It's All About the Relationship

In the US, we rely heavily on impersonal systems. We expect roads to go places, maps to be accurate, appointments to be kept, phones to work. Almost all of our business life and a good portion of our personal lives rely on systems that we expect to continue even if the people change.

In Kenya, it's all about the relationship. Relationships facilitate action. They keep common memory. They set prices for anything from mangoes to parking tickets. The quality of your relationships determines the quality of your life, and not just emotionally. The extent to which you know and are known controls what you are capable of in any given situation.

I recognize this. In lots of ways, I've quit expecting systems to work. When my parents visited, my mom asked lots of "why" questions, questions that assumed there was a standardized explanation for how things work. I was frustrated that I couldn't answer; I felt like blurting, "There might not be a reason! Or at least not one you or I could understand! Logic fails me so often here that I've quit trying to apply it!" Since then, I've moved from "there are no answers" to "relationships are the answer."

And so, when I was given the job of making dinner arrangements for the visiting Accreditation Team, I knew it would be pointless to call the restaurants 3 months in advance, make a reservation, and do billing arrangements over the phone. That's all system-based. That assumes the same person will own the restaurant in 3 months (or 3 weeks). That assumes there will be an appointment book where things are written down. And calling on the phone gives almost no relational weight to the request.

So two Saturdays ago, I put my hair in a bun, wore my glasses, chose carefully pressed khakis and a button-down shirt, wore big earrings, and stepped into heels. It was important to look professional, like I represented an organization that would have no trouble paying its bill. It was time to establish relationships.

The first two of the three restaurants are pretty close by, and I made them part of my Saturday errands. I came in, greeted, talked, looked around, then inquired about who I should speak with about reservations and invoices. The appropriate parties were brought in from back rooms, we sat and conversed, I chose tables and gave menu suggestions, I got business cards, and I gave them my cell phone number for further contact. I was successful.

However, the third restaurant was significantly farther away, I was running later than expected, and it's at a huge hotel that Westerners use on a regular basis. Surely they are used to the idea of making arrangements over the phone! Things went so well at the other two places; I'm on a roll. I knew I didn't want to call too far ahead- too much prior planning and things fall through the cracks here. So I waited until Monday afternoon to call, but I still did everything I could think of to assure that I was being thorough in a culturally appropriate way- I greeted. I asked their name. I told my own. I mentioned my organization. I explained why this was so important to us. I arranged for a front table when it was offered. I asked if an invoice could be sent back to me with the team. I verified this several times from different conversational angles. All in all, I was sure that things were set up well, that I had been successful, and that things would continue to go without a hitch.

Sure enough, the first two nights went swimmingly. Delicious meals were ordered and consumed, invoices were sent, and the Accreditation Team felt valued and taken care of. Their last night in Kenya came around, I made sure they had directions to the restaurant, they found their way just fine, and I mentally patted myself on the back for a job well done.

Two important facts: #1) People hardly ever talk on the phone here; they mostly text each other. My texting ringtone is soft and pleasant; my phone call ringtone is an obnoxious version of Flight of the Bumblebee. I chose this because it's distinctive, and I hear my phone ring so rarely that I need something that jars me to action. #2) I go to bed early so that I'm a nice teacher the next day. Gretta has often teased me about my watch alarm that went off at 8:50 PM for my first few years of teaching- time to leave wherever I was and head for bed so that I can fulfill my calling...

So anyway, it's 10:30 PM, and I'm asleep in my apartment. A tinny, jarring, annoying sound wakes me, I groggily recognize it's my phone, I try to locate the durn thing, and wake up enough to be concerned that I'm about to enter a family emergency on the other side of the world. But no, it's a Kenyan accent on the other end: "Hallo, how are you?" "I am fine and you?" "Me, I am fine. I am Mariam, from the Safari Park hotel. We have some clients here, and we cannot release them without payment. We do not know Rosslyn Academy. We do not have a credit relationship with them. And so we cannot release the guests until the bill is paid."

What?!? I've called! I've talked! I've been assured that there will be no problem! I called at this time on Monday! No, I don't remember who I spoke with! I have that information over at work, but I am currently at home! Obviously we are a trustworthy organization; I have given you a real phone number on which to get ahold of me! I am embarrassed for my organization! These are important visitors, and they are being treated badly! It is very important that they be released to go home! Who else may I speak to?!? How can we resolve this?!? I understand why that is your policy, but when I made these arrangements, no mention was made of that! Oh, you will go get the manager? And you will speak to him? And you will explain my case to him? You will call me back if there is still a problem? Ok. Fine. Thank you.

I roll my eyes, get back in bed, wait a few minutes for a return call, and drift back to sleep.

A half hour later, the bumblebee flies again.

I pick up the phone. "Hallo how are you i am fine how are you i am fine." After the requisite greetings, I have a man telling me that there's no way he can release these guests, they did not bring money with which to pay because we told they we've made arrangements for them, the restaurant says they can't take my credit card number over the phone to pay the bill because they can't run a number without the physical card: "We do not have that capability in Kenya." My tried and true conflict management strategy in Kenya is to just keep talking, so I continue to speak while changing out of my pajamas into my most professional clothing- red suit jacket, black skirt, dress shoes, hair in a bun, red lipstick. I'm pretty sure this isn't going to be resolved over the phone, that I'm going to have to show up in person, and that I'm going to have to drive the 30 minutes across town by myself at night to unravel this mess. So I'm gonna look serious when I get there. I ask the man if he really needs me drive across town, a woman alone in the middle of the night, to resolve this issue that shouldn't even be an issue. Eventually he gets me to promise that we will pay the bill by 6 PM tomorrow, he agrees to let the guests go, and our conversation ends.

But by now I'm dressed and in battle mode, so I can't just fall asleep again! My brain keeps going over and over how I should have gone in person in the first place, how I could have handled the situation better from a cultural perspective, whether I was a good representative of Christ, how I've made my school look bad to the people who are judging it, etc, etc, etc. I finally fell asleep between 2 and 3.

The next morning, I go to one of the administrators to see if we've received the invoice so we can pay it by 6 PM. He hears the story, is enraged, calls the hotel, and they back off and tell him he can pay it whenever finds it convenient. I'm inclined to think that gender expectations played a role in that. When a woman gets upset, it means nothing; that's what they do. When a man gets upset, you'd better respond.

At least the issue was resolved, the team got sent home eventually, and the bill was paid. But next time I know- there's no substitute for showing up in person. And I'm thinking it's time to change my ringtone.

Hoedown

Since we don't have autumn here, the Rosslyn Social Committee does their best to imitate fall with our October social: bonfire, weenie roast, pony rides.

But what's a hoedown without the dancing? And despite the 1/3 Baptist ownership of Rosslyn Academy, there was SQUARE DANCING.

I suppose posting something on one's blog makes it no longer a secret: I love to square dance. Not sure why. But I love it, as evidenced by this picture where I'm smiling big enough to swallow my own face.


The next morning, I was explaining to an African friend that we had been doing traditional American harvest dances. He nodded with understanding. But then I rethought- Is YMCA a harvest dance? What about the Electric Slide? Bunny Hop? Sure.

CFS

Ah yes, a Rosslyn tradition: CFS. It stands for "Really Long Days and Nights with Middle Schoolers" in Swahili. Just kidding. It stands for "Cultural Field Studies." In English.

And actually, the 3 days didn't feel that long this year- I'd been on the trip before, I knew some of what to expect, and I knew my coworker Tim and I would have each other's backs. I also felt more purposeful this time: our theme was Environmental Stewardship, and there were lots of ways to weave conversations and interactions around that idea. So I arrived at school Tuesday morning excited and ready.

The seventh grade had the shortest distance to travel, so we hung out in my classroom until the 6th and 8th grades were on their way. Former students of mine- do you miss the pi poster? =)

Free time always gives rise to interesting activities. I love this picture-so middle school. She's about to squash him like a bug.

The bus ride was fine, though I missed the hike on Crescent Island so I could take care of a girl who got a bit motion sick. We napped on the bus instead of hiking; I honestly can't complain. The class arrived at Elsamere in time for tea and sproutball (the best dodgeball variant I've ever seen- I'll have to teach it to you wyldlife leaders), and the next few days held campfires, water conservation activities, and afternoon at a local school playing soccer and touring each student's garden. We taught some sustainable farming skills, and I was pleased by the genuine interaction the students from both schools had with each other.

Of course the trip would not be complete without the boat ride to see the hippos:

Something you don't often see in North America- Lake Naivasha is surrounded and protected by papyrus.
The hippos are pretty close to the local beach- do you see how much bigger the mama hippo is than the babies?

A good Naivasha shot- Mount Longonot in the background (climbing pictures), acacia and papyrus on the shore, and hippos in the water.

The seventh grade arrived back at school on time Thursday afternoon. Parents remarked that I looked surprisingly energetic after 3 days with 41 seventh graders; thanks for your prayers for energy. And the long weekend for Moi Day came just at the right time- I slept most of the next day and haven't gotten sick, unlike several of my fellow chaperones.

All in all, it was a great trip. The academic work, biblical teaching, experiences, service project, and location all reinforced one idea: it pleases God when we take care of what He's given us. I've rarely seen such integration and clarity in a set of educational experiences, and I praise God for a wonderful week with my students and coworkers.

Eid Experiences

I had today off, due to Eid al-Fitr, and so of course I'm blogging instead of grading those Algebra tests that are staring accusingly at me.

And what a good day it was...
- breakfast at Java: delicious, albeit slightly bitter. I had lost a bet and had to purchase someone else's meal too. But at least the food was good, and the company didn't rub my nose in the loss...
- helping a friend learn to drive here: a good day for a leisurely excursion, with the purple jacaranda trees in bloom and the flame trees not yet gone. I got to enjoy the beautiful place in which I live, and he didn't wreck my car. Win-win.
- Hand & Foot tournament: oh, my dear NerdBoys back in Los Alamos, would you believe that I willingly chose to participate in several hours of playing a game? Miracles never cease. Another miracle- I did OK. And never cried. Not even once.
- a little catchup grading: helps me feel ready for next week's CFS trip (pictures from last year here).
- And finally, supper at Village Market, the shopping center nearby.

Now there's the part worth blogging about. There's a significant Somali population in Nairobi, generally Muslim, and today's holiday (end of Ramadan) brought them all out in style. Intricately woven head coverings, long-long-long skirts with golden ruffles peeking out the bottom, heaps of makeup and jewelry beneath scarves, tall skinny adolescent boys trying to look like men, scowling fathers, fluttering mothers, and all packed into the outdoor food court. I've never seen the place so full.

Lining up is definitely a Western cultural value that sometimes does and sometimes doesn't transfer here. Tonight, there was no transferring. I politely stood behind one woman, waiting to order my food, when 5 more crowded around me, grabbed my elbows, and scooted me backward out of their way. It didn't even interrupt their flow of their conversation. I found it hard to be patient, forgiving, and culturally sensitive when I had been craving this particular chicken sandwich for 2 hours... Eventually I shoved hard enough myself to get up to the counter, but then waiting for my food also involved trying to decide whether I really wanted to share my very small table with the groups of Somali men who kept coming by and asking if they could join me. Again, personal space and anti-social signals like reading a book alone are lost in a more communal culture, especially on a crowded party night. Eventually I scarfed my sandwich and bolted, overwhelmed by the noise of the special band hired for the occasion, the swarm of skirt-clad bodies, and the stares of so many.

But school will start again tomorrow, I'm refreshed from a day off, and life will regain its normal rhythm. Especially if I get back to those algebra tests.