My Journey

After a lot of discernment, I have decided on a ministry. I actually started the role a few weeks ago at the beginning of June. After six months of preparation – language school, immersion and getting acclimated to Kenya and Mombasa, where I will be living and working for at least the next few years – I’m finally in a position where I can start working with and helping others in a greater capacity. This is why I came to Kenya.

As I understand is the case with a lot of missioners, my ministry is not exactly what I thought I would be doing when I decided to come to Kenya. However, I feel I have made the right decision. I had originally thought that I would teach – most likely computers, or possibly math and science. However, our Lord led me in a slightly different direction.

My ministry role is administrator for the H.O.P.E Project, which serves orphans infected and/or affected by HIV/AIDS across 10 parishes in Mombasa. H.O.P.E. stands for Helping Orphans Pursue Education. The goal of the project is to provide orphans with access to an education and the prospect of a career so that the can be self-reliant and have the best opportunity possible to succeed in life. H.O.P.E attempts to accomplish this by paying for school fees, exams, uniforms, shoes, books and other school supplies based on need. Some students are funded fully and others only partially. H.O.P.E. also pays for transportation and meals and in special cases, boarding, depending on circumstances. Since its inception in 1999, H.O.P.E. has assisted about 2800 orphans. There are 138 orphans currently being served by H.O.P.E.

H.O.P.E. also runs tutorial sessions for the students – every Saturday while school is in session and three times a week during school breaks. There are also number of events hosted throughout the year for the orphans and their families. These range from sports days to seminars to assist with family and social issues to retreat type sessions for spiritual enrichment. 

Kenya is one of the most HIV affected countries in the world, with an estimated 1.6 million people currently affected by the disease and many tens of thousands of new cases reported each year. With approximately 36,000 AIDS related deaths yearly, many children have lost at least one parent to AIDS, while sadly some have lost both. Of the 2.6 million orphaned children in Kenya, close to 1 million, nearly 40% of all orphans, lost their parents to HIV/AIDS. Even if there is a surviving parent, that parent will most likely be HIV positive. On top of this, more than 40% of the Kenyan population lives below the national poverty level and the unemployment rate is more than 40%, so even children with a remaining parent are very often either abandoned or left with a relative. As most often the relative either has school children of their own to support, or simply doesn’t have the means due to the poverty and unemployment situation, these guardians are unable to provide for the educational needs of the orphaned child. Without an education and with no prospect for a job, youths end up out on the streets where they are vulnerable to radicalization, trafficking, exploitation, gangs, drugs and diseases. 

The goal of the H.O.P.E. project is to ensure that no child orphaned by AIDS is deprived of a basic education. Through a holistic approach addressing the orphan’s well-being and the development of a healthy environment in which to thrive, the hope is to provide the best chance of success for each orphan and their guardian/family. Without this type of healthy and safe environment to learn, grow and mature, and the opportunity for an education, many of these children would end up living on the streets where they are vulnerable to exploitation, radicalization, gangs, drugs and disease. Through the power of education, the hope is to eventually reintegrate these children into society as valuable, contributing members.

My role as administrator will be to manage the operation and finances of the project, promote donor relations and funding, maintain project data, coordinate with the H.O.P.E. board of advisors, report on the project, and maintain community relations. Working hand in hand with me will be Florah, who has been a full time social worker on the project for a number of years.

I am taking over the project from Coralis, who was the coordinator for the project early on in its existence and more recently has been the administrator for H.O.P.E. for the past four years. Coralis has been a Maryknoll Lay Missioner since 2000 and has served most of this time in Kenya, but is returning to the US at the end of the year. Coralis was born in the Philippines, but moved to the US after college where she lived in San Francisco and raised five children. Coralis was an investment banking firm administrator before joining Maryknoll.

Although I didn’t necessarily want to work in a ministry role as an administrator, the more I learned about the H.O.P.E. project, the more I got hooked. I was initially concerned about not working directly with people, but although nominally an administrative role, that is not the case with H.O.P.E. I will work with a number of different groups of people in my ministry job. First and foremost, I’ll be working with the orphans – getting to know them, their life situations, and their educational needs. I’ll also be tutoring them in our weekly sessions and three times a week sessions during school break. I’ll be working with the guardians’ who are responsible for the children and doing home visits to understand their home life situations. I’ll be working with H.O.P.E. board of advisors on strategy, assessments, and candidate applications. I’ll be working with the schools that the orphans attend, meeting the school headmasters and in some cases teachers . I’ll be working the community of health care professionals and health care volunteers, who identify the candidates and provide health care services to the orphans and their families. Finally, I’ll be working with Florah, my good friend and coworker. Florah is a Kenyan and has been working with H.O.P.E. as a social worker for many years. Florah is the sister of Anne, in whose home I am currently living together with her husband Richard and two children Joel and Hope.

Prior to discerning doing my ministry as the administrator for the H.O.P.E. Project, I looked at a number of other potential ministry jobs, including teaching computer classes at a technical institute. In fact initially, I thought that this might be the ministry I ended up choosing. While I know that I would have been completely happy teaching at the school, which is wonderful environment and would have provided me the opportunity to work with students all day, which is what I thought I wanted to do, I ultimately decided on H.O.P.E. Even after I made my decision, Coralis and I discussed potentially working on H.O.P.E. only part time and also teaching computer classes. In the end, I decided against this as I think it is better that I focus on one thing for now. The more I learn about H.O.P.E. the more ideas I have on new things that I want to try to implement. I’ll be sharing everything I’m doing on H.O.P.E. in future blog posts. Right now, however,  I need time to not only learn all the details of administering the project (luckily Coralis is around until the end of the year), but also want the opportunity to start exploring some new things. All of this is in addition to the normal day to day activities of the project that are ongoing. If in the future, I feel I have some spare time and want to supplement my H.O.P.E. ministry with teaching computer classes, I think the door will still be open for me to do that.

While I’m completely happy with my H.O.P.E. ministry role, it does present a few challenges, but which in the scheme of things, are relatively minor. The first is that we have two locations for H.O.P.E. – Changamwe and Mbungoni. While the two locations are less than nine miles apart, traveling between them is not pleasant. It takes slightly over an hour door to door and involves walking, which is fine when it’s not pouring rain, and two matatus, the infamous minivan/minibuses that serve as public transportation here. I’m not yet certain where I’m going to live once I move out from Richard and Anne’s home, but as I can’t live in two places at once, some commuting is going to be necessary. If there was just one location, I would simply find a place close to it and problem solved. On a positive note, Maryknoll treats the commute as part of your ministry work day. So although the commute doesn’t necessarily mean more work time, I’d much rather be spending my time doing something “productive” rather than riding matatus. However, as Coralis keeps telling me, I need to get over that type of mindset. Everything we do here can be ministry. It’s all in how we do it. Being present to those riding the matatu with me is ministry. I’m unfortunately still working on fully accepting and internalizing this. The second unpleasantry is that I will typically have to work on Saturdays. That is when the tutorial sessions are as the children are in classes at school during the week. My work week is now Tuesday through Saturday, with Sunday and Monday off. I guess it doesn’t really matter that much that I’m shifting my weekend, except for the fact it makes it difficult to do weekend activities with others. However, as all the other missioners here in Kenya, with the exception of Coralis, have been able to negotiate their work schedules as to work Monday to Thursday – same number of hours, just more hours per day – and have a three day weekend almost every week, this makes working on Saturdays and even harder pill to swallow. :0)

I thought it providential that the Second Reading yesterday, the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, talks about the virtue of hope – just as I begin my ministry on the H.O.P.E. (hope) project.

“… we boast in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint …” (Romans 5:2-5)

As St. Paul tells us, hope in the glory of God because it does not disappoint. Yes, there will be afflictions – struggles, challenges, and disappointments, but persevere. God will give us the graces we need to endure, but more than just that, to thrive. The struggles that we face will transform us if we allow them to, if we open our hearts in trust to our Lord who loves us without limit and gently prods us along the path of sharing our life together with him.

As I begin my ministry here in Mombasa, Kenya, I am both excited and grateful that God has given me the opportunity to service him in this capacity, but at the same time anxious as I want to do a good job in serving those I’m called to help. I fully know and expect that there will be many challenges ahead, but I trust in God and know that all things will work out for good as hope does not disappoint. I boast in the hope (H.O.P.E.) of the glory of God. Please pray for me as I begin this new phase of my journey.

God is good.

Yesterday was the Feast of Pentecost, the day considered the birthday of the Church, the day in which we celebrate the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on the disciples gathered in the Upper Room. On this day, Jesus invites us, the Church, to participate in his divine life by sending his spirit to dwell within us. Jesus gives us an Advocate to be with us always. He does not leave us orphans, but fills us with himself. Jesus tells us that the Advocate will teach us everything and guide us in all truth. He will our hearts and strengthen us. The gifts of the Spirit enable us to follow Christ and be witnesses of the truth, which is Christ, to the world.

Although not part of the Mass readings for today, the Gospel passages related to Pentecost that I really like are when Jesus tells the Apostles that he is going to the Father and that they will no longer see him. Upon hearing this, Jesus tells us that the Apostles hearts were full of grief. How could it be otherwise for those who truly encountered our God in the flesh – at least those whose hearts were open to accept him. But Jesus proceeds to explain that it is better that he goes because if he does not go, the Advocate will not come, but if he does goes, he will send the Advocate to them. Jesus promises the Apostles that their grief upon his leaving will turn to joy. Jesus then goes on to make a beautiful analogy to the joy which we can expect – “When a woman is in labor, she is in anguish because her hour has arrived; but when she has given birth to a child, she no longer remembers the pain because of her joy that a child has been born into the world.” (John 16:21) How blessed are we that Jesus has shared his divine life with us by sending his spirit to dwell within us. Jesus told the Apostles on the night before he died to not let their hearts be troubled, but to have faith in him. Jesus promised them, as he does us, that he will take us to himself, so that where he is, we may also be. Jesus’s sending of his spirit makes this possible. Come Holy Spirit, set our hearts on fire with your love.

This morning Dorothy and I went to the 8:30 AM Mass at St. Martin de Porres in Mbungoni, which is a little over a twenty minute walk from the house. We arrived at the church at about 8:25 and there was a large crowd of people gathered outside the church. I was not surprised to realized that the 7 AM Mass had not yet finished. Masses running way over are very common here. Truth be told, the 8:30 AM Mass is actually supposed to be an 8 AM Mass (at least according to the church bulletin), but since I’ve been going to Mass at this church, the 8 AM Mass has never started before 8:30 AM and usually starts later that that. It may make me a bad Catholic, but I now just treat the Mass as an 8:30 AM Mass. Today, the 7 AM Mass ended up getting out at around 8:50 AM – almost an hour past the published start time of the second Mass.

What I found amazing was that the Mass I was attending started at only a few minutes past 9 AM. The people from the 7 AM Mass were able to exit the church and those of us waiting outside for the next Mass were able to enter the church and be seated in under fifteen minutes. As we all have experienced, Mass goers typically forget all about the Gospel once the Mass ends and people want to get home. In the US, this is most evident in the church parking lot, where everyone is in a rush to be the first ones to exit, which makes things even worse. While almost everyone walks to church here, the parking lot is not an issue, but exiting the church itself can be a free for all. However, what is even more amazing to me is that Fr. Dan, the parish priest, goes from one Mass into the other with virtually no break. When the Mass I attended was over at about 11:45 AM, the people waiting for the next Mass, the “10:30 AM Mass”, were outside the church. They streamed in as soon as we exited so that the next Mass could begin. I don’t know how Father has the stamina to do these back to back to back Masses. Remember, these are not your typical one hour and done Masses. These Masses are typically two to almost three hours long and during these Masses, Father will preach from forty five minutes to an hour.

The Mass itself was pretty typical for a Mass here, although it was a little amped up for the Feast of Pentecost. The choir at St. Martin’s is very large consisting of several dozen people, who occupy the front rows of one aisle of the church. As in most churches in Kenya, the choir is accompanied by an electronic keyboard playing a synthesized back beat. The choir is also accompanied by a drum and a kayamba, which is a flat musical instrument made of reed and filled with seeds that is shaken to produce sound similar to the way a rattle works. During the entrance procession, the offertory, and the recessional, about fifteen children lead the procession by dancing while walking. During most songs during the Mass, the congregation claps along and/or waves their hands. Some people even accompany the songs with with yells.

During yesterday’s Mass, there was no sense of rushing, regardless of how far behind the schedule was. The Mass was celebrated with energetic participation by everyone and no concern for time. What mattered only was the present and giving of oneself in worship to God. Just the Gloria itself, which was sung, went on for almost ten minutes. As the power grid is problematic here in Kenya, blackouts are common. During the Gloria, the lights and electricity went out in the church. As people here are used to it, no one missed a beat. The Gloria continued uninterrupted, but without the keyboard. Fortunately, the blackout only lasted about thirty seconds. When the electricity came back on, the keyboard just joined back in.

Although sprinkling with holy water and incense are also used in the US, they are used much more during Masses here in Kenya. In the US, you would typically see these used only during “special” Masses, here they are pretty much used in every Mass – at the beginning of Mass to incense the altar, before the reading of the Gospel, and after the bread and chalice are placed on the altar before being consecrated. When the congregation is blessed with holy water, it is no mere sprinkling, but rather a full onslaught of water. The priests here do not use an aspergillum – that silver ball on a stick that is used to sprinkle holy water, the liturgical implement that we have all seen hundreds of times at Mass, but which no one knows what it’s called. Yes, I had to look it up as I forgot its name. It’s not like aspergillum comes up in conversation very often! Blessing with holy water here is done with palm branches.

Skipping ahead to the collection and offertory, I’ll come back to the homily in a minute, the way the collection works at St. Martin’s and in most churches in Kenya is that collection boxes are placed in front of the altar and everyone walks up and drops an offering in the collection boxes. Keep in mind that during Masses here, the church is typically full. We’re talking about hundreds of people walking up to give their offering. There is no passing around of a basket in which to give your offering in anonymity. Sometimes there is more than one collection. If so, you do it all over again, but typically after Communion as these are special collections. After the collection, people also offer other gifts like food and clothing. These are also offered to God and for the usage of the Church. The children line up again and dance their way up the center aisle with people following them carrying these other gifts. The children then dance up to the alter yet another time with the bread and wine following them.

Now back to the homily. There were two themes from Fr. Dan’s homily that stuck with me. I’m sure he said many more great things, but as the Mass and homily were in Kiswahili (with a little, but not much, English mixed in), I’m grateful that I was able to extract even two things for further reflection. The first was speaking in tongues. Although I believe that the gift of speaking in tongues was one of the many gifts given to those gathered when the Holy Spirit descended during Pentecost, I have to admit that the idea of speaking in tongues is unfamiliar and rather uncomfortable territory for me. But I guess I’m in good company. I remember about five years ago after Pope Francis met with Catholic charismatics at a meeting in Rome and let them pray over him by speaking in tongues, Pope Francis admitted he was uncomfortable with the idea, but did go on to say that he realizes the benefits that charismatics have brought to the Church. In any event, I interpreted what Fr. Dan was saying with respect to speaking in tongues in the more general sense of the gifts with which the Holy Spirit blesses us – with speaking in tongues potentially one manifestation of those gifts. As St. Paul tells us, the Holy Spirit produces different kinds of spiritual gifts in each of us, according to God’s plan for us.

There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit; there are different forms of service but the same Lord; there are different workings but the same God who produces all of them in everyone. To each individual the manifestation of the Spirit is given for some benefit. To one is given through the Spirit the expression of wisdom; to another the expression of knowledge according to the same Spirit; to another faith by the same Spirit; to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit; to another mighty deeds; to another prophecy; to another discernment of spirits; to another varieties of tongues; to another interpretation of tongues. But one and the same Spirit produces all of these, distributing them individually to each person as he wishes.

1 Corinthians 12:4-11

The second point from Fr. Dan’s homily was the idea of stewardship. We are given these wonderful gifts from God, but it is up to use to use them generously and responsibly. Jesus himself tells us that we will be held responsible for the gifts with which we have been entrusted.

Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more.

Luke 12:48

I once read read a reflection on this quote by Jesus in Luke 12 that amusingly, at least for me, referred to the often quoted phrase from Spider-Man where Uncle Ben tells Peter Parker “With great power comes great responsibility” as a paraphrase of Jesus’ above quote. So as Uncle Ben tells Peter, we need to use our superpowers wisely! Or, if you prefer a biblical exhortation, St. Peter said the following.

“As each one has received a gift, use it to serve one another as good stewards of God’s varied grace”.

1 Peter 4:10

So what exactly is stewardship. We are all very familiar with the often used phrase of giving our time, talent and treasure. While being a Christian steward certainly means giving generously of our time, talent and treasure, the following, which I first read in a publication from the Archdiocese of Boston many years ago, is what best sums up for me what it means to be a good steward. For me, this beautifully spell out to how we are to responsibly use the gifts, the superpowers, which God has graciously bestowed on us. As Christian stewards, we are to receive God’s gifts gratefully, cultivate them responsibly, share them lovingly in justice with others, and return them with increase to the Lord.

God is good.

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.

As well as being Holy Week, this was a big week for me in several other respects. The beginning of this week saw my last few days at Consolata, the end of my formal language classes, along with saying goodbye to the Fathers, seminarians, my fellow students, my teachers, and the staff at the language center. I am now in Mombasa, joining three other Maryknoll Lay Missioners – Mike, Kathy and Coralis, and am about to start the next phase of my life’s journey here.

The week started with Palm Sunday Mass at Holy Mary Mother of God Church, which is a Consolata parish in the Githurai section of Nairobi. Fr. Jude invited me to join him for Mass at the parish. The parish is a 30 – 40 minute drive from the Consolata seminary. On the way we picked up Fr. Jude’s brother Domenic, who is a software developer and was in Nairobi for work. Domenic and I talked about the projects he is working on and I told him a bit about what I was doing at IBM before I left to come to join Maryknoll. It has been about six and a half months since I left IBM. On the one hand it seems that time has flown by so quickly since then. On the other hand, it seems like such a distant memory at this point. Before the Mass, everyone gathered in a large lot next to the church for the blessing of the palms. This was followed by a procession into the church and then the Mass. The church is very big and it was packed, with people having to stand around the sides of the church as there weren’t enough seats. Fr. Jude had to stick to a pretty tight schedule as there were four Masses scheduled at the church with not a lot of time between Masses.  In fact, our Mass had to start a little late because the prior Mass was still being celebrated when we got there. 

On Monday I had my final exam for my Kiswahili class. My teacher, Jacken, had told me that the test would be easy, but given his past track record with statements like that, I took it with a grain of salt. True to form, the exam was long and I thought pretty challenging. The exam took me about four hours to complete, at which point I called it quits so that Jacken could go home and so that I could make it to lunch before they took the food away. My last class with Jacken was on Tuesday morning. He proceeded to compliment me on how well I did on the exam. He especially called out the essay part of the exam where I had to write about why I wanted to be a missionary – all in Kiswahili, of course. However, he then went on to temper his nice remarks by reminding me that I still need to learn to speak the way I write on exams. Yes, I know, but when I write or take an exam, I have time to think about things and formulate what I’m going to write. However with speech, everything needs to be done in real time. Hopefully with lots of practice …

On Monday after lunch, I met with Brian, who teaches IT classes at the language center. Although I was somewhat familiar with the IT classes there, I was interested in speaking with Brian to learn a little more about what he teaches in the classes. I’m not sure what ministry is in store for me in Mombasa, and I have a little time to figure that out, but helping people learn computer skills would be of interest to me.

On Tuesday morning, Jacken and I went out for burgers, fries and a beer at the mall, which is a short walk from Consolata. It was a little early for burgers and beer, but I’m so glad we went. It gave us a chance to say goodbye and for me to thank him for putting up with me for four and a half months. I probably drove Jacken crazy with all my questions. It is never good enough for someone to tell me how to do something. I always need to know the underlying reason behind how it works. So it is with me and languages.

When Jacken and returned to Consolata from our goodbye meal, we discovered there was an assembly going on in the amphitheater style hall at the school. An assembly is held for all the students at the beginning of a new session of classes which began the day before. My class from the previous session was just concluding as we have a few days to make up from the last session. Fr. Denis, the Director of the Consolata Language Center, was nice enough to interrupt the assembly that was in progress this morning and have everyone go outside to take a group photo with me. I had told him that I had to leave in a few minutes and wanted something to remember my time at the school with my fellow classmates, teachers and school staff. It was a very nice way to say goodbye.

On Tuesday afternoon, a few of the Maryknoll seminarians picked me up at Consolata to take me to the Maryknoll Fathers’ house for dinner and to stay the night. I would then leave for the train station directly from there on Wednesday morning. It felt strange leaving Consolata, my home for the past four and a half months. I can’t thank the Fathers and seminarians enough for making me feel welcome and part of their community while going to school there. I had the opportunity to live, eat, pray, celebrate Mass and do pastoral work together with them. I also learned a lot from them by watching the way they approach being a missionary. The Fathers and seminarians referred to me as Brother, even though they know I’m a lay missioner. The Fathers also jokingly called me “tajiri” which means “rich” in Kiswahili – that is, rich as in wealthy, not short for Richard.

I was so happy that I got to spend some time with the Maryknoll Fathers and seminarians before I left for Mombasa. I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to visit them. We ate dinner together on Tuesday night. Early on Wednesday morning, I joined Fr. Lance and the seminarians for morning prayers and Mass. During Mass they prayed for me and then gave me a final blessing at the end of the Mass. I was a wonderful sendoff.  On Wednesday morning, before I left for the train station, I got an opportunity to talk for a bit with Fr. Joe Healey. As I mentioned in a previous post, I got to meet Fr. Joe when he came to New York to teach a session on small Christian communities during my Maryknoll orientation program. I also referenced some of his research in that previous post. Fr. Joe was kind enough to give me copies of two of his published books on small Christian communities as he knows that I’m an interested in them and had the opportunity to do some work with the small Christian communities in Kibera with the Consolata seminarians. I’m not sure how or if small Christian communities will fit into my ministry in Mombasa, but I pray that the Lord will both guide me along the path he desires me to follow and ensure that I truly listen to what he is telling me.

Steve and Loyce Veryzer, along with their children, Justin, Abigail and Claire, who live and work in Tanzania and were in my Maryknoll orientation class in New York last fall, happened to be staying with Maryknoll Fathers while on break and on their way to the coast of Kenya. Steve is American, but has been working in Tanzania for a number of years with Peace Corp and other NGOs. Loyce is Tanzanian and teaches math in a secondary school. The Veryzers live in Mwanza, Tanzania. By pure confidence, we were all on the same train to Mombasa. So we shared two taxis to the train station and ate lunch together there. It was great to see them again and reconnect. On their way back home from the coast, they are going to stop in Mombasa, so I’ll get to see them again on Monday.

Kathy and Mike were nice enough to meet me at the train station and welcome me to Mombasa – even though my train got in at night and Kathy had to get up early for work the next morning. They spoil me! I went home with Mike and am staying with him in his apartment for a few days. Mike is showing me around the area of Mombasa where he lives. It is all very different for me I’ll reflect on this at a later time as I’m still trying to get my head around things. This is quite a different experience for me.

As I write this, I’m heading into my final few days at Consolata. I will be leaving the school and Consolata community here in Nairobi and beginning the next stage of my journey in Mombasa with my fellow Maryknoll Lay Missioners there. The next few days will be pretty busy as I prepare to make the transition.

Not that there aren’t animal parks in Mombasa, but on Saturday I took the opportunity to visit yet one more animal park here in Nairobi, within walking distance of the school, before I leave Consolata. I asked Dee if she wanted to accompany me and she accepted. We met up on Langata Road where you turn off to go onto the road where the entrance to the animal park is located. This was a little more than a 20 minute walk for me from Consolata, but Dee had to take two matatus (minibuses) to get there from home. As the traffic here in Nairobi is always problematic, even for matatus that often times pass other vehicles by driving on the wrong side of the road and driving in what passes for the breakdown lane, I ended up making it to the meeting point well before Dee. We passed through security at the entrance to the Stedmak Gardens, the complex of facilities where the animal park is located – everyplace here has security checkpoints –  and made our way to the ticket counter to purchase our admission tickets. We both managed to talk our way into getting the Kenya resident admission rate, which as I mentioned previously, is much cheaper than the non-resident/tourist rate, but not quite as cheap as the citizen rate. I manage a few of these small negotiating victories – again, pretty much the price is negotiable for almost everything here, but Dee is much more a master at it. I’m still learning. In any case, as we both now have our work permits approved, we are actually entitled to resident rates. Dee didn’t have her paperwork, but we still successfully made our cases.

The Animal Park at Stedmak is a little different than that other parks I’ve visited. Where I usually prefer seeing mammals, this park was much more geared to birds, snakes, and other reptiles. However, there were a few lions and cheetahs at the park also. I enjoyed our visit a lot and am glad we went. The highlight of the park for me was getting to hold some of the animals – specifically an owl, a few other birds, a few turtles, a chameleon, and a snake! I was surprised to learn afterwards how terrified everyone here is of snakes and how a number of other visitors to the park would not even go near the snakes let alone hold one. I’m not a big fan of snakes, and while seeing a random snake outside (or even worse, in the house) would freak me out, in the controlled environment of the animal park, it didn’t seem like a big deal.

After the park, Dee and I stopped for lunch. She had promised me good choma (BBQ in Kiswahili), but yet again, we were disappointed by the food we were served. We ordered chicken and goat, but both meats we were served were cooked earlier and simply warmed up when we ordered them. Not surprisingly the food was overcooked and dry. I just can’t catch a break here when it comes to food. The few times I do eat out, usually turn out to be a disappointment. To rub salt in the wound, Dee and I visited Rongai yesterday. Rongai is a gritty town on the outskirts of Nairobi that is a short ride from Consolata. Although plagued by traffic jams, poor drainage, garbage and dusty dirt roads, Rongai has numerous roadside shops with decent furniture (built in workshops attached to the shops), clothes, and even electronics at low prices. Rongai also has a number of good places to get choma. The places I saw looked to have delicious choma, but alas being a Friday during Lent, I couldn’t partake. Doubtful I’ll have the opportunity to go back there before I head to Mombasa. I can only hope there are some good places to get choma in Mombasa.

After the choma disaster, I took a matatu with Dee to the coffee shop in Karen that she likes. As we have had coffee there in the past, I knew it was decent, and it gave us an opportunity to salvage part of our dining experience for the day – even if just coffee. Also, as Karen is the halfway point between Consolata and where Dee lives, she only needed to take one matatu home and I only needed to take one to get back to Consolata. After coffee, we parted ways.

On Sunday, I went with Fr. Geoffrey and four seminarians for Mass at a local prison. The Consolata Fathers celebrate Mass there each Sunday morning for the prison staff who either live in housing at the prison or nearby. The chapel is not within the walls of the prison and so Mass there is attended by the staff and their families. The Mass was very well attended and there were also a number of children of the staff at the Mass, which was celebrated in Kiswahili. After Mass, Fr. Geoffrey invited us up to introduce and tell a little bit about ourselves in Kiswahili. I managed to say what I wanted entirely in Kiswahili, but it was actually more difficult for the seminarians, who happen to be from South Sudan, not Kenya. The seminarians from South Sudan don’t speak Kiswahili and are not even studying it at Consolata as all the seminary classes are taught in English. One of the seminarians was able to say a little in Kiswahili before reverting to English, but the others spoke pretty much entirely in English. I felt their pain. I have come to realize that these, I’ll call them “witness talks”, are pretty beneficial. I can see how much the people appreciate the fact that I care enough to be here in Kenya and that I’m making an effort to learn the language.

Yesterday, Friday, after returning to Consolata from Rongai, I attended the Way of the Cross, which started at 5:45 PM local time. During the Way of the Cross, which is celebrated at Consolata every Friday during Lent, all the seminarians, a number of Fathers, Sisters, and a few language school students walk in procession around the Consolata grounds reciting the stations and singing hymns as everyone moves between stations. For the past several years, I’ve attended the Stations in the Street on Good Friday at St. Thomas Moore Church in Narragansett, RI, where I was living, with my sister, Tricia, and sometimes with my sister-in-law Lynn, niece Kaitlyn, and nephew Brandon. While I won’t be able to do the Stations in the Street in Narragansett this year, I was glad to have the opportunity to do the Way of the Cross in a somewhat similar setting here at Consolata.

After the Way of the Cross yesterday, an Italian Consolata Father, who has resided in Kenya for many years and currently lives at the Consolata formation house a short distance away from the seminary, led the entire community in a traditional Passover Seder meal, the Jewish ritual feast, which consists of fifteen ordered procedures and marks the beginning of the Jewish Holiday of Passover. The Seder meal included readings, drinking four cups of wine, eating herbs dipped in saltwater, eating matzah, eating bitter herbs,  and singing. Although there was no Jewish Rabi present, several of the Consolata Fathers are biblical scholars who teach at local Catholic Universities in Hebrew. They have been celebrating the Passover Seder meal at Consolata for the past several years. Although I had wanted to attend a Passover Seder meal for a long time, but never did, I was happy to  have the opportunity to do it at Consolata. I just find it a bit odd that my first Seder meal took place in a Catholic religious community in Africa! Joining us for the Seder meal were a number of secondary school (high school) students who are visiting Consolata for a few days. The students are from a Catholic secondary school in central Kenya and are spending a few days living at the seminary to learn about seminary life and possibly help them to discern a vocation. It was great to see so much interest from high school students.

Something that I have been thinking a bit about this week is what it means to be a missionary. Not that I hadn’t thought about this a lot when discerning to become a Maryknoll Lay Missioner, but two things that came up this week got me thinking about it again. The first was a dinner conversation that several of the Consolata Fathers were having. The second was an article that I read online this week, or to be more exact, the comments about an article that I read. The meaning of missionary is still an evolving concept for me. Obviously, I’ve come to what I believe is some understanding of what it means, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here in Kenya right now. On the other hand, I expect that my ideas will evolve and hopefully deepen as I continue on in this journey. So I presume that what I say here is a snapshot in time of my current understanding of what it means.

The dinner conversation that got me thinking about mission revolved around an Italian Consolata Father (as I hopefully have previously mentioned, the Consolata Missionaries are a congregation founded by an Italian Catholic priest, Blessed Giuseppe Allamano) who didn’t consider Consolata priests who lived and worked in Italy, and possibly those who lived and worked outside of Africa, to be missionaries. I also understand that this priest’s view was that missionary work was strictly pastoral work and that priests, who perhaps taught in seminaries or who worked with seminarians in their formation, were not missionaries.

While I believe that there is some distinction between someone who is a priest or a lay person who does ministry work in a traditional parish setting, in say the US, and someone who is ministering to people in a war-torn area in Africa, I also believe that the Italian Consolata Father’s definition of missionary misses the mark. As the Church teaches, the Church’s mission, given to her by Christ, is the proclamation of the Good News. Pope Saint Paul VI stated that the Church “exists in order to evangelize, that is to say in order to preach and teach, to be the channel of the gift of grace”. The key points that I take away from this statement from Pope Saint Paul are that the Church exists to evangelize and that we are the Church. The Church is not just the pope or the bishops or your parish priests. The Church is the body of Christ, that is, all of us. Pope Saint John Paul II  perhaps more directly puts the responsibility for evangelization squarely on each of our shoulders when he says “No believer in Christ, no institution of the Church can avoid this supreme duty: to proclaim Christ to all peoples.” As I will reflect on more fully in a upcoming post, Jesus compels us to be a light to the world. Every baptized person receives from Christ the missionary mandate to “Go into all the world and preach the Gospel to the whole creation” (Mk 16:15) So, all of us, by virtue of our Baptism, are missionaries. St. Paul says “If I preach the gospel, this is no reason for me to boast, for an obligation has been imposed on me, and woe to me if I do not preach it!” (1 Corinthians 9:16)

You may now be thinking that I’m advocating that every one of us needs to climb the nearest pulpit or stand on the street corner and preach the Gospel with forceful words. In fact, this is exactly what I do not feel my role as a missionary is. Which brings me to the second thing that got me thinking about mission this week. I read an online article by a non Catholic in a secular online publication where he talked about how he tries to live out his Christian faith in today’s culture. I thought the article was good, but what unfortunately struck me more deeply were all the nasty comments that were posted about the article. The comments ranged from being militantly anti-religious to those that quoted bible passages out of context to make Christianity seem absurd to those who attempted to engage in a rational conversation with those who were only interested in putting religion down. Where this ties back to my idea of mission is that I believe we most effectively preach the Gospel and evangelize through the way we live our lives, not by how effectively we can preach or how eloquently we can defend doctrine. I’m not trying to say that preaching or defending doctrine are bad or that they are not needed, but rather that what I believe matters more is how we live out our faith and our witness to our faith lived out in our daily lives. This is summed up in that famous quote, widely accepted to be dubiously attributed to St. Francis, “Preach the Gospel at all times. Use words if necessary.” Our actions do indeed speak louder than our words. I remember a homily on evangelization where the priest conjectured that if Catholics truly lived the Gospel and others were witness to this, our Churches would be overflowing. Speaking for myself, I know that I can’t preach, with words or actions, what I don’t possess.

“God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission. I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next. I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons.”

Blessed John Henry Newman

However, I don’t believe any what I have just said should not be used as an excuse to not talk about our faith. Jesus tells us “Everyone who acknowledges me before others I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father. But whoever denies me before others, I will deny before my heavenly Father.” ( Matthew 10:32-33). In my opinion, the interpretation of the First Amendment to the United States Constitution’s separation of church and state is many time deliberately misinterpreted simply dismiss religion completely from all discourse. However, if we talk the talk, but don’t walk the walk, no one will take us seriously anyways. I view my role as a missionary as one of evangelization and preaching the Gospel, but primarily through my actions, work and how I live my life. But yes, I will use words when necessary.

Pope Francis I believe rightly said, “Solidarity with the poor is at the heart of the Gospel; it has to be seen as an essential element of the Christian life”. There is no question that Jesus not only taught but lived this out. However, as one reflection on this quote which I read commented, “the difference between “the” and “an”, in this case (referring to “an essential element” in Pope Francis’ quote), is the difference between saying, “The purpose of the Church is solidarity with the poor,” and saying, “Solidarity with the poor is an expression and demonstration of the purpose and nature of the Church.” I hold the latter view. The nature of the Church is mission and its core reason to be is evangelization. However, the only way to truly live this out is to live in solidarity with the poor and marginalized. 

My brother Michael often asks why I felt the need to go to Africa to do missionary work. In some sense, I believe that deep down, he really grasps the idea that mission is not simply about serving in some far off place. While what he says is certainly true, that there is plenty of missionary work that I could do in the US, my answer is that I feel that what I am currently doing is the best expression of the witness that I want my life to be with the hope that I evangelize through this witness. I guess we often don’t think about or realize the effect that our simplest words and actions have on others. But since being here in Kenya and doing pastoral work, I’m starting to better see how much just the simple gestures – attending Mass and Small Christian Community prayer meetings, trying to speak Kiswahili and stumbling through my “witness talks” – have an impact on people. Even though I may not be doing much, just my presence, effort, and willingness to stand in solidarity with them makes a huge impact on the people I encounter.

Pope Francis I believe sums up what I’m probably inadequately trying to convey when he said “We know there is but one mission of the Church of God, and that every baptized Christian has a vital part in this mission. Your gifts as lay men and women are manifold and your apostolates varied, yet all that you do is meant to advance the Church’s mission by ensuring that the temporal order is permeated and perfected by Christ’s Spirit and ordered to the coming of his Kingdom.” This is how I view my missionary role – to advance the Church’s mission of evangelization and the coming of His Kingdom. My ministry work and hopefully the way I live my life serves as a witness to my belief in the obligation to build the Kingdom of God here on earth as manifested in my solidarity with the poor and those in need.

God is good.

The Consolata Fathers celebrate Mass at various places during the week and on Sunday, in addition to the daily Masses for the seminarians in the Seminary Chapel, where I often attend Sunday Mass, and the Father’s Chapel, where I attend daily Mass. This includes celebrating Mass at the Flora Hostel Chapel on the grounds of the regional headquarters of the Consolata Sisters, Kenya High School, a local prison, and at the University of Nairobi. The Fathers have a rotating schedule of Mass duties. Wanting to experience something different and seeing that Fr. Samuel was scheduled to celebrate Mass at Kenya high school, I asked him after breakfast on Saturday if I could join him. He said no problem, but told me that he was doing parochial work on Sunday and not celebrating Mass at the high school, but that I was welcome to join him. I now am aware that the Fathers are many times asked to help out in parishes and, if needed, ask another Father to fill in for them for their previously assigned Mass duty. I enthusiastically told Fr. Samuel that I definitely wanted to join him.

Putting this in the category of be careful what you ask for, Fr. Samuel then proceeded to tell me to meet him at 6 AM to leave Consolata and that he was celebrating two Masses that day, not just one. By then there was no turning back, but it was all good. It ended up being a very rewarding day and am so glad that I asked Fr. Samuel to join him.

First stop on Sunday morning was the Kahawa-Soweto settlement, which is a slum in northern Nairobi. Although I have been doing pastoral work with the seminarian in Kibera while at Consolata, I have not had the opportunity to attend Mass at any of the parishes in Kibera. Our pastoral work has revolved around Small Christian Community meetings where we pray, read the Gospel and reflect, but without the Eucharist. The chapel at which Fr. Samuel was celebrating Mass was quite a ways into the Soweto slum, but he drove all the way up to the chapel along the narrow, dirt roads within the settlement and parked the car right outside the chapel. Driving within Kibera is not possible and when we do pastoral work there, we have to walk quite a ways within Kibera to meet with the Small Christian Communities.

The chapel, like the other structures in Soweto, as well as in Kibera, is in reality a tin shack with a dirt floor. The chapel contains unattached wooden benches – enough to seat I’m guessing about 2oo people. To my surprise, the chapel not only has lights, but also microphones, which the priest and lectors use, as well as two decent size flat screen monitors where the words to songs, readings and prayer responses are displayed during the Mass! The chapel was packed for the 7 AM Mass and people were dressed nicely.

Fr. Samuel did a great job with the Mass. He had the congregation very involved, especially during his homily. As Fr. Samuel usually speaks at a fast pace in English, in Kiswahili he seemed, at least to me, to speak at a blistering pace. It was nearly impossible for me to keep up. However, it appears that the congregation kept up fine. At the end of Mass, Fr. Samuel called me up so that I could say a few words about myself and what I’m doing in Kenya. I talked a little in Kiswahili and some in English – the way most Kenyans speak anyway.

Unfortunately, besides the one photo above, which I found on the web, I’m not sharing any other pictures from Soweto with this post. On the one hand, I wish that I were including more photos so that you can get a better sense of what the places and things I talk about, like the chapel, actually look like. On the other hand, I’m hesitant to take or post pictures of the pastoral work in which I’m involved. I certainly don’t want exploit the situation for a photo opportunity. As it just does not feel right to me at this point in time to include photos, I hope my descriptions suffice. This may change as I feel more at home in some of the places I visit.

The experience of visiting and helping with pastoral work in the slums is stlll hard for me to process, let alone describe. The living conditions are horrid with residents lacking the most basic necessities, but the people, especially in their faith life, appear genuinely happy. There are about 2.5 million people living in approximately 200 informal settlements in Nairobi. This represents  60% of the population of Nairobi, but the residents living in these slums occupy only 6% of the land area that makes up Nairobi.  I understand that there have been many ideas floating around as to how to address this issue, but so far nothing has seemed to have been done.

As hopefully comes through in my blog posts, Kenya appears, at least to me, to be a land filled with contradictions – honesty and hard work juxtaposed with corruption, wealth with poverty, natural beauty with filthy conditions. There are affluent neighborhoods bordering slums and large houses in fairly close proximity to tin shacks. In some areas, the affluent and impoverished seem to work together – with the less fortunate providing cheap labor, as an example. In other areas, the relationship is very confrontational. I don’t know they dynamics of the slum and faith community in Soweto where I attended Mass, but there appears to be some support for them from wealthier parishes at least in the form of equipment like microphones and monitors for the chapel.

After Mass, Fr. Samuel and I headed to St. Joseph Mukasa Catholic Parish, Kahawa West, a local parish staffed by Consolata Fathers, for some breakfast. My understanding is that the St. Francis of Assisi Sowetto chapel, where we just attended Mass, is an outstation of St. Joseph Mukasa Catholic Parish. The parish has a beautiful Church and parish center, which I am told was the original Church before the current church structure was constructed.

The second Mass that Fr. Samuel celebrated and I attended was in a parish in a new development under construction. There are no paved roads once you turn off the main road into the area under development. However, once you are on the dirt road, you see massive homes under construction. Again, the contrast. Not that this sort of disparity doesn’t exist in the US, it just appears to me to be in higher relief here in Kenya. The parish does not have a church building yet. It is still in the planning stages. While there is house for the Fathers on the property, the Mass is currently celebrated in a huge tent structure with an altar at the far end and filled with hundreds of plastic chairs. There had to be at least 500 chairs set up for Mass and they were pretty much all full for the Mass. After the Mass, there were at least 20 minutes of announcements, with different leaders or groups going up to talk about the latest news regarding their ministries. This included three young catechists who talked about youth religious education with a lot of energy and passion, which was great to see. This seemed to be a very vibrant parish, although still under development, with lots of involvement from the parishioners. After the announcements, as I now knew he would, Fr. Samuel introduced me and called me up to say a few words. Gratefully, as things were running late, he told me to just speak in English (as most of the ministry leaders did anyway, although the Mass itself was in Kiswahili). I just gave them a little personal background, told them why I was in Kenya, and what I hoped for in my ministry in Mombasa.

After Mass, we headed back to the Fathers’ house at St. Joseph Mukasa for lunch. Before we ate lunch, I had an opportunity to walk around and see the church grounds. A Mass had just finished. I waited for people to stream out of the church and then took a few pictures of the church, which as I mentioned, was very beautiful.

As Fr. Samuel was going to stay at St. Joseph Mukasa for a while longer, I caught a ride back to the Consolata Seminary with another Consolata Father and three seminarians who were heading back that way. I arrived back at Consolata around 3:30 PM. It was a great day.

The thing that stuck most with me during this past week was a Lenten reflection I read on Wednesday.

‘It’s so hard to be good!’ And so we have to practice. It is hard to become a concert pianist. It is hard to become an expert surgeon. It is hard to become an outstanding ballerina. We have to practice and practice and practice. If this is true of the worldly arts, it is more true of the art of spiritual fidelity.

Mother Mary Francis P.C.C. from A Time of Renewal: Daily Reflections for the Lenten Season

This made me immediately think of St. Paul’s words in his Letter to the Romans, which speaking for only myself, seems to aptly describe many of the things I seem to do.

What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate.

Romans 7:15

So, I keep telling myself, as with all things at which I want to be good – practice, practice, practice.

When Justice Antonin Scalia died in February of 2016, his son, Fr. Paul Scalia, a priest in the Diocese of Arlington, Virginia gave the homily at the Funeral Mass celebrated in the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C. In his homily, Fr. Scalia said the following about his father.

He tried to love God and neighbor but, like the rest of us, did so imperfectly. He was a practicing Catholic—practicing in the sense that he hadn’t perfected it yet. Or, rather, that Christ was not yet perfected in him. And only those in whom Christ is brought to perfection can enter Heaven. We are here then, to lend our prayers to that perfecting, to that final work of God’s grace, in freeing Dad from every encumbrance of sin.

Fr. Paul Scalia, from the funeral homily for his father, Justice Antonin Scalia

How much I can relate to what Fr. Paul said about practicing in that sense that I haven’t perfected it yet. All of this can seem rather daunting, but I trust that the final work of God’s grace that Fr. Paul talks about will be accomplished in me through the grace of God. God made us for eternal happiness with Him. We just need to allow Him to work through us to accomplish this. Let us pray that we all obtain the perfection that God desires for each and every one of us.

This past Wednesday’s Mass reading has, what is for me, one of the most comforting verses in all of Scripture. I know that God is always there for me waiting to bestow His gifts upon me, even though a lot of times I don’t deserve them. But fortunately, God gives out of love, not according to what we deserve. In fact, He gives even more to those who are in the most need. I am confident in the fact that God never forgets me and is there for me at all time.

Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you.

Is 49:15

God is good.

On Saturday, I met up with Dee, my fellow Maryknoll Lay Missioner here in Nairobi. Dee lived and took Kiswahili classes at Consolata at the end of last year and continued to live in the Consolata women’s hostel, but take private Kiswahili classes, at the beginning of this year. Dee was a Maryknoll Lay Missioner in Cambodia for eight years prior to arriving in Kenya. She has now completed her Kiswahili studies, moved out of the Consolata hostel and into her own apartment, and has started her ministry work. Dee will live and work in Nairobi, while I am destined for Mombasa. I already have my “one way” train ticket for Mombasa leaving on April 17. I will miss being in Nairobi with Dee, but new adventures and my other fellow Maryknoll Lay Missioners await me in Mombasa. I’m sure I will get to visit Dee periodically as well as see her when she visits Mombasa and at regional retreats that we have during the year in which we all get together for spiritual reflection and relaxation.

Dee’s ministry work is at Jesuit Refugee Services (JRS). JRS advocates on behalf of refugees and other displaced people – many of whom are living in camps, but also in cities – in the areas of emergency assistance, education and social work. The JRS East Africa branch, where Dee is working, serves not only Kenya, but also Ethiopia, Uganda, Sudan and South Sudan. There are over five million refugees and other displaced people in just these five countries. Although the JRS regional office is in Nairobi, within walking distance of Dee’s new apartment, she will be traveling to camps and cities in these other countries as part of her ministry job.

On Saturday, I took a matatu (minibus) to meet Dee at the Crossroads Mall in Karen, which is about half way in between Consolata and Dee’s apartment. Not only were there things within walking distance of our meeting point that we wanted to visit, but meeting at Crossroads Mall also eliminated the need for me to take multiple matatus required to get all they way to Dee’s place. I’m still challenged when it comes to matatus, but I’m learning “pole pole” (slowly). Dee and I had visited the Crossroads Mall together before, so I knew approximately where it was. All I had to do was walk from Consolata to the Galleria Mall, which is up the street, and get on a matatu outside the mall to take me to Karen. The trip by matatu took about 20 minutes and Dee was at Crossroads waiting for me when I arrived.

The first thing we did was stop and get coffee. Both Dee and I love coffee, but my coffee consumption has been reduced to almost zero since I’ve arrived in Kenya. The reason being is that unless you go to a “western” style coffee shop, in say a mall or shopping center, pretty much all the coffee served here is made from instant coffee – just add hot water and stir. This is what is available for breakfast at Consolata as well as during break at the school. I tried to adjust to instant coffee when I first got here, but soon decided that, for me, no coffee was better than instant coffee, and have switched over to tea. Kenyan tea is made with milk rather than water, but as I usually put milk in tea anyway (the little tea that I did drink prior to Kenya), I’m fine with it. There is usually also hot water and tea bags available to make just tea with water. However, in fact, except for breakfast, I don’t drink much tea either and mostly just drink water during the day. Given that fact that I have not been sleeping very well since coming to Kenya, I’m surprised that I manage to get through the day without coffee. Dee has her own place now, so she can have real coffee all the time! I will mostly like go back to drinking coffee regularly again once I have my own place in Mombasa.

In addition to Crossroads, there are several other new malls in Karen, such as The Hub andThe Waterfront. The Waterfront is to me a misnomer as the only body of water in sight is a man-made lake that is part of a small water park within the mall complex. I had visited The Hub previously with Kathy, Mike and Dee when I first arrived in Nairobi, but had not been there since. The malls in Nairobi are small by US standards, but include some version of a food court (more like a group of restaurants) – many times containing American fast food like Burger King, Pizza Hut, and KFC. Some malls here even have arcades. However, with so many new shopping centers and more being built or planned to be built, there appears to be an oversupply. I do not find the malls to be very crowded and they seem to cater, in any case, more to foreigners than to average Kenyans. Excluding this trip with Dee, in which we managed to visit all these malls in one day, and my occasional trips to the Galleria, which is the easiest shopping in walking distance from Consolata, I don’t frequent the malls in Nairobi very much. Not only are the pretty expensive when compared against what I’m used to paying for things in the US, but also more prone to terrorist attacks.

After walking around Karen, Dee and I took a matatu to her apartment. Before we actually went to her apartment, we visited and bought food at yet another shopping mall called The Junction, which has a market and is in convenient walking distance from Dee’s apartment. Dee’s apartment building is about ten floors and her apartment is said to be on the sixth floor, but is in actuality on the eighth floor (as the first two floors are not residences and are not included in the floor designations). I mention this because, these apartment buildings, which are dotted in and around this area of Nairobi in proximity to The Junction, have no elevators! 

While walking around on Saturday, we both had a craving for American fast food, of which I’ve eaten none since arriving in Kenya, even though it is available at most shopping malls. While at the Hub, we decided to eat at Burger King. OK, not the healthiest meal choice, but we were looking for something familiar and comforting. While the menu, with some modifications, particularly in the beverage department, looked ostensibly like the standard Burger King menu you find in the US, the food and drinks themselves were not the same. They did not live up to what our taste buds were expecting. The food didn’t have a lot of flavor.  We were expecting that Burger King taste that we all know and love (or at least love when we have a craving for it), but were unfortunately severely disappointed. 🙁 Maybe I’ll try some of the other fast food options in the future.

Other than the fast food experience, I had a great time with Dee. I stayed over at Dee’s on Saturday night and we took matatus together back to Consolata early on Sunday morning. Dee came back with me to Consolata to go to Mass as that weekend’s Mass for the Consolata seminarians was being held at the Brookhouse School. Usually, a few students from Brookhouse come to the Consolata Seminary Chapel, where I usually attend Mass, for Sunday morning Mass. This was the first time Consolata has said Mass at Brookhouse and it sounded like this is something that they hope to now do a few times a year. The Mass was held in an auditorium at the school.

The Brookhouse School is a private, co-ed boarding school,  consisting of about 800 primary and secondary school students, that is adjacent to Consolata. Classes at Brookhouse are taught in English. Brookhouse is one of the schools in Kenya where the elite, rich, and powerful in Kenya send their children. The school also hosts a number of international students. Although the fee structure varies by grade level, the fee per term for boarding and tuition maxes out at about the equivalent of $7000 (USD) per term. There are three terms in an academic year, so you can do the math. Needless to say that this is well out of the reach of almost all but a very few Kenyans.

Fr. Deo, one of the Fathers with whom I live and eat while at Consolata, celebrated the Mass. All the Consolata seminarians where there and they led the singing as well as served at the Mass, while Brookhouse students did the readings, the Psalm, and the Prayers of the Faithful. During his homily, Fr. Deo stressed, in what I thought was a very non-judgmental way, how privileged the students were to have the opportunity to attend a school like Brookhouse and that with that privilege came a responsibility to give back to others. He exhorted them, as they go forward in life, not to forget their love of God and to express that love in works of mercy to those in need. He told them that they need to work to improve the quality of life for all Africans. Most of the students at the Mass were from Kenya with a few from neighboring countries. After Mass, Fr. Deo gave a blessing to those students who were in their final year at Brookhouse and asked them where they would be going to university after leaving Brookhouse. Everyone of them answered that they wanted to go to college in either the UK or the US. The unfortunate thing is that most of them will probably never return to Africa to live, work and help make a better life for the people here. If they do return, I pray that they become part of the solution and not part of the problem. Here’s what I mean.

Fr. Deo’s homily along with a few other conversations that I heard in the past week, got me thinking about life here in Kenya. Of course I’m an expert (or not) on the subject now having lived here a whopping total of three months.  Kenya has a wealth of natural resources and its people are, in general, well-educated and hard-working, but the country is not anywhere close to reaching its potential. One of the primary reasons is corruption. Corruption is so rampant in Kenya that the Kenya Conference of Catholic Bishops (KCCB) names it as one of the four problems addressed in its Kenya Lenten Campaign – along with Environmental Conservation and Protection, Family Values, Socio-Political Inclusion, and Respect for the Rule of Law.

The Kenya Lenten Campaign was put together by the KCCB to increase awareness and inform the public of problems affecting society. Through the Lenten Campaign, the Kenyan bishops ask people to join them in addressing these problems and advocate for change. During Lent, we are all called to examine our own lives and transform ourselves. If each person does their part, through prayer, we are confident that God will do the rest. 

For the Lenten Campaign, the KCCB put together a very nice booklet that tackles each of the five issues addressed in the campaign. Each week, one of the issues is supposed to be examined and reflected on. The campaign booklet gives a story of a concrete example where each issue has occurred in Kenya, analyzes the situation in light of the Church’s social teachings, and gives readings, a spiritual reflection, reflective questions and questions for examination of conscience. For example, with respect to corruption, the bishops ask each individual to truly examine the ways we often overlook the role we play in sustaining systems that reward dishonesty and scheming. The campaign is intended to be used by parishes, families, Small Christian Communities and individuals, so that each person can do their part in helping to address these important issues in their individual lives and in the lives of the communities in which they live. Several of the Small Christian Communities in Kibera, with which I have been blessed to worship, are using the campaign material as the basis for part of their weekly gatherings during Lent.

The Kenyan bishops state that corruption is a disease, eating away not just at Kenyan politics but at the economy and society in general. They say that the theft of public resources keeps food away from the needy, medicines from dispensaries and siphons off funding needed for public services. The bishops go on to state that corruption in Kenya is growing at unimaginable levels, with the situation getting worse by the day through shameless thefts of public and private resources by those charged with safeguarding them. Many people have been disenfranchised  and the economy and social life of Kenya has been compromised. The bishops see the root-cause of corruption as impunity, which has led to a select few highly connected individuals who believe that they are untouchable. Stated pretty directly, wouldn’t you say? But what disturbed me even more was the fact that the bishops concluded by stating that Kenyans seem to have now accepted corruption as a way of life. In other words, that the Kenyan people have lost all hope.

I ask that each of you please keep the Kenyan people in your prayers, especially during this Lenten season as we prepare ourselves to commemorate the passion and death of our Lord and the good news of His resurrection. Pray especially that the people of Kenya will have hope in a better future. As echoed in these words of the prophet Jeremiah, God will bless those who trust in Him.

Blessed are those who trust in the Lord; the Lord will be their trust. They are like a tree planted beside the waters that stretches out its roots to the stream: It does not fear heat when it comes, its leaves stay green; In the year of drought it shows no distress, but still produces fruit. (Jeremiah 17:7-8)

God is good.

This week I had the opportunity to visit yet another wildlife attraction in Nairobi. Kenya is full of them.  I love visiting the parks to see, and in a some cases, touch the animals. This week I went to the Giraffe Center, a park that was created to protect the endangered Rothschild Giraffe, a subspecies of giraffe that is found only in the grasslands of East Africa. The center is within walking distance, albeit a fairly long walk, from the Consolata Language Center where I’m currently studying. As I mentioned previously, I’m trying to see as many things as possible in and around Consolata while I’m here at the school. It’s not that I could never come back to this part of Nairobi once I leave the school, but it’s much easier for me to visit attractions that are in proximity of the school while I’m boarding here. There is no easy way to get to the Giraffe Center from Consolata using any form of public transportation as the center is a little off the beaten trail. It took me about 1 1/4 hours for me to walk to Giraffe Center (and as what goes up, must come down, it took me about 1 1/4 hours to walk back home later). However, it was well worth it. The only real transportation option is a pikipiki, which means motorcycle, that you ride on the back of. Pikipiki abound all over Naorobi. You can find them on many major roadways at intersections. At the Galleria mall, which is right down the street from the school, there are always at least 3 -4 pikipiki there waiting for passengers at any time. Although I have been daring enough to touch a lion and a crocodile here in Kenya, I have not yet had the courage to ride on the back of a pikipiki. I’m not sure if I ever will, especially given the fact that many passengers don’t even wear a helmet as not all drivers provide one. Add to that the condition of some of the roads and the way the pikipiki weave around cars, I’m not sure I’m that brave (or more likely careless). In any case, I really needed the exercise anyway as walking is really the only exercise I get here and I don’t do enough of it. It was not only a beautiful day to walk, as most days are in Nairobi, but I got to explore different places on my way to the center, which is I mentioned is off the main road and so I have not walked that way before.

At the Giraffe center, you get to hand feed the giraffes. When you enter the center, you are given a bag of “giraffe food”, consisting of dried pellets made from leaves, which I learned are from the branches of acacia trees, that the giraffes really like.  The giraffes are fed most of the day by tourists and also free to roam around their large enclosed area to find and eat other food. You feed the giraffes by holding the pellet between your index finger and thumb and let the giraffe use their long tongues to take the food from between your fingers. Although, there are signs that say to only use your hands to feed the giraffes, a number of people put the food between their lips and have the giraffes take the food that way. That wasn’t something I felt compelled to do.

At the Giraffe Center, you can get right up close to the giraffes. There is an elevated viewing area where you can feed the giraffes “face to face” and even touch them. However, you need to be careful. While the giraffes don’t bite (unless possibly if really threatened), they do head butt. One guy barely escaped being clobbered. The giraffes have pretty big heads and I’m sure it would hurt. I also learned not to get to close to the giraffes when they are drinking. After drinking from the water container, one giraffe proceeded to splash water on everyone who was close by. Some people got soaked! Fortunately, I was up on the elevated platform when this happened and so out of range of the water. I nearly captured the event on video, but had just stopped recording when this happened.

At the center there is a lot of information posted about giraffes and the guides at the center periodically give about a ten minute talk and answer questions. One new fact that I learned is that giraffes can kick with enough force to take out a lion, that is seriously wound or even kill. That was another reason why I’m happy that most of the viewing at the center is from the elevated platform.

It’s interesting how the giraffes all have different personalities that you can actually discern in your encounters with them. I guess it shouldn’t come as a big surprise as most of us are aware in difference in personalities of our pets at home. However, in my mind, I mistakenly lumped all species of wildlife together into a single entity, like giraffes, when in fact each animal is unique and different. As I discussed in my last post, every creature has its own value and significance. I needed to be reminded of that fact.

I didn’t necessarily mean for these blog posts to be so serious and filled with theological reflections (and I’m certainly not claiming to be a theologian), but when I sit down to write my posts this is what comes out. So, I sit back and let our Lord take the lead, praying that I’m doing what he wants me to do. If I’m not accomplishing exactly what He wants, then I’m at least trying my best.

I have been watching a set of bible study videos online. The very first video sets the table to the series with the statement “we’re standing in the stream of salvation history.” Well, that got me thinking about salvation history and using the analogy of a stream or river to describe it. So here goes yet another reflection. This is what I came up with.

Think of creation, which is ‘in a state of journeying’ (as it did not spring forth complete from the hands of God as described in the Catechism), as a river flowing towards its mouth, where it meets its final destiny, which for creation is God, the source and final destiny of all things. However, with creation, the journeying toward the mouth of the river is still a work in progress. The ultimate perfection, to which God has destined it, is yet to be attained. 

God willed that we be active and willing participants in the stream of salvation history. Each of us, in some way guides the river, with our thoughts and actions, what we do and what we have fail to do, in other words, we guide salvation history by the way we love God and each other.

For we who exist in a particular time and place in this stream, it is very difficult, if not impossible to see the effects that our actions (or inactions) have on the course of the river (stream of salvation history). Most of the time it feels like we have no effect at all. However, we know that in God’s plan, everything matters and everything has meaning. Being inside the stream, we don’t have the perspective to see the path that is being tread – like standing in the middle of a river and not being able to see where it is headed. But if you stand on a mountain overlooking the river, the direction of the river is clear. As God stands outside time and space, he sees the big picture. He gently guides the course of the stream by nudging each one of us to follow Him, but always respecting our freedom to make our own choices. Remember that everything is grace.

God knew us and had a plan for each and every one of us from all eternity. As the prophet Jeremiah tells us “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you.” God placed each and every one of us into this steam of salvation history at a unique time and place for a particular purpose. A time and place where He willed that we make our contribution to the direction of the flow of the river. When you think of things this way, you can see how special and unique each of us is.

As rivers don’t flow in a straight line, so it is with the stream of salvation. As the saying goes, “God writes straight with crooked lines.”

As I thought through my river analogy a little more, I realized that rivers flow in a path of least resistance. At first I thought that this is where the river analogy breaks down. Given the state of our world, and the suffering and evil that exists in it, it seems hard to fathom that this is the path of least resistance – at least the path that leads to its ultimate perfection, which is its final destiny. However, I then thought of the problem of perspective again and the fact that we see things only from within the stream. However, if we look at things through the eyes of faith, truly believe what Jesus said “For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”, and the fact that doing the will of God is what leads to true happiness, we can perhaps see things differently and the river analogy may in fact still work!

God’s plans are always accomplished. The prophet Isaiah tells us “So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me empty, but shall do what pleases me, achieving the end for which I sent it.” As the quote by Eldridge Cleaver goes ‘You either have to be part of the solution, or you’re going to be part of the problem.’ I think we are basically being told that we can do this hard way or the easy way, you decide.

Trust and let God be in charge of our lives. Be joyful knowing that His plans for us are always perfect, even though this may be challenging for us to see given that we are seeing things from perspective of standing in the stream, that is, in the moment of today’s trials and suffering.

God is good.