Nancy and Shelvis

I am not sure which was worse, the hair cut my sister Kristen gave me in High School, or the one I just received in Nairobi. 

When Kristen cut my hair, I knew I was in trouble when she started repeating, “I am so sorry.  I am so sorry,” as she unintentionally cut the back of my hair in a diagonal. 

When John in Nairobi cut my hair, I knew I was in trouble as soon as I walked into the salon.  My entrance brought a confused look to John’s face which I assume was a combination of wondering “how do you cut mzungu hair?” and “how much can I charge her?”  In Kenya, there are few set prices and few mzungus (white people). 

When I sat in the salon chair, John, perplexed, stared at my hair and asked “Do you want the whole thing cut?” 

“Yes, just cut it straight across,” I said, amused at the uncertainty of the outcome of this adventure.

A co-worker came to John’s aid, eager to join the spectacle.  The two of them, taking turns advising each other, proceeded to cut my hair “straight across” (but straight across when all the hair is pulled to the back makes the front pieces significantly longer than the ones in the back, which was not what I or the barbers intended). 

The plastic-handled scissors did not look like hair-cutting scissors to me, and without wetting my hair first, the “straight” cut was doomed from the outset.  But the experience was priceless. 

The largest difference in my two haircut fiascos was the reaction of the barbers.  While my sister was keenly aware of the damage she did to my hair and the fact that I would go immediately to a salon to get it evened out, John looked at his finished masterpiece with great pride.  “Now you will not have to worry about it anymore,” he said smiling, glad to be of help.  I thanked him. 

As I put the hair that was left in a short ponytail, John noticed a group of hairs sticking out farther than the others.  “Can I cut this one?” he asked. 

“Sure,” I responded, assuming he would cut the longer strands to match the length of the others.  I was wrong.  He just cut the longer group from its root at my scalp. Wow, I can’t believe he did that, I thought to myself, wondering how many months it would take for that part to catch back up with the others. 

John was still beaming with pride.  He then took the rubberband out of my hair and tried to create a ponytail by himself (at which point I think he was just enjoying trying something new).  He struggled to figure out how to wrap the rubberband around the hair, “I have no idea how to do this” he said light heartedly.

I have been cutting Shelvis’ hair for a year now, and that day he had his first chance to return the favor.  “Just cut it straight” I told him when I returned to our apartment. 

The experience was comic, but a good reminder of the things I take for granted being in the majority ethnic group in my home country.  I do not have to look as hard as Shelvis to find someone who knows how to cut my hair in the US. 

In the US, I do not have to wonder if “flesh” colored band-aids will match my skin.  Also, in the US, I am not given the daunting assignment of speaking on behalf of my people, which is a regular task of mine here in East Africa (sometimes I am asked to speak for all “Americans” and sometimes for all “white people”, both are impossible for me to do accurately). 

It is good to be reminded of the things I take for granted, as it makes me aware that my experiences in the US are not the same as someone from a minority ethnic group.  So, for that reason, I am grateful to John for the unforgettable haircut.  (And Kristen, I forgave you years ago)

Posted on April 1st, 2010 by Nancy
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I looked out the window just in time to see the yellow-vested man give two thumbs up to the pilot, the plane’s rubber stops at his feet.  “I am really going to Sudan,” I thought to myself. 

We soared past small collections of round and rectangular rooves.  Green trees dotted fields of long tan grass.  Shortly after flying over the Nile River, we landed.  Our faces were greeted by hot, thick air as we walked down the aircraft’s metal stairs.  Planes marked with the bold, capital letters “WFP” and “UN,” and helicopters were the only other carriers on the steaming tarmac slab.   We entered a small building labeled “Juba International Airport” in both English and Arabic script. 

Before leaving Kenya, I was told that every 3^rd man in Sudan carries a gun, so I was not surprised that a wooden table covered with guns and ammunition stood next to me as I waited in the immigration line.  (I have not found the 3^rd person rule to hold true).  The airport was buzzing with tall, thin soldiers in tan, green and blue camou uniforms. I took my luggage to one such man to be searched.  He moved a few items around and then pointed to a zip-lock bag of tampax tampons, and asked in a low, serious voice, “what is this?”  My mind raced, searching for an appropriate explanation, holding back a smile and trying to sound serious, “They are for women,” I said.  Without another response, he marked my bag in chalk with an unfamiliar sign, which denoted clearance. 

Outside the airport, we found the sun again waiting to meet us.  I put on my sunglasses and started sweating.  Every second car in the parking lot was a large SUV with a metal cargo rack on top.  We hoisted our luggage and ourselves into the Land Cruiser marked “ACROSS and UNHCR,” and headed for YEI. 

The 100 mile journey would take 5 hours.  From a large radio antenna on the front of the car flew a white ACROSS flag with the printed words: “Transforming Lives and Communities.”  The flag flapped in the wind, leading the car like a ship as we sailed on the rocky red roads.  In Sudan, unlike in Kenya and Uganda, cars should remain on the right side of the road.  In reality, however, drivers crisscross from left to right aiming for the smoothest ride possible, trying to avoid holes.  Of the people with bundles on their bicycles or on their heads, some wore traditional East African patterned materials, others more “western” looking attire.  All the women wore skirts. 

Every few kilometers we passed collections of traditional homes called tukuls. These mud-walled houses displayed beautiful straw rooves, which glistened like gold in the strong sun’s glare.  Between the bunches of tukuls stretched fields often charred from an agricultural method of burning the reeds and grass. 

After two hours we stopped to buy sodas and water in a small town called Lanya.  I noticed a blue kiosk with the phrase “Poverty is not a sin” painted in white letters above the window.  I wondered why the owner made the statement.  The painted words countered the message that poverty is simply an outcome of a person’s sin.  Although newly in the country, I knew enough to know that many complex factors are at play in the economic situation in war-torn Southern Sudan. 

Because our car is labeled as an NGO, we passed through the police stops freely.  If not associated with an NGO, a fine must be paid to cross.  About half way through our trip, however, we encountered a road block that we were not allowed to pass.  The hanging rope displayed a sign announcing “de-mining” was in process; no one could travel for 45 minutes.  A crowd was gathered under the nearest tree: sitting, standing, waiting.  

The unfortunate reality is that mines still lay sleeping in the fields, waiting to be awakened by an unsuspecting person or child.  My Sudanese co-passengers mentioned that hospitals continue to treat people who have lost limbs to these hidden explosives.  During the Civil War, “both the Northern government and the SPLA (Sudanese People’s Liberation Army) placed mines around the areas they controlled,” a colleague explained. 

A few miles further we found Yei town bustling with people.  Stores, kiosks, motorbikes, people walking, people sitting, people running on a large, dirt soccer field.  We pulled into the office compound, and Mary, a Kenyan colleague who also made the trip from Nairobi, introduced me to those remaining in the office after hours.  “James, Agnes, Boniface, Suzan, ….” many names and smiling faces; I longed for the day when I would truly known them.  “This is the office where our program works,” she said, opening the door to a room 3 x 3.5 meters; with my arrival, five of us would share the space.  Thomas and Ben greeted me in the small PAP office and then joined us for the rest of the tour.  

Thomas, Ben, Me, Mary and Nelson in Yei office

The compound is filled with small homes with tin roofs.  “That is where devotions are held, over there the lunch meals are cooked, next to it meals are eaten, and this is where you will stay…..” 

As I crossed the threshold of my new residence, a feeling of being overwhelmed rose inside of me.  The four of us stood together in the entrance of the cement house for a moment.  Then Ben and Thomas, who live in the surrounding community, asked if they could offer a prayer.  They seemed happy I was there to work alongside them.  The two remained late in the office to greet me, and now they prayed that amidst all of the differences in a new environment, I would remain healthy.  The feeling of overwhelmedness resided, pushed out by a sense of peace.  I appreciated the reminder that no matter where I am, God is always present and God’s Spirit moving.  It is only for me to join in.

Posted on March 2nd, 2010 by Nancy
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Reunited and it feels so good….How great to reconnect with friends and family!  When we first arrived home this summer, every conversation involved catching up on an entire  year of activities.  We were grateful for each opportunity to learn of mountain tops and valleys, of new births and burials, of jobs lost and graduations celebrated…of life’s circumstances molding and shaping the people we love.  We listened and we shared, and it was life-giving.  We are constantly amazed by the incredible people we are privileged to walk with through each new season and situation.  “Thank you” to our friends and family for continually making us feel supported, cared for and loved.

While home, Nancy was ordained as a Minister in the PC(USA). The outpouring of support surrounding this event encouraged our hearts. A BIG “thank you” to New Life Presbyterian Church and all the people who contributed to making the moment unforgettable.

To Everything There is a Season, Turn, Turn, Turn… Kenya is a BEAUTIFUL country.  While living there, we soaked in our surroundings with awe and wonder(the great Rift Valley, the beautiful skies, the Indian Ocean).  America is also a BEAUTIFUL country, yet the two are quite different.  Unlike the seasons in Georgia (fall, winter, spring, summer), the seasons in Kenya include: the short rains, the long rains, and the dry time in between.  Until I moved to East Africa, I did not think about the fact that some people have never seen leaves change colors.  Since we were home this fall, we realized that absence does make the heart grow fonder.  Our appreciation for the brilliant colors of autumn was heightened this year. 

It’s a Small World After All, A Small Beautiful World…While living in Atlanta, we have been presenting to groups and congregations about our work in East Africa.  We spoke on over 30 occasions and were humbled by the opportunity for Shelvis to share through an interview on CNN (click here to view).  With each opportunity, we told the stories of the people who inspired us in Africa.  We felt as if we were introducing new friends to old friends.  We delighted in the opportunity to remind fellow Americans of our connections in mind, body, and spirit with our neighbors living across the ocean.  Across the ocean, we can learn from one another.  We can be enriched, challenged, convicted, and united by our similarities and our differences.

We spoke with a College Presbyterian Campus Ministry in Spartanburg, SC

Our connectedness with global neighbors overwhelmed me this Christmas season, when I met a man named Benjamin.  I was at a “Multicultural Christmas Celebration” organized by the Presbytery of Greater Atlanta, when an older man approached me and introduced himself.  He told me that he reads Shelvis and my website updates regularly.  Benjamin worships with a church in Conyers, Georgia but is connected with several churches in Mexico. He translates our updates into a specific dialect spoken in Mexico and sends the translated updates to the churches in Mexico.  “They are praying for you,” he said.

High School Classmate and CNN correspondent Brooke Baldwin interviewed Shelvis on CNN’s Faces of Faith

How is it possible, I thought to myself, that churches in Mexico, filled with people I have never met, are praying for me?  My understanding of our connection to all whom God creates was deepened in that moment, strengthened by Benjamin’s willingness to reach out to me, sweetened by the faith and love of people in Mexico willing to pray for a unknown young couple, European-American and African-American, who are serving alongside Kenyans in ministry several time zones away.  God is indeed great and this small world quite beautiful.

The Atlanta Globetrotters…We are hitting the air again, returning to East Africa.  I (Nancy) will leave Dec 29^th for Nairobi, Kenya where I will go through training before heading to Southern Sudan.  We are continuing the Presbyterian Church’s Young Adult Volunteer program, yet this term I will be working with an organization called “Across.”  Across has been engaged in community development in Southern Sudan for over 20 years and focuses on holistic transformation, in the areas of education, health, economics and spiritual formation (www.across-sudan.org).  I will cycle between program implementation in Southern Sudan (4-5 week stays) and work in their Nairobi office (2 week stays).  In Sudan I will be living and working in a rural area and may not have regular access to internet, so please accept my apology in advance for slow responses to much appreciated correspondence. 

Shelvis plans to return to Nairobi, Kenya in January.  He is excited to continue working with the Fellowship of Christian Councils and Churches in the Great Lakes and Horn of Africa (FECCLAHA) and serving on staff at Loresho Presbyterian Church.

Please know that we will miss you when we are away, but that you will remain in our thoughts and prayers.

Posted on December 23rd, 2009 by Nancy
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Welcome, Laughter, Patience, Friendship, Honesty, Courage, Love of Christ, Bargaining advice in the market, Car rides, Yummy Tea, Delicious plates of goat meat, Music, Sharing your cultures, Beauty, Kiswahili lessons, Prayers for our family, and Love.

Posted on August 26th, 2009 by Shelvis
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“Your servant has nothing in the house except a jar of oil,” she answered.

Elisha said, “Go around and ask all your neighbors for empty jars. Don’t ask for just a few… Pour oil into all the jars… sell the oil and pay your debts. You and your sons can live on what is left.” (2 Kings 4: 3-7).

In the last month of my work with CWSEA, I helped evaluate Improved Livelihoods (IL) programs in Kenya and Uganda. The stories the participants shared about their experience in the program reminded me of the miracle of the widow and her oil (2 Kings 4:1-7). After her husband’s death, the widow was left with her two sons and her husband’s debt. When the prophet Elisha asked her what resources she had to pay the debt, she responded, “Your servant has nothing in the house except a jar of oil.” The woman did not realize that the little that she had (the oil), plus her own abilities, and the involvement of “the man of God,” was enough to meet her needs.

In order to pay her debt, the woman’s own skills were required; she made and sold a product. Her community was also involved; they shared their support through giving empty jars. God blessed their efforts, and the oil multiplied to fill all of the jars.

Elizabeth Wamucea, the leader of a women’s group in Nakuru town, started a business selling bananas. Becuase of her hard work and the help of a seed loan, she is now better equiped to pay school fees and provide housing, food and clothes for her family.

In a similar way, the people involved in the Improved Livelihoods (IL) program use their own skills, the support of their neighbors, and a small gift from the Church community in the US, to transform their situations. In the IL program, community members form groups within their neighborhoods for support and accountability. The participants then take inventory of their own skills and are trained in starting a small business. Next, a small loan, perhaps only $25-$60, is given as seed money to start a business. Once the initial loan is repaid, a larger loan can be taken (often $100-$125). And the businesses grow, slow and steady, and self-esteem grows, in leaps and bounds. As the small amount of money multiplies, the individual, their household, and the community feel the impact.

When visiting Improved Livelihoods groups, I marveled at the stories of financial, emotional, individual and communal growth. One of the groups, called the Kamuthi Marathon group (pictured above), started an Improved Livelihoods savings and loans program in 2005. CWSEA provided the funds and OAIC (the Organization of African Instituted Churches) trained the group and walked with them through the process of selecting, starting and managing their own businesses. The group included men and women, and they worked together to create a great sense of unity and love within their group.

Joyce is a group member as well as a teacher at the school the Kamuthi Group supports.

During our visit, the members explained, “We do not know how we would have survived the effects of the post-election violence in Kenya, if it were not for the support of our group.”

As the group members began making a profit with their entrepreneurial projects, they started a small school for orphans in their community who are unable to pay school fees. The group pays for uniforms and food for the children, and one of the group members serves as a volunteer teacher.

One of the women from the group (pictured below right) is skilled in hair dressing. Before receiving a small loan from the program, she worked casually doing hair when she could find a client. After receiving the loan, she was able to rent a room in the market for a salon. She now employs two hairdressers in her salon, and she is training three other girls in hairdressing. The members of the Kamuthi group are incredibly motivated to use what they have received and worked hard to grow, for the benefit of their community.

The miracle captured in 2 Kings 4 depicts God multiplying something small, which, when added with an individual and a community effort, provided sufficiently for a family. The miracle I witnessed with the Kamuthi group shares a similar storyline, yet it has a more communal impact.  It was a miracle of a small gift, multiplied by hard work, for the benefit of many.  The members’ care for each other and for their surrounding community was beautiful and inspiring. 

Mary Obiero manages the Improved Livelihoods Program for CWSEA and does a wonderful job!

Miracles continue to take place in our modern context, in many different forms. The lesson I learned from the Kamuthi group, is that our impact can be great if we: 1. use and develop our individual skills 2. combine them with the skills and resources of others 3. share our lives, skills, and the overflow of our work with our community – locally and globally.

And as lives are transformed, as families are able to provide for their own needs and as they reach out to uplift their neighbors, God is glorified. Amen

Posted on June 30th, 2009 by Nancy
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