That Reminds Me...

I'm writing this post from Machakos, a beautiful town nestled in the hills of southern Kenya. Eight time zones from home, I've traveled over sixteen hours by plane and a few more by car to be here among people who speak Swahili, Kikamba, and some English (whenever we're off the college campus, where the English is quite good, we hear "How are you?" over and over again -- the equivalent to my Swahili "habari ako." We ask it, answer politely, and the conversation is over!). Although the campus itself has many modern conveniences, including electricity, hot running water, and wireless internet, life here is quite different from life at home (case in point: you never know when any of the above will cease to function, nor for how long).

But of course! I didn't come all this way for things to be the same. I'd be happy to assimilate all kinds of Kenyan practices, including tea and snacks twice a day and the welcoming attitude toward visitors. At times, however, the "newness" is exhausting. To cope, I find that my brain is constantly casting about for similarities to past experiences and known people, almost to the point of confusion!

Since I'm fearful of surpassing my "That reminds me of..." story quota with my new friends here, I thought I'd post a few of the more obscure ones here:

• At the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, I saw a large ink drawing of a nineteenth-century naval battle by the artist William Van de Velde. After reading that he sketched the battles while they were in progress, I thought of my brother Nick. As a child, he loved to draw basketball games from start to finish. This necessitated rather simplistic drawings (I think people were boxes with two legs askew), but the action was unmistakable, and the narration by the artist was priceless. I wonder if any of those drawings still exist?

• I also happened to observe a field trip of Dutch children at the Rijksmuseum. I stood back and watched the facilitator (who was in full costume complete with a huge wig) as she led the children on what appeared to be a treasure hunt throughout the museum. I couldn't understand her Dutch, of course, but her animation and the enthusiastic response of the class made me want to come along! When she released them to run and find the next item, they scurried off joyfully while she tottered along behind in her fancy high heels. I related to the chaperones of the group who, knowing how to behave in a museum, followed sedately, sharing indulgent smiles amongst themselves (except for the one mom -there's always one- who was running along just as excited as the students). I felt a kinship with them all. Since then, I'm pondering how to take my class to this exciting field trip, too...

• Last Sunday, I sat in on my Kenyan host's Sunday School class. I found that 10 and 11 year olds arrange themselves the same across the ocean: girls in front, boys crowded together in the back. All of them struggled to concentrate on the lesson until Ann stopped and introduced me. (The teacher in me was thinking, "Hurry up and tell them who I am! They can't think about anything else!")
  

• Naturally, I'm reminded of my family more than anyone else. Three things in particular have made me feel right at home: the constant use of mobile phones EVERYWHERE (one even rang in church this morning), the way my Kenyan hosts yelled for one another regardless of proximity or time of day, and the constant banter/argument over rules in a game I played with the other ABO-ers Friday night (as we cheerfully picked apart every last rule, I thought, "Phew -- the Djerfs are not the only ones!").