Letters from Africa: B is for Bwana

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.

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!)

Letters from Africa: P is for Polepole

Haraka haraka haina baraka. (Fast, fast brings no blessing.)

Polepole ndiyo mwendo. (Going slowly is the way.)

Travelers to East Africa soon hear these two important proverbs. But long before they master these sayings, they will likely encounter and wrestle with the deeply embedded cultural value that they represent—a slower pace of life, where long, quiet pauses are frequent, wedding guests willingly wait for hours for the bride and groom to arrive, and rush and hurry are out of place.

Contrast this to the Western lifestyle where we zip around at 65-75 miles per hour, running from activity to activity at a frenzied pace. We fill up the space in our lives with achievement, productivity, entertainment, and plenty of noise. We feel uncomfortable when there is even a short pause in conversation. “Time is money” so it’s best not to waste it by waiting around. We think that slow things are antiquated and that instant gratification is the only worthwhile kind.

So when a Westerner visits East Africa they react to polepole  in one of two ways. 1) They resist it, try to change it, insist on haraka haraka, complain about it, inevitable get angry and frustrated because of it or 2) they embrace it, learn from it, find joy, peace, and relationship within it, and begin to enjoy the journey. The fruit of each reaction is obvious. The first group leaves exhausted, drained, and without having gained or given anything while the second group breathes deeply and is transformed. Blessings flow to others as they learn to appreciate what this new approach to life has to offer and teach.

There is a spiritual parallel here that we don’t want to miss. In Isaiah 30:15 God addresses the nation of Israel. “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.” Repent, rest, be quiet, and trust—these are all words of turning and slowing, of waiting, of receiving from the Lord, receiving His salvation and strength in His timing and way. Sadly, like those reacting in the first way to the slow pace in East Africa, the nation of Israel insisted on resisting God’s way. Instead they trusted in the swiftness and strength of horses (v. 16-17). They tried to save themselves in their own timing and way. God said it would not work.

However, in verse 18 we see God’s heart as Isaiah says, “Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!” God has amazing promises of blessings for them if they are simply willing to wait. Outlined in verses 19-33 we see these blessings: weeping will cease, God will answer prayers, knowledge, wisdom, and understanding will not be hidden, divine direction will be available, God will be honored as false gods are abandoned, there will be a provision of physical and material needs, healing will occur, there will be rejoicing, God’s enemies will be defeated, and God’s name and voice will be known and heard. Ultimately God will be glorified. Wow! God’s graciousness is rich with blessing. Why would we want to do it any other way? But the truth is, just like the Israelites, often we want to “have none of it.”

Can we begin to grasp the simplicity and yet our struggle here? We have to slow down and wait. There is something that happens as we do this—we receive. Relationship and blessings abound. We hear Jesus’ whisper inviting us, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest” (Mark 6:31), but yet we don’t always come. He is saying, come, slow down, just be with me. Stop your doing, your running, your striving, and just be with me for awhile and I’ll work it all out. He is longing to be gracious to us and to bless us if we are willing to make space and time for Him. What an invitation! The question is which reaction is yours?  Are you sprinting haraka haraka on your own or learning to walk polepole with Him?

Letters from Africa: A is for Asante

It was a packed house at the local primary school. The guests of honor were ushered in amidst a colorful mass of humanity. The excited mammas had turned out in their brightest and best. Their children, as many as could fit in the corrugated, sheet metal building, wore their bright blue uniforms with pride. The guests, seated on a rough, wooden platform in the front, drank their warm sodas out of glass bottles and enjoyed a humble meal of rice and stew. The mammas' faces shone with joy as they danced and sang for the guests of honor. Person after person stood up and spoke and offered gift after gift to say asante (thank you).

Thank you--two simple words in English, one simple word in Kiswahili. Surprisingly, visitors to East Africa are often struck by how seemingly impolite Kiswahili-speakers can be. Tafadhali, the word for please is virtually unused and asante, though heard more often, is not sprinkled throughout human interactions the way it is in North America. Yet in comparison, so many times here we utter our thank yous without even thinking. We thank people who serve use, we send out our thank you notes, we follow the proper etiquette, but how many times do we genuinely have a thankful heart towards those to whom we direct our words? Instead we tend to approach life with a sense of entitlement. We want our preferences, our choices, our desires, our wants to be priority. We think we should get what we want whenever we want it.

Asante may not be the most frequently used word in East Africa, but it certainly is an attitude held by many there. I am humbled when I think about the men, women, and children whom I served in the central highlands of Kenya. So often it felt like we were doing so little for them. The need was so great and what we had to offer seemed so small. With humble thanks and reverence for God, most would welcome the material help we were able to provide and held us in very high esteem. My friends in that subsistence-farming community knew what is was to be in need, so they genuinely appreciated even the small things. Though the list of what we were able to accomplish in our programs did not seem very long, somehow it had helped to inspire hope. But that hope did not start with us, my friends had already planted the seed with their asante-approach to life and God caused it to grow (Isaiah 61:11).

The Bible tells us in 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 to "Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." My friends were already taking God at his Word by the time I came along--they were being joyful, they were praying, they were giving thanks in all circumstances. By modeling such, they gave me much more than I ever gave them and for that I say with genuine gratitude, "asante sana! (thank you very much!)"