Nyumba yangu

Here is where I stayed in Fort Jesus and some of my friendly neighbours

Wet Fish

I moved out of Fort Jesus back to my apartment last wednesday. It was a sad day. And I was surprised to be hit in the face with some hefty culture shock, I'd only moved a five minute drive away. The first night home we went out for dinner and to a new bar in Karen, a fancy part of Nairobi. I found myself feeling uncomfortable and out of place in a situation which was so normal to me in the UK. Culture shock can feel a bit like someone has pulled the carpet out from under your feet, like you return to your 'normal' life and find a big crack down the middle. I was feeling scared and asking God exactly how far away He wants to take me from where I was.


Often in the past I have felt guilty for enjoying nice and relatively expensive things while poverty kicked around in my head. This time I was angry about how some people can have relatively carefree and luxurious lives while others hustle and stress for the simplest things, but I didn't feel guilty about eating such delicious mash potato. I think what has changed is I've realised that life is essentially good wherever you are, as long as you have friends around and something to celebrate then its all gravy. Poverty is sick and wrong and people shouldn't have to live in slum conditions but those who do embrace life anyway. So while I enjoy mash potato in Karen, somewhere in Kibera a kid is enjoying teaching his little sister to touch her nose with her tongue; or a bunch of friends are cracking up hearing their friend sharing tales of the day; or a man eats some perfectly soft ugali after a hard days work; or a group of ladies sing their hearts out practicing choir for sunday.

But thats not to say its all fine the way it is and its OK for these sepatare worlds to carry on as they are, next door neighbours ignorant of each other's lives. Though the guilt has gone, injustice still stings. Some of my friends from Kibera are totally comfortable hopping between those two worlds like Paul, happy with a little and happy with a lot. I hope I'll get better at hopping too.

Dirty hands

Godwill, my current next door neighbour, came along on monday this week to join in praying for people in the Healing on the Streets ministry. He said it was a really humbling experience, he expanded the next day as we chatted over the washing up. He was saying that he is learning that God chooses to partner with us and involve us in His work even though we are so sinful. When we lay our hands on people and pray for them, stuff really is happening, God is healing people. In Godwill's words, 'It's so humbling that God would use these dirty hands to heal people.'