Having someone else in your home can be uncomfortable. Especially when you know that person will never have an opportunity to live in a place like yours. I was acutely aware of this sensation today when movers came to deliver our couches and dining room table. My company spent over a thousand dollars on those items while these people might make $5 a day. They almost certainly live in a slum and will never experience a fraction of what I have. Until now I have been the one going to people’s homes. It’s been comfortable for me because I felt welcomed and included. It was all on my terms. But when we reversed the roles I felt awkward. Instead of them apologizing for their lack, I felt like apologizing for my excess. When someone sees where I live I can no longer deny the privilege I know I have. I have to face the humbling fact that I have been extremely blessed. I don’t think living here and enjoying these privileges is necessarily bad, but knowing that I have them keeps me humble and thankful. I do not merit or deserve anything that I call mine. The challenge, as always, is moving from a factual knowledge of my privilege to actively doing something about it.
I had an interesting weekend. Saturday was spent on Mombasa Road looking for furniture (Obviously we found some). Saturday night I went out with about 15 Americans for some choma (Kenyan barbecue). The choma was good but I’m not sure I like hanging out with so many wazungu, especially when they’re all American (I’m unpatriotic, deal with it). iAnyway, Sunday I tried to find a certain church, got lost, and ended up at this super African church. The speakers were blasting the gospel music as loud as they could and the preacher was definitely “preachin’ it”. I had to leave after a couple hours when they were just getting into it. Afterwards I met up with some friends for a game of soccer that turned into a huge match against a Kenyan youth group. We had fans and everything. I am proud to say we won and have been challenged to a rematch 🙂