The nervous laughter in the audience was replaced by an uncomfortable silence as I paused, gazing out at the crowd of community leaders in front of me. Then I asked, “Is it true?” It was the type of question you can only ask if you’ve lived in a place long enough for those you’re asking to trust you—to trust that you know what you’re talking about and to trust that your reason for asking it is not to condemn, but to challenge, to trust that you desire good and not evil toward them. It was evident that the Holy Spirit was working as all around the room people slowly released the breath that they had been holding and began to nod their heads in agreement that yes indeed it was true. Some began to give verbal confirmation, looking at their neighbors with understanding on their faces. Several raised their hands wanting to share an example of how they had seen Bwana mkubwa at work in their community.
Mr., master, lord—the word bwana in Kiswahili has many variant meanings, but when paired with the descriptor mkubwa which literally means “big,” it embodies the leadership paradigm present in many Kenyan communities. At his best a bwana mkubwa is a benevolent figure, caring for those who look up to him for protection and provision. At his worst a bwana mkubwa only looks out for his own at the expense of others. In many cases he uses his position of influence and authority to amass wealth and power for himself, lording it over others, extorting bribes and favors, expecting to be catered to and served.
This worst side stands in direct contrast to what the Bible teaches about leadership. In Mark 10:42-45 Jesus says,
You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (NIV).
Prior to Jesus' words, James and John had come to him in private, asking for special places of authority in his kingdom. It was a scene that I had seen played out in front of me in Kenya and so I painted it for my listeners. A high ranking official would come to town and a large contingency of people would follow him around, trying to get close to ask for personal favors. This type of thing happens in many parts of the world, but in Kenya it happened in plain view with people literally hanging onto the coat-strings of important persons as they walked around at public events. It was as I started to pantomime this last picture of people holding onto a bwana mkubwa's coat that the crowd began their nervous laughter and settled into an uncomfortable silence, which prompted my question.
Some people might say that I did the wrong thing on that day when I openly talked about the idea of bwana mkubwa in a public setting in Kenya. They might say that we shouldn't judge other cultures, that their ways are simply different from our ways. Though reserving judgment is definitely important when living and working in other cultures, I believe that the Bible offers us a lens through which to look at all cultures, including my own. We do a disservice to others and to ourselves if we shy away from holding a mirror in front of them and in turn discount the one that they hold in front of us.
Some people might say that I did the wrong thing on that day when I openly talked about the idea of bwana mkubwa in a public setting in Kenya. They might say that we shouldn't judge other cultures, that their ways are simply different from our ways. Though reserving judgment is definitely important when living and working in other cultures, I believe that the Bible offers us a lens through which to look at all cultures, including my own. We do a disservice to others and to ourselves if we shy away from holding a mirror in front of them and in turn discount the one that they hold in front of us.
In the end, the response of my Kenyan friends speaks for itself. Rather than taking offense at my indirect critique of their presiding culture, they seemed relieved to have it out in the open. They could clearly see the parallel between what happened in their community and the story in the Bible. In a land ridden with corruption and tribalism, they seemed excited about making changes and doing things in a different way. One woman told me that she had been thinking about what she could give her young son for a graduation gift. After our time together, she said that she would give him a towel, a symbol of servant-leadership, which she hoped he would walk in all the days of his life. Bwana asifiwe! (Praise the Lord!)
