Introspection, Thoughts from Rwanda, More Introspection, and my Mbezi Beach Classroom

Sunday 11 March, 2007 – 20:36 – Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

Leaving Kigali was not an easy move, but now with just a few days under my belt already Dar es Salaam has become a comfortable and familiar place to live. The other week my Iowa City pastor asked when my return home was scheduled – and in all honesty it took a moment to understand what she meant. Obviously she wanted to know when I’d be returning to Iowa City, but she used the word “home” – and I did not feel away from home. Cliché as it may sound, if home is where the heart is, then I am home everywhere I go – because I cannot help but dole out the depths of my soul to the people I am with.

I have been pondering a paradoxical realization of late in regards to the self. This past year put me through many experiences that profoundly impacted me. The paradox is that while on one hand I know exactly who I have become – that is, I am fully cognizant of the effect these powerful experiences have had on me - on the other I have no idea who I am because I no longer completely relate to any one culture. Certainly I am not African; I was born and raised in the United States. And yet I am not American, because I have matured in Africa. And even within this enormous blanket called Africa, I do not belong to any one people group or culture. With Samburu lips I point to objects, and with Rwandese eyebrows I acknowledge people. Even the Swahili I speak is a mixture of dialects form Kenya to Congo, and my English certainly is not the same. And more than these external markings, I have changed internally too; my whole thought process is different. I have learned to walk places with the chi in my stomach rather than with the swiftness in my legs. It is an African way of walking that I never understood until one day I saw the transformation in hindsight. And my concept of inherent rights has totally shifted. Parts of me come from so many places; I am not sure how I will culturally re-enter the United States.

Last night, for example, I went to a bar for goat and coke and struck up a conversation with a Maasai. A short while later we were head to head in one of his tribe’s rhythmic high-jumping contests – jumping and groaning, chanting, shaking our heads and rocking our chins to the same beat. Stuff like that does not strike me as odd anymore – just fun (by the way, they walk around the city just like they do in the bush, wearing traditional clothing with big holes in their ear lobes and an intimidating whooping sticks in their armpits – and also by the way, I beat the Maasai in his own game… but he was slightly inebriated).

Perhaps I should compose a final analysis of Rwanda, but much of what I learned will likely trickle its way to consciousness over the next few weeks, months, years – so I am not in an adequate position to make finalized statements about the country. It did, however, leave me with a major transformation. I used to feel guilty for my privilege, but I do not anymore. In fact, in this sense I find guilt is a useless emotion that does not lead to anything productive beyond the alleviation of our own pain. The line between guilt and compassion is incredibly thin – and yet incredibly deep. I have crossed into that other land. And not only have I crossed, but I have understood the cross – and when examining privilege, where I used to find utter guilt I now see but utmost responsibility.

In his book Compassion, Henri Nouwen describes the title’s only word as finding the most intense area of pain and making one’s home there. From that vantage point we can assist people to mental, emotional and spiritual freedom. That is the responsibility Rwanda put before me, a lesson applicable whether living in East Africa, The United States, or anywhere in between.

This is not easy to bring about, and it is certainly not simple. When Christians talk about spiritual freedom, religion floods the mind – but it should not necessarily do so because by itself it is not a good answer. I am now realizing that the church has had a terrible impact on people around the world because it has not brought spiritual freedom but religious imprisonment, teaching people to believe and not think. It gives them faith, but not the ability to reach faith via understanding – and this is disempowering. When people are told to merely accept faith, then it is not their own but rather their evangelists’. But mental freedom is not attained when people hold fast to what is true without first testing everything. Because faith becomes a rigorous and measurable system of behaviour choices that, if followed to perfection, will lead to freedom (and not simply an expression of intense love for God), people can be twisted into incredible amounts of emotional anxiety; the conformity they strive for is not necessarily who they are or even who they truly want to become. Even if this sort of control moves people in a positive direction, it strangely resembles dangerous brainwashing of awful regimes from the last century – a sort of blind faith in what someone says. So if people are not being taught to think for themselves, how much have we really progressed? This is blind faith is endemic of the world-wide church, and certainly true of the early steps in my own faith journey

In making these observations I am not trying to set myself apart as more righteous by preaching division from the church, because I do not have a corner on the market of wisdom. These are just some observations from a kid who is in the church, not of the church, but certainly not outside the church, so take them all with a grain of salt. Know that they are just as much criticisms of myself as they are of anyone else... and if we don't have the freedom to comment when we see things starting to go awry, then we don't have the freedom to be honest, vulnerable, intimate, and real before each other and thus, as a body, before God.

The church is not a bad institution, though. It means well in assisting people to healing beyond what the world can provide – and I believe Christ has the power to do that, and the only power to do it completely. Many people have experienced depths of emotional pain that I hope to never know, and yet have come out of their valleys through faith and support of the Church. This is certainly true in Rwanda, where, through the church, people have learned freedom - freedom to forgive, freedom from their past, freedom to reconcile, heal, and love. It is also true of many other parts of the world. But in pushing the end result we’ve often forgotten that the path and process to get there is also important. So how do we bring people to spiritual, emotional, and mental health? I don’t know completely, just that it takes time, deerves attention to the individual's needs, and cannot be formulaic.

As a post-note, I would like to insert snippets from an email a friend sent because I think he more closely and concisely says what I was trying to get at:

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...you are right in your critique of faith being pawned in our churches absent of critical thinking. What kind of love is that for God when we don't search his ways and explore his mysteries? Is it an arranged marriage with Jesus? Or is there a courtship...a time to explore before committing? At least I think that is what you were trying to communicate. It is prevalent in the church everywhere. Did God say, "Love me with all of your heart and strength", but not with your mind? No, with our minds, too.

What I've found is that I believe everyone is strong in some areas and everyone is weak in some areas. And we need to be humble in all areas. Same goes for churches... they all have strengths and weaknesses (blindspots). How can the Church be humble enough to admit this? How can we be humble enough to admit this? God have mercy on us all!

***

My perception of the root of Africa’s problems has also changed through many conversations with native friends who have helped me to see another angle. Previously I saw Africa as a victim of outside exploitation, and all this business about globalization and neo-liberal ideology really irked me. But I no longer think this is the sole cause of this continent’s problems. While Africa is a victim, it is also a culprit to its own suppression because of mismanagement, slow cultural work ethic and a lack of synchronization in movements to overhaul the status quo. Curious that as outsiders we blame ourselves, yet Africans also claim responsibility.

Anyway, enough of this speculation and back to Dar es Salaam. It is incredibly beautiful here, like a vacation, which makes me feel irresponsible after having buried both children and adults who died from needless causes, knowing these sorts of things do not just stop when I am not around to see them but continue to go on. But my objective here is to learn Swahili and not to single-handedly save the world, so I am trying to learn to loosen up. Earlier this evening I befriended a Tanzanian of about the same age, sitting together at the point of the beach where the soft sand stops and the hard sand starts, just beneath the line of driftwood in the flat spot where the tide comes in. It was wonderful, laying there in the setting sun, learning Swahili as he wrote words with his finger in the sand – with occasional waves clearing the slate for more phrases. Not to brag, but from time to time coconuts washed ashore beside our classroom. And it was nice too, because he wanted to learn English – and we both knew just enough of each other’s mother tongues to facilitate learning without one language becoming a crutch and thus dominating the conversation. We are going to meet again tomorrow on the beach at the same time to continue our learning. So I think I’ll continue like this, taking three and a half hours of structured Swahili courses from a tutor in the morning, then using friendship to improve upon and perfect what I learned in the afternoon and early evenings. Although I cannot see the future or where this skill will take me, I am excited to get there, and until then will continue to work hard. Good night!

ps. If you were wondering, I found out this week that I am 29th on an alternate-list for med school at Iowa.