times I washed clothes by hand, it took me forever to rinse the soap out of my clothes. I try not to do that anymore. To me, wringing the water out of the clothes is the worse part of washing clothes by hand. I hate it. I’m like a little baby when it comes to wringing out clothes. Lots of woman here wash many more clothes than I do every day and I’m also sure they also do a much better job at getting water out of the clothes than I do.

Although I had to hang my clothes out to dry while in school in Nairobi, I had access to a washing machine to do the dirty work. Now, as I’ve sadly found out, wringing clothes dry wrinkles everything. So besides, washing, rinsing, wringing and hanging the clothes out to dry, everything has to be ironed. At home in the US, I was always very careful how I dried clothes in the dryer to minimize the amount of items that would need to be ironed. Now, everything has to be ironed.

I had been able to get by washing clothes once a week before the flood gates opened for he rainy season, but I can’t usually wait that long these days. I wash my clothes at Mike’s house, which is about a 15 minute walk from the family’s house at which I am staying and is only accessible through dirt roads that are now often times flooded and muddy. My Kenyan family already does enough for me and they have enough clothes of their own to deal with that I prefer not to try to wash clothes at home.

Given all this, I actually have to plan my schedule to some extent around washing clothes. But it’s even more complicated than that now as the clothes won’t dry in a day like they did in the sun before the rainy season started. Last week, Wednesday was my day for laundry. So I headed to Mike’s in the morning right after breakfast, so that I could get the clothes hung out to dry as early as possible. I typically then spend the day doing things on my computer, like writing this blog, as I don’t keep my laptop with me and only have access to it when at Mike’s. Most of the week, I am connected to the rest of the world only with my phone. Not surprisingly, while washing my clothes last week, it began to rain. At that point, I was well into things with suds everywhere. There was no turning back. I rinsed the clothes and wrung them dry – or at least as dry as I have the patience and energy to get them. Luckily, in addition to outside clotheslines in the back of the house, Mike’s house has a small clothesline in the covered entryway in the front of the house. As the clothesline is not nearly big enough to accommodate all my clothes, I had to resort to using hangars to hang the clothes and then hang the hangers on the clothesline.

Given the rain and humidity, there was no way that the clothes would dry that day. I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to come back to finish laundry. Luckily, I only had a commitment in the morning the next day, and was able to swing by Mike’s house later in the afternoon to deal with the clothes. Of course, the clothes were still slightly damp when I got there, but I decided that this was as good as it was going to get and that I would proceed to iron them as best I could. Just as I was about to iron, the power went out. Power outages are a fact of life here. Not that there is ever a good time for one, but they always seem to happen at the most inopportune times. At this point I gave up on my laundry for yet another day.

The next day, Friday, I had planned to go the the graduation ceremony for Mike’s school – Marianist Technical Institute. Although the school is only a few blocks away from Mike’s house, there is a sister school in Ukunda, which is a few hours away and requires taking the ferry. This year, the graduation ceremony was being held in Ukunda. As the logistics of traveling to Ukunda are challenging at best, I decided to take up the gracious offer from the staff at the school to ride to Ukunda on one of the school buses with the students, staff, and Mike. As the buses were supposed to leave at 6:15 AM the next morning (which really didn’t happen), at which time it is still dark here and so I wouldn’t be able to walk from home to the school to catch the bus, Mike invited me to stay at his house for the night. I had not planned on this and so had nothing with me but what I was wearing and the clothes I had washed. Luckily the power came back on and I was able to iron clothes to wear the next day before we went to bed.

As we had to get up early, 5 AM, to take showers and eat breakfast, we were in bed and asleep before 10 PM. In Mombasa, you have to take a shower before you go to bed and again when you get up in the morning. Typically, I take three or sometimes four showers a day. I also previously forgot to mention that there are no hot water heaters here, so you either have to use cold water or heat water separately. Although I usually don’t like cold showers, I’m fine with what passes for a cold shower here. The water is not freezing and I actually like the chance to cool off. Unfortunately, I’m usually sweating again within a few minutes of taking a shower.

At about midnight, I awoke from a deep sleep from banging and yelling at the front gate. Mike’s house, as many houses here, is surrounded by a wall and is only accessible by a locked, heavy metal gate. The compound where Mike’s apartment, also has a security guard that is there from dusk to dawn. Mike was also apparently woken from a deep sleep as well as both of us had no idea what was going on. People were banging and yelling at the front gate. With banging and yelling seeming to come from everywhere, it was very chaotic. To add to the confusion, it was pouring out – one of the tropical downpours I mentioned earlier. The rain was coming down in buckets.

Our first thought was that it was terrorist attack. Maybe al-Shabaab was trying to get in. Finally, the security guard recognized Mike’s neighbors and friends among the crowd and let them in. There is also another level of protection in the house as every door and window, like most houses here, is barred and locked. The people ran in and began to bang on the bars to get our attention. By then we recognized who the people were. I’ve stayed at Mike’s a lot and have gotten to know many of his neighbors, who are wonderful people. They were urgently trying to get us out of the house.

Mike lives in a two story structure. His apartment takes up half of the first floor. The other first floor unit belongs to priests who typically only use their apartment once a week and were not there at the time of this incident. The upper level belongs to the Bishop of Mombasa. He does not sleep there very often, but rather simply uses the apartment as a place to rest.

It turns out that there was a fire in the Bishop’s apartment, which Mike and I were asleep and completely oblivous to. There are no smoke detectors here, so we had no warning. Mike’s neighbors saw the smoke and fire and came en mass to save us (or at least Mike as not sure anyone knew I was even there). As there was also some initial confusion on their part in terms of what was actually going on, Mike’s neighbors came pepared to defend any type of attack that might be occuring. Many neighbors came bearing clubs and machetes!

Once Mike and I were safely out of the house, everyone’s attention turned to the fire. As most of the strucutures in Mombasa, and Kenya in general, are constructed with stone, the fire was not really spreading, but remained confined to the one area in the bishop’s apartment. However, it was an electrical fire – either a refrigerator or air conitioner- and there was a lot of smoke and the fire smelled really bad. The neighbors tried to call the Mombasa fire department, but the calls went unanswered. Go figure. They were eventually able to get in touch with the fire department in Nairobi, who in turn was able to get in touch with the Mobasa fire department.

Once the Mombasa fire department was alerted, a fire engine arrived within about twenty minutes. However, there were two major issues. The first is that the street on which Mike lives is a narrow dirt road. The fire engine was somehow able to make it up to the front gate. Kenyas are much more accustomed to driving in tight spots and closer to other vehicles than I am. Although the front gate was wide enough for the fire engine to fit through, there was not enough space in the street for the fire engine to make the turn through the gate. So although there was this very modern fire engine right outside the gate, it couldn’t really get close enough to be of much help.

The second problem was that no one had a key to the bishop’s residence where the fire was. As they entrances and windows were all pretty well fortified and locked, it was turning out to be very difficult to break through to access the fire to try to put it out. Furtunately, a priest from the archdiocese eventually showed up with a key to unlock the gates to the residence.

Not to be deterred, while the fire department was attempting to break through the locked gates, the neighbors had already found a ladder, connected up a garden hose, and had begun to put out the fire through one of the windows. I doubt the hose had much water pressure at all, but they were very successful in containing the fire until the fire department was able to enter the apartment. By this time there were also police on the scene, some of them holding machine guns at their side, a common site here in Kenya, which only added to the surreal nature of what was occurring. Once the fire department gained access to the apartment, they were able to extinguish the fire pretty quckly.

After about two and a half hours in the pouring rain, the fire was completely out and everyone left. A few of us were fortunate enough to have umbrellas. The umbrellas helped, but I was still soaked – especially my feet. Pretty much all the neighbors who came up to help us did so in bare feet with no shirt. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either – especially for Kenyans, who are not used to the cold. Mike and I returned to his apartment and tried to get some rest as we had to leave early for the graduation in few hours. The smell of smoke was bad outside, but I didn’t think it was that bad in the apartment, although it appeared to bother Mike more than it did me. I don’t know how, but I somehow managed to get a few hours sleep before I heard Mike telling me that it was time to get up. Mike said that he never fell back to sleep. We took showers, ate breakfast, and walked over to the school for the bus ride over to Ukunda for the graduation. Thanks to our neighbors, we lived to see another day.

When I look back at last week with the prespective of time and distance, I can more easitly see how I was beginning to let small things really bother me – the rain, the mud, the power outages, and difficulty of getting from one place to another. I struggle with the fact that things that I didn’t even think about before, now require a lot of time and effort. However, the experience of the fire helped put things back in perspectivefor me. What I witnessed that night was Mike’s neighbors concern for his well being, people coming out in the middle of the night with weapons in case they were needed to protect him, people standing out in the cold rain with no shoes or shirts, and Mike’s neighbor’s climbing ladders in dark, cold and slippery conditions to try to put out the fire. What I saw were neighbors doing whatever it took to help their fellow neighbor in need. What I saw was people who may not have a lot of material things to give away, give away the most important thing – they gave of themselves.

I’m not claiming that this one, albeit in retrospect, very beautiful experience, has made me a perfect person – I only wish. I still struggle with dealing with many little things. However, I do think I’m now able to step back a little better to get some perspective when I need it. I’ve had to let go of so much since I’ve gotten here – the way I think things should work and they way I have to live my day to day life. I still have a ways to go, but it’s all part of my journey. However, I have been overwhelmed by caring and sharing nature of the people whom I’ve encountered, gotten to know and with whom I’ve formed friendships. These people would literally give you the shirt off their back.

During the past week I’ve happen to come across and read several reflections on the Trinity. I’m not convinced that it was entirely by chance that I happened to see these articles, as they fit in so perfectly with what I have been experiencing in the beginning stages of my journey here in Mombasa. The belief in the Trinity is at the core of my faith as a Catholic, most of all, beacause it reveals the inner nature of God. That is, God is a relationship of persons, not a solitary entity. St. John puts it so beatifully and simply when he says that “God is love”.

Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love.

1 John 4:8

However, this is not just some abstract statement about an attribute of God, but by the fact that God is a Trinity of persons, it is an affirmation of God’s very being. The Trinity is a complex mystery that we can contemplate our whole lives and continually discover new insights, and I will continue to do this. However, I feel my entire understanding of the Trinity is grounded in the idea of relationship. Three persons eternally and perfectly loving one another. How else could three persons be in perfect relationship except as a complete and total manifestation of the love between them?

The good news for us is that we come into the picture as this complete and perfect love of the Trinity overflows from God to creation and thus, to us. Love is the one thing in the universe that the more you give away the more you have. So I believe it is with God. All God can do is love and love completely. This causes God’s infinite love, to increase even more, spilling over into an expression of that love as manifested in creation.

A quick aside. This brings me back to some of the discussions we used to have in college. Are there different degrees of infinity? Yes, infinite is infinite. But if I take an infinite number and multiply it by itself (n*n), or worse yet, raise it to its own power (n**n), is that the same degress of “infiniteness”? I don’t want to think about how long it’s been since I’ve thought about stuff like that. Maybe something to ponder another time.

Furthermore, although in an imperfect form in our sinful world, the imprint of God’s inner relationship of personal love is stamped throughout creation, and most significantly mirrored in our relationships with one another. When we love one another, we express the image of God within us.

Although the past few weeks have brought a certain level of frustration, they have also made me more aware of the love of God manifested in my relationships with others. As I continue my journey and perservere in continuing to let go and not sweat the small stuff, I continue to be amazed at how others desire to share their lives with me. I can’t do other than view this as the imprint of God’s intrinsic nature as a relationship of persons manifested in us His children.

God is good.

It’s been two weeks since I’ve had an opportunity to post an update. There has been a lot going on as I try to settle into my new home in Mombasa, learn how to get around, and at times struggle with doing the simplest things that I previously took for granted.

My first Easter and Easter Triduum in Kenya was spent here in Mombasa. It was quite an experience. As I mentioned, when I first got here to Mombasa, I stayed with Mike for a few days. Mike lives in the Mbungoni section of Mombasa. His apartment is short walk to his parish church and the school at which he teaches, which are right next to each other. Mike’s parish is St. Martins De Pores, which is a fairly large church located in Mbungoni. St. Martins was our center of worship for the Triduum services.

The Mass on Holy Thursday was pretty much the typical Holy Thursday Mass that I am accustomed to at home, but with the now familiar differences in celebration of the Mass here in Kenya – more singing and dancing, larger offertory procession, … Coralis met Mike and I at the church. The Mass lasted about two hours, which is pretty standard for the Masses here. After Mass, we processed out of the church with the Eucharist to a hall located on the second floor of a building next to the church, where the Blessed Sacrament was exposed. I have no idea how we all packed into this hall, where everyone was on their knees with barely any room between us.

On Good Friday, Mike and I did the Way of the Cross with the parish. The stations started at the church at noon, we then proceeded to walk around the area, mostly through dirt roads in the hot sun in over 90 degree weather, stopping at various points to pray each station. There were hundreds of people who participated. We ended up back at the church at just after 3 PM. When we got back to the church, there were already many people there. With all the people who returned from the Way of the Cross, the church was overflowing. The Good Friday service was supposed to start at 3 PM, but we didn’t even get back to the church until after 3 PM. Once we were all in the church, where Coralis met us, they announced that there would be a short break before the start of the Good Friday service. After about a 20 – 30 minute break, the Good Friday services started and lasted for three hours. Honestly I don’t know how the priests, and the congregation for that matter, have so much stamina! During the service, after the reading of the Passion account, the youth group of the parish acted out a passion play, which I’ve never seen done during Mass before, but really enjoyed.

The culmination of the Triduum, the Easter Vigil, brought things to yet another level. Mike, Kathy, Coralis and I attended the Vigil together. Before Mass, there was a huge Easter Fire outside the church, and then a procession into the church in the dark and the lighting of candles held by the congregation. In addition to all seven Old Testament readings, with the singing of a Responsorial Psalm between each one, the Epistle, and the Gospel, the Vigil Mass included 100 Baptisms and First Communions. The Mass was very solemn up until the Gospel, but after that, the joy could not be contained. There was an almost never ending succession of singing and dancing throughout the remainder of the Mass. Just the Litany of the Saints lasted well over twenty minutes. I one point, I suspected that they were maybe making up saint names to elongate the litany. 😁 I think the people would have stayed and celebrated in the church all night if the Fathers would have let them. The priests had to get up early the next morning (Easter Sunday) to celebrate three Masses, including the first Mass at 7 AM. The Easter Vigil Mass didn’t end until just after 1 AM.

Kathy, Mike and I, along with a few other guests, had Easter dinner at Coralis’ place. Coralis prepared a wonderful dinner for us. Coralis’ apartment is on Jomo Kenyatta Beach, otherwise known as Pirates Beach, which is a large public beach in Mombasa. After dinner, a few of us took a walk on the beach. At that time in the afternoon, it was very crowded. People here love to use inner tubes in the water and the beach was full of them. There are also camel rides available on the beach, but I have not tried one yet!

On Easter Monday, which is an official holiday here in Kenya, we all went back to Coralis’. The Veryzers – Steve, Loyce, along with their children, Justin, Abigail and Claire – joined us as they stopped in Mombasa on their way back home from the Kenyan coast where they visited during school break.

The following day, on Tuesday morning, I left Mike’s place and moved in with a Kenyan family, who has generously agreed to host me for a month. I am now currently living with Richard and Ann Mwando, their two children, Joel who is 9 years old and Hope who is less than a year old, and their live-in help, Dorothy. Richard and Ann have opened up their home to me and have made me part of their family. I live, eat and share much of my life with them. I can’t thank them enough for how welcome they have made me feel in their home. As Coralis likes to tell me, they baby me too much! While I am living with them, I’m learning a lot about life in Kenya and get to practice my Kiswahili with them. While some days, I meet with Coralis or Mike, I also do things with Richard and Ann. They not only teach me how things work in Kenya and help me with things I struggle with, but I also get to see and participate in their lives. They are also beginning to teach me how to cook Kenyan food. It is 15 – 20 minute walk from Richard and Ann’s to Mike’s. Mike makes his place available to me anytime I want to visit or use it.

As it was school break, the week I moved in with Richard and Ann, Pascal, who is Ann’s sister Flora’s son, was also staying at the house. Shortly after I got there, Pascal, Joel and I grabbed a matatu into town with Ann, who was going into work. After leaving Ann, with Pascal now in the lead, we headed to Fort Jesus, which is a short distance away from where the matatu dropped us off. Fort Jesus is a fort on Mombasa Island that was built in the 1500s by the Portuguese to guard the port. I believe the name Fort Jesus originated from the fact that the layout of the fort represents the rough outline of a man lying on his back with his head towards the sea The fort is Mombasa’s most visited tourist attraction. Next to Fort Jesus is Old Town, where there are many shops, connected by narrow streets, that sell antiques, arts and crafts. Old Town incorporates African, Arabic and European architectures and features a number of ornamental balconies and ornate doors. Pascal, Joel and I enjoyed a guided tour of both Fort Jesus as well as Old Town.

In addition to meeting Coralis one on one a few times during the week, she took me to meet with Archbishop of Mombasa, Archbishop Martin Kivuva Musonde, as well as visit the Cathedral (Holy Ghost Cathedral), and the archdiocesan Pastoral Center. The Archbishop is the person who sponsored my coming to Kenya. He is very approachable person and gave me a warm welcome. I was so pleased that he took such an interest in my presence in Mombasa and the work I will be doing. I have had the pleasure to subsequently run into the Archbishop on a few other occasions as he has a small retreat house next to where Mike lives.

Coralis has also begun to take me around and introduce me to different ministry possibilities. During the course of the past week, I’ve had the opportunity to meet with a number of different people to discuss where I may be able to help. During the course of the next month, I will be discerning a ministry position with Coralis’ help. Please pray for me as I take this important step. This is why I came to Kenya.

Last Sunday, we celebrated Kathy’s birthday with tea and sandwiches at a restaurant on the water. Of course, we also had birthday cake – a red velvet. That morning, Kathy, Mike, Coralis and I all went to Mass at Kathy’s church in Tudor, which is a block away from where Kathy lives. I also got to see Kathy’s apartment for the first time.

This past week we had several people from the Maryknoll Lay Missioners headquarters staff in New York visiting Kenya including Marj Humphrey, who is the Director of Missions, and Meinrad Scherer-Emunds, who is Director of Communications. They spent a few days here in Mombasa. It was great to see Marj and Meinrad again as I hadn’t see them since I was in the Orientation Program last fall and Kenya was still some far off place. On Friday, Mike’s Catering class at the Marianist Technical Institute, where he is an instructor, prepared and served a special lunch for Maryknoll that the entire school staff and a number of students also attended. Its was a great time. Mike did a lot of work preparing for and hosting the lunch and it showed.

As if he didn’t have enough going on, on Sunday, Mike hosted a Cinco de Mayo lunch at his house for the Maryknoll visitors from New York and those of us here in the Kenya region. With everyone together, we had a half day of strategy sessions and a regional meeting. Dee and Gabe traveled here from Nairobi and South Sudan respectively. Many of us attended Mass together at St. Martins De Pores Church in the morning where after Mass Fr. Dan called up the group to introduce ourselves and tell the congregation what we were doing in Kenya.

I wanted to close with a short reflection on something which I read during the week. It centers around the idea that God is so close to us, in actuality, closer than we are to ourselves, that He is too close to see. I’ve been trying to use this idea to help myself better see God in the world around me and in others whom I encounter.

In times of difficulty, suffering, and looking at the state of the world in which we live, I sometimes lose sight of God in the midst of all that is happening. Yet I know that He is there, experiencing everything with me, walking with me, and perhaps even carrying me when needed. Many people ask where God is, when He is in fact everywhere. God is not out there somewhere, but rather right in our midst, unimaginably close to us. God knows everything about us, but in many respects, I’m still trying to figure out me. I sometimes don’t know why I think the way I do or do the things that I do. However, I know and trust that God knows all of this and for some inexplicable reason, loves me just the same.

I’ve always liked the way St. Paul states a similar thought.

At present we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face. At present I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known.

1 Chorinthians 13:12

God is good.