My summer’s journey through Kenya continues. Abundant wildlife, the (very) loose construct of time, and small and large scale planning are topics considered as the days have rolled on.
A Trinity High School alum, I have crossed over to teach (and start a running club) at St. Xavier High School in Bungoma, Kenya this summer. The scope of Xaverian Brothers, which founded the school in 2018, stretches far and wide. Originating in Belgium, the Brothers now carry out their mission in six countries throughout the world, including Kenya. Together with my friend Bobby Nichols, I spend mornings praying with the postulants (men discerning to become Brothers), days down the hill teaching at St. X, and evenings “taking” dinner and playing cards with the postulants once again. We are situated on a lush campus with a gate and a guard, but sit less than three miles from the dusty, bustling town center of Bungoma.
We are joined by more than postulants and students. Chickens walk through various casual and professional settings and no one bats an eye. A lizard climbs the wall in the teachers lounge during a faculty meeting and no one notices. Hundreds of cows line every roadway, grazing or picking through trash. Sad donkeys pull carts to and fro.
They seem to be in no rush, and neither do the people here. It is a bright Sunday morning and we depart campus to attend mass at the local parish. Upon arrival, we find the church empty. Today, mass will be held outside. A new deacon is being introduced, which is cause for celebration, and so the church cannot hold us all.
Seated under a canopy of tropical trees and palms, morning sunlight beginning to poke through, mass begins with a variety of songs and the congregation clad in a series of matching uniforms—bright reds and yellows, aqua blues fill the space. Children take their place at the front after striding down the aisle, arms moving and legs churning in unison. It is 45 minutes before the first reading. The homily follows in no less than 40 minutes more. It is delivered in Swahili, so I don’t understand a single word. There are three collections; gifts brought to the altar include vegetables and a live chicken.
We are now into hour two, but I’m mindful of the innate sense of joy that time cannot pin down. Tirelessly, the choir still sways to to every spirited verse. During one song, I turn around and see one of the postulates smiling and dancing. I join him from my place in the second row, clapping my hands to the beat; some women behind me take notice and start laughing.
After starting at 7:30, the mass eventually ends at approximately 10:00. There is still an entire celebration for the deacon, but we leave after about 3 hours. On the way home we ask the postulates, how much longer will it last? 2-3 more hours, they respond. There is no Sunday full of activities or demands here. Besides, what else could be better than a day full of joyous dance in the name of the God you love with the community you care about?
Back at St. X, classes are conversely a regimented 40 minutes, but still never start or end on time. The week prior, freshman orientation lasts five hours. There is actually a name for this construct of time: “African time.”
“You might tell someone your event starts at 9 African time,” someone tells me. “That means it will likely start around 10.” As an individual who has always been notoriously late, I could get used to this.
Speaking of time, Africa has been an independent country for just over 60 years. The central hub of Nairobi was perhaps planned long ago, but has it been enough time for smaller towns such as Bungoma to fully develop?
Planning is still in the works on the school campus, as one Saturday morning its leaders walk through the grounds to survey progress. The 2,000 square foot eating hall receives its finishing touches. Ten trees have been downed in the past two days to eventually make way for an attractive courtyard.
This degree of planning and development takes place at an elite boarding school, but has it made its way to the center of town? There, thousands of people, picky picky motorbike taxis, and animals line the road, dust whirls in the air, and cement shops with fading or cracked signs sit five meters from speeding vehicles. Our guide Raphael says not much has changed from an infrastructure standpoint in the 20 years he’s resided in Bungoma, so it appears that a new wave of development has yet to materialize. Strong roads have just arrived, but “interior,” or more rural roads, remain rough and made of dirt.
How does planning intersect with African time? One of the Brothers kindly takes us on a one-day excursion to Kakamega rainforest and Lake Victoria. We depart too late, however, and do not arrive at the forest before closing. We do make it to Lake Victoria, but it becomes dark 15 minutes after we arrive. We cannot eat at the restaurant on the lake because we did not bring enough cash. Instead, we go out to a club in town and arrive back at home at 3 a.m. With a bit more planning, it was a trip that could have been incredible. Instead, it entailed 10 hours of driving on bumpy roads for less than incredible results. It seems that our default nature of hyper-planning in America has drawbacks and benefits alike.
When not teaching, I go with the postulants to town, where 75 boys arrive for lunch. They are “street boys,” homeless boys in Bungoma that sleep under the verandas at night. The Xaverian Brothers pay for them to come to a local cook and eat lunch twice a week—an expense that has drastically increased with the recent global inflation. Last week, the boys were apparently aggressive, but this week they greet us with smiles and fist bumps. Two are sniffing glue—a cheap way to get high and stay warm at night.
The Brothers also run the Ryken Center, which occasionally selects some of these street boys who exhibit promise and attempts to reintegrate them into school and society. So, not only are they providing an immediate need, but offering means of long-term rehabilitation as well. It is a noble mission they lead.
Another day, I traverse the countryside on a WaterStep journey. Headquartered in Louisville, WaterStep creates bleach makers and water purification systems for communities all across Africa. Ironically, our guide Raphael works closely with them. We visit two communities—one to train them on how to produce bleach in order to purify their water, and another to check in on how their equipment is functioning. The results have been good.
My time in Bungoma has come to an end. As a white male in the U.S., I’m not used to being objectified, but that’s been the case here! Children, who normally express whatever adults are actually thinking, stare, point, and laugh whenever I pass by. “Mzungu (white person)!” some yell. It feels strange to attract so much attention everywhere—I suppose another perk of life back home.
Our last two adventures across the world are a safari and beach vacation while the students are on break. After this collection of experiences, it feels very privilege-packed. We’re grateful for all of the good moments so far, though slowly processing some of the struggles as well.