Scintillae

Respect our Armed Forces at Holloween

2009-10-24T14:44:00.002-05:00

Everybody loves Holloween. Well, at least most people do. I'm especially excited now that I have a 10-month-old daughter that my wife Lindsy and I have resolved to dress up like a giant pumpkin (it's far too cute for words). Provided that you have a safe and friendly neighborhood, going from door to door and collecting treats is a time-honored tradition for kids and parents alike, and many of the parents get into it with costumes of their own.

However, last year, both around town and at Holloween parties, I ran into a few folks who were dressed in military uniforms as a Holloween costume. I understand that putting on some BDUs or an old Class A uniform that you found at an army surplus store is an easy way of dressing up as something you're not, but I hope that people will think twice about this. Really, it is in very poor taste, and it is insulting to those men and women who wear the uniform of our country (or any country) and are willing to risk their lives to protect us. Now, of course, there are exceptions. I think if you are dressing up as an historic military figure, an historic uniform would be reasonable (General Robert E. Lee, General George Washington, etc.). Similarly, there are fictional characters that require a military or pseudo-military uniform (the Nutcracker, George Philip Sousa). This is all well and good.

The problem I'm addressing is the wearing of uniforms that are in use by current, active-duty military personnel. Service members are quite rightly taught to have a very high level of respect for their uniforms, as they are symbols of their dedication to their branch of service and to the country. They are taught to wear them properly, to exacting specifications, as a mark of that respect. Believe me when I tell you that any current or former member of any military branch or unit would never, never (am I being clear enough?), NEVER wear the uniform as a "costume." It would be like using the flag of the United States as a tablecloth or slip cover for your couch.

I'm not talking about kids here. There is a time-honored tradition for kids to dress up on Holloween as all manner of things, including the uniforms of professions they especially respect or might want to pursue when they grow up (fireman, policeman, doctor, sports star, etc.). A kid who dresses as a soldier is indicating his or her approval and admiration for military service, and very likely has a close relative who is or was in the military. This is fine, and even to be encouraged.

Adults, on the other hand, presumably have a job. As I said before, if they are members of the military, they most certainly would not consider the uniform a costume. If they are not members of the military, they don't have any business wearing an active-duty form of the military uniform. Period.

So, before you grab that green Class A coat and trousers off the rack at the Army Surplus Superstore and tack on a rank you don't have and a random assortment of ribbons you did not earn before going off to the Holloween party, stop and give due consideration to the men and women who wear that same uniform (and especially those who have died in that same uniform), and whose sweat and blood earned them the ribbons and the rank insignia they wear. They deserve to be honored and thanked. They do not deserve to be parodied.

Heartland for Change Tour

2008-09-16T12:53:00.000-05:00

On Sept. 7, I attended the Barack Obama campaign stop in Winona as part of their “Heartland for Change Tour.” The focus of the discussion was the economy and jobs, but the very interested and engaged group that gathered at the Blue Heron Coffeehouse was equally interested in many issues that connect to these, such as health care, taxes and education.

Of course, in a roundtable discussion lasting a little more than an hour, the fine details of Sen. Obama’s proposals couldn’t be discussed, but I was very encouraged by the accessibility of campaign representatives and their desire to take the discussion to communities around Minnesota (they had been in Red Wing earlier that morning).
The all-important first step to good leadership is the willingness and ability to really listen to people and to seek out their opinions and hear their concerns.

These days, working families worry quite rightly about the weak economy, the risk to their job security and falling real estate values. They are concerned when they see jobs being sent overseas and the companies that outsource them being rewarded by tax breaks. The United States has a tremendously flexible and well-educated work force, and we truly need government policies that keep jobs here, create new jobs, and invest in new and emerging industries (such as renewable energy) that will ensure America’s future economic growth.

As a college professor, I worry about the job market that my students will enter upon graduation. In recent years, this has become increasingly challenging, both because fewer jobs exist and because the burden of student loans that graduates carry is growing steadily as student aid is cut. And now, thanks to the tightening of credit, even the loans are harder to obtain. These young people are eager to work hard, but they are increasingly squeezed out of the market.

We really do need change on several fronts. Sen. Obama and his representatives don’t pretend that these things will be easy, but they are, in my opinion, focusing on the right problems and working to formulate real solutions. I am very encouraged that similar conversations are happening at the local level across our state and country. This is exactly how real people address real concerns and find lasting solutions.

United States of Amnesia

2007-08-10T09:22:00.000-05:00

World War II Memorial, Washington, DC

Americans are very good at forgetting things. Of course, all peoples have this capacity, but it seems that affluent nations are especially adept at ignoring the lessons of history. Perhaps there is an unavoidable correlation between affluence and cultural and political amnesia. Perhaps this is history's "safety valve" which ultimately deflates empires, from Babylon to Rome to the British Empire.

In defense of my fellow citizens, it is tempting in the extreme to live in the moment when the moment is luxurious (and I use that term comparatively). Why remember failures and fiascos of the past when one has 200 cable channels and cold beer? Why study history at all? It seems that the level of historical awareness of students entering university studies in the United States has declined alarmingly, even in the past 12 years in which I have been a full-time professor. Identifying important dates in American or world history is all but impossible for the vast majority of college students I see. Lest you feel too smug about your own history IQ, here are a few important dates. Take a moment to list the corresponding events (answers follow at the end of this article):

44 BCE
314 AD
800
1066
1492
1620
1776
1789
1812
1815
1861
1917
1929
1939
1941
1945
1949
1953
1964
1968
1974
1981
1986
1991
1995
2001

Of course, not everybody will score 100% on this little quiz, but I've seen students fail to identify any of the dates (well, perhaps with the exception of the last one).

The United States is only recently a powerful nation, following the enormous industrial buildup of World War II, and the devastation of the world's primary European powers in that conflict. We have thus only been a "superpower" for half a century. Yet, in this relatively brief span of time, we appear to have forgotten that before WWII, we had a very modest military for a country of our size (under 190,000 troops). By 1945, this had swelled to 1.6 million. Having been finally drawn into the conflict, with its industrial capacity and relatively large population, the US became, along with the Soviet Union, the major actor on the world stage.

Americans born after World War II can scarcely imagine a world in which the United States is a second- or third-rate military and political power. We might consider the microcosm of a family over several generations as a parallel.

Most Americans of today are descended from immigrants, who in most cases left their countries of origin precisely because they were not rich or powerful. They came in search of a better life - economically, politically, and spiritually. As one traces a family from its immigrant generation through subsequent generations, the affluence of the family almost invariably increases. A conflict develops between a desire to remember and honor ethnic and cultural origins and a desire to forget the hardships and sacrifices of earlier generations. Over time, at least in the American experience, the forgetting appears to gain the upper hand.

So it is with nations. Americans, and notably those in power, prefer not to remember our precarious national origins as a "breakaway" colony. I do not suggest that the founders of this nation were anything but thoughtful and courageous people. On the other hand, the framers of our Constitution were very well aware of history's lessons, and incorporated concepts drawn from these lessons into the documents that still today form the basis of our republic. Sadly, in the midst of our great military might and economic power, today's leaders scarcely seem to grasp even the most fundamental principles of the agreeable conduct of nations, and thus commit the most egregious blunders.

There is a remedy, of course. We must teach our children our history - with all its warts and blemishes. We must insist that they understand the fluid nature of international politics and power, and they must know something of our nation's founders and their vision (as well as their disagreements and struggles). We can start by teaching our children the history of their own families, of the courage of pioneer ancestors, the selfless sacrifice of veterans, the struggle of slaves for freedom, and the desperation of the Dust Bowl and the Depression. There are heroes and villains in every family history, and lessons for each of us to learn from them. As we learn our personal and familial histories, we learn how our ancestors shaped this nation and their nations of origin. Perhaps we also learn from their failures.

Mark Twain was once quoted as saying that history doesn't repeat itself, but it does "rhyme." There is a great deal of rhyming going on at this very moment. However, with no sense of history much of our population lacks the ear to hearken to the poet's warning.

Answers to some significant dates:

44 BCE - Murder of Julius Ceasar
312 AD - Conversion of the Emperor Constantine to Christianity
800 - Charlemagne crowned Holy Roman Emperor
1066 - Normans invade England, William I "The Conqueror" becomes King
1492 - Christopher Columbus discovers the "New World"
1620 - The Mayflower lands and Plymouth Plantation is established by the Puritans
1776 - Declaration of Independence (July 4th)
1789 - French Revolution
1812 - War of 1812 begins. (Washington captured and burned by the British in 1814)
1815 - Defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo (June 18th)
1861 - US Civil War Begins (Ft. Sumter, SC - April 12th / Bull Run, VA - July 21st)
1917 - US Enters Word War I (war began in 1914)
1929 - Stock Market Crash (October 29th)
1939 - World War II Begins (Germany invades Poland September 1st)
1941 - Japan attacks Pearl Harbor, Hawaii (Dec. 7th. US joins WWII Dec. 8th)
1945 - End of World War II (May 8th in Europe, Aug. 15th in Pacific)
1945 - US drops Atomic bombs on Hiroshima (Aug. 6th) and Nagasaki (Aug. 9th)
1949 - First Soviet atomic bomb test (August 29th).
1953 - Death of Josef Stalin (March 5th)
1964 - Gulf of Tonkin Incident (US dramatically increases troop presence in Vietnam)
1968 - Assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. (April 4th) and Robert F. Kennedy (June 6th)
1974 - Watergate Scandal (break-ins of 1972) results in resignation of President Nixon (August 9th)
1981 - Assassination attempts on President Reagan (March 30th) and Pope John Paul II (May 13th)
1986 - Space Shuttle Challenger explodes 73 seconds after takeoff (January 28th)
1991 - Operation Desert Storm "Gulf War" (air assault begins Jan. 17th, ground assault Feb. 24th)
1995 - Oklahoma City Federal Building Bombing (April 19th)
2001 - Terrorist Attacks on World Trade Center, NYC and the Pentagon (Sept. 11th)

Memorial Day

2007-05-31T12:44:00.000-05:00

In memory of my ancestors who served the United States:

Francis Joseph William Bilodeau (1897-1950)
Sergeant, 178th Aero Squadron
United States Army
World War I

Michael Joseph O’Shea (1889-1971)
Sergeant, 12th Coastal Artillery Company
Rhode Island National Guard
World War I

Charles Edward Knight (1841-1923)
Corporal, Company I, 46th Massachusetts Vol. Infantry
United States Army (Union)
Civil War

Jonathan Pierce (1734-1800)
Private, Col. Job Cushing’s Regiment
Revolutionary War

Daniel Alexander (1741-1831)
Private, Col. Ebenezer Larned’s Regiment
Revolutionary War

Charles Foster Simpson (1744-1834)
Drummer, Massachusetts Line
Revolutionary War

Most Tragedies are Not

2007-01-03T14:44:00.000-06:00

Oedipus with the Sphinx, from an Attic red-figure cylix, ca. 470 BC (Vatican Museum)

Nitpicky word usage posts are, no doubt to the relief of the reader, not my usual essay type. However, I would like to raise an objection to the pervasive use of the word "tragedy" in popular media. The misuse of tragedy, in fact, has now nearly escalated to the level of abuse perpetrated with "impact," which is now far more often used to mean "effect" or "influence" instead of its proper meaning of "collision." My students know all too well how that particular malapropism raises my hackles.

Most of what is labeled as "tragedy" these days is simple misfortune. When bad things happen, it is not unreasonable to call them "disasters" (literally, "bad stars" or ill fate), or terrible accidents. Clearly, bad things do happen, and we as human beings feel sympathy for those harmed, particularly if such misfortunes come as a result of no action of the victims. It does seem, though, that "tragedy" is increasingly applied to every school shooting, motor vehicle accident, military casualty, or health problem featured in the media. This, however, is not appropriate use of the term, as tragedy should really only be used in special circumstances.

Tragedy has a particular meaning, and while it does include the unfortunate downfall or destruction of the protagonist in a classical, dramatic context, the destruction or suffering of the principal character is not the only requisite element. The protagonist must be of heroic stature, larger than life, and must be a good person or at least have qualities that are admirable, so that the audience identifies with or approves of that character. There is no sympathy for the destruction of a purely evil character. And, of equal importance, the downfall of the protagonist comes about as a result of some weakness, the "tragic flaw."

Perhaps the most famous of the ancient tragedies is Oedipus Rex. Oedipus, while loved by the people of Thebes for saving them from the plague, displays the flaw of hubris, or excessive pride. This is particularly apparent when he refuses to yield the road to an older man. In the ensuing fight, the man is killed by Oedipus, who is unaware that the man is his father. Of course, the other part of the prophecy concerning Oedipus has to do with his unwittingly marrying his own mother, Jocasta, which has led to Oedipus' Freudian immortalization.

Tragedy, of course, need not be relegated to the description of theatrical or literary works. There are real-life tragedies, and it is perfectly reasonable to describe them as such. However, before CNN slaps the tragedy label on a story, it would be prudent for the copywriters to consider the elements of the definition:

1. Does the story concern a person of great stature, generally seen as "good" by most?

2. Does/did the person have a particular flaw or make a particular mistake in spite of being "good" in the eyes of the public?

3. Did the flaw/mistake cause this person’s downfall or injury or death?

4. Does the public feel sympathy for the fallen person?

If the above conditions aren't met, the event is not a tragedy in the classical sense. Even with this restricted definition, we can point to plenty of contemporary tragedies in the world. Just as with plays or novels, real-life tragedy produces what one of my 8th-grade English teachers eloquently described as the "holy s&*# response," or the somewhat more literary, "there but for the grace of God go I" (spoken by The Rev. George Whitefield as he watched a condemned criminal being led to execution). We feel for the fallen hero, because we recognize in ourselves a similar flaw or all-too-human weakness, and we are led to conclude that if even a person of heroic stature can be laid low by this weakness, we must be doubly on our guard against it. It is thus a didactic tool in the hands of the playwright and the novelist, and we can similarly draw valid lessons from real-life examples.

We have all seen tragedies, either in the media or personally. We all know of great people who have fallen as a result of a flaw or mistake. It is natural to be sympathetic, and it is important to learn from such unfortunate examples. The result, at least according to dramatic theory, is a catharsis or cleansing that comes from the realization that we recognize the tragic flaw, and that we can take steps to avoid it in our own lives.

So, please use "tragedy" responsibly. It is an especially potent word with significant connotations. And, when you witness a genuine tragedy unfold, it is entirely appropriate, indeed necessary, to give way to sympathy for the fallen hero, and to understand that the flaw or mistake is a mark of humanity even in the context of greatness. The ancient Greeks understood this well, and knew that sympathy for human frailty, even in those we most revere, was important to our society and to our very souls.

There but for the grace of God go any of us.

-PMÓS

No Compulsion in Religion

2006-09-21T12:40:00.000-05:00

The Byzantine Emperor Manuel II Palaiologos (1350-1425)

The “Taking Remarks Out of Context” award for 2006 goes to…

Those irresponsible Islamic leaders who have decided to use Pope Benedict XVI’s quote of the Byzantine Emperor Manuel II Palaiologos as an incitement to rioting and anti-Christian (and more broadly anti-Western) sentiment in the Muslim world.

The “controversy” is, ultimately, a non-issue. Let us examine the exact phrase that has been so often repeated in recent days, devoid of its proper context:

“Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.”

Clearly, had the Pope himself been making such a statement, the anger of the Islamic man or woman on the street would be understandable. However, if one reads the entire speech (available on the Vatican’s web site), it becomes very clear that the Holy Father was not himself echoing that view. The quote is taken from a longer excerpt of the Emperor’s dialogue with an educated Persian about the nature of Holy War and the issue of forcible conversion to a religion. Indeed, Benedict goes on to state that the Emperor “addresses his interlocutor with a startling brusqueness, a brusqueness which leaves us astounded.” In so stating, the Holy Father recognizes clearly that Manuel II Palaiologos is being less than respectful.

However, the point of the Emperor, which is, finally, what the Holy Father wished to reference, is made in the next segment of the quote, which has thus far been absent from any of the media accounts of this supposed controversy:

"God is not pleased by blood - and not acting reasonably is contrary to God's nature. Faith is born of the soul, not the body. Whoever would lead someone to faith needs the ability to speak well and to reason properly, without violence and threats... To convince a reasonable soul, one does not need a strong arm, or weapons of any kind, or any other means of threatening a person with death...".

The fact that the Byzantine Emperor poked a finger in the eye of Islam in the context of a theological debate (Dialogue 7 of Twenty-six Dialogues with a Persian) should not be terribly surprising. The Byzantine Empire at this time was a mere shadow of its former self, with the Ottoman Empire continuing to erode its territory. Manuel II had a good relationship with the Ottoman leader Mehmed I, but following his death in 1421, Manuel attempted to influence the Ottoman succession, ultimately angering the eventual successor, Murad II. It should be remembered that Manuel II’s son, Constantine IX, was the last Byzantine Emperor, killed when Constantinople itself was sacked by the Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II in 1453. The “brusqueness” of the language in the quote was occasioned by the times, and by a perception of encroachment by the Ottomans on the capital city of the Empire.

Sadly, the contemporary reaction to the innocent use of the larger quotation by the Holy Father seems to make the larger point of the speech. We should remember that the address was given to scientists at the University of Regensburg, and that the underlying theme was a call for rationality in religion. The Holy Father asserted that religion must also speak to reason, and he further held that the concept of “holy war” or forcible conversion to religion is contrary to reason. It is in this context that Manuel II’s words are invoked. The medieval Emperor saw Islam as advocating forcible conversion, and this, the Emperor thought, was incompatible with truly religious outlook, since conversion by force can never appeal to either the intellect or to the soul.

It is in this context that Benedict turns to the first chapter of Genesis, and the Greek word “logos,” which means both “word” and “reason.” God acts with reason, and expects mankind to act with reason. “In the beginning was reason.” This is the quite understandable logic in quoting Manuel II’s dialogue. The quotation illustrates that the concept of reason in religion is certainly not new, and that “reason” versus “transcendence” has for centuries been an aspect of the comparative discussion of Islam and Christianity.

In a way, Benedict XVI laments the movement of the medieval church away from this rationality, in effect a dismissal of the crucial threads of Greek thought woven into the early church. Religion must include rationality. However, Benedict also cautions against rationality applying only those matters that can be verified empirically. He sums up his position thus:

“The intention here is not one of retrenchment or negative criticism, but of broadening our concept of reason and its application. While we rejoice in the new possibilities open to humanity, we also see the dangers arising from these possibilities and we must ask ourselves how we can overcome them. We will succeed in doing so only if reason and faith come together in a new way, if we overcome the self-imposed limitation of reason to the empirically verifiable, and if we once more disclose its vast horizons. In this sense theology rightly belongs in the university and within the wide-ranging dialogue of sciences, not merely as a historical discipline and one of the human sciences, but precisely as theology, as inquiry into the rationality of faith.”

In an address to scientists, such a statement is most helpful in explaining the embracing of logic by theology, while delineating it clearly from science as a discipline. In Benedict’s view, science is a much more highly focused and specialized mode of inquiry. Theology cannot be held within the same parameters.

And so we return to the matter of burning the Pope in effigy and the street protests that have dominated the news. There is not much reason or rationality in evidence in these events. In fact, they are the hallmark of emotionally-driven reactions, incited by clerics who are irresponsible and, in many cases, motivated by personal or political gain. Keeping the Muslim faithful angry at the West, or at Christians, is good politics in many parts of the world. This is unfortunate, to say the least, but it is undeniably the case. Of course, such behavior is, at the very least, shortsighted. At worst, it is knowingly malicious and intellectually dishonest.

I have heard, in recent days, interviews with Muslim scholars and clerics in several media outlets. While they appear, for the most part, to regret the violent reaction to the Pope’s speech, they still feel compelled to criticize the Holy Father for using the quote of Manuel II Palaiologos. Why? Can they not see the point of using this quote? Can they not separate the words of a medieval Byzantine emperor from those of the Holy Father in an academic address? They are either very dull indeed, or else they are knowingly ignoring the true intent of the speech. The societal pressure in the Muslim world must be rather intense on this front, and I do sympathize with their plight. However, scholars and responsible leaders within the Islamic faith should have the courage to stand up to the pseudo-outrage whipped up by those who are not concerned with genuine dialogue or intellectual honesty.

The point of the Holy Father was, and is, that religion must appeal to the soul and the mind of the faithful person. It is overlooked for the most part that he also makes the following quote from the Qur’an:

"There is no compulsion in religion.” (Surah 2, 256)

It would be well if those who are protesting read this entire speech more carefully, and perhaps meditate on an additional passage from Qur’an itself:

“Let there be no hostility except to those who practice oppression.” (Surah 2, 193)

It is difficult to see how the Holy Father’s speech is in any way a form of oppression, or how it could be taken to advocate oppression. It is, in fact, quite the opposite, advocating freedom of intellectual enquiry in the support of faith. Surely, this is something that Islam as well as Christianity should embrace.

It's the End of the World (Again)

2006-08-21T11:17:00.000-05:00

The Israeli-Hezbollah conflict recently raging in Lebanon had Evangelicals salivating. It seems that many were convinced that the fighting in the Holy Land was a sure sign that the end is near, and that the rapture is coming. Unfortunately for them, the recent conflagration was merely the latest manifestation of ham-handed US foreign policy and the Bush Administration’s lack of engagement in the peace process. And we should remember that there have been many previous candidates for the prelude to Armageddon.

When Rome was sacked in 476, essentially ending the Western Empire, there was little doubt that Our Lord and Savior was soon to return. In 1099, when the 1st Crusade finally took Jerusalem, the Christians saw themselves as ushering in the Kingdom of Heaven (Orlando Bloom movies notwithstanding). When Saladin reclaimed the city, it was a sure signal that the end times had come. Of course, the real end of the world was heralded by the fall of thousand-year-old Constantinople in 1453, which snuffed out the Byzantine Empire.

But clearly, those who saw the end of days in the above events were wrong, as were those who jumped out of windows on Wall Street when the market collapsed in 1929. Indeed, how could anybody doubt that the violent death of our world took place between 1939 and 1945? From the perspective of those in concentration camps, the horror of Hitler’s “final solution” could not have been anything else, as evidenced by composer Olivier Messaien’s most famous work, Quartet for the End of Time. But, in spite of the cruelty and the inhumanity, the world stubbornly persisted.

Obviously, we were awaiting a war in the Middle East specifically. 1967 was a good candidate, but perhaps Israel, which occupied significant territory previously in Arab hands, did a bit too well, staving off the required utter disaster. The Iranian Revolution and the energy crisis of the 1970s made it unquestionable that we should prepare to meet our maker. The 1991 Gulf War once again raised the hope of those who would be raptured away, leaving the rest of us poor saps to endure the horrible reign of the Antichrist. This was, we can be sure, merely a prelude to the 2003 Iraq War, which in more than three years has not led to the Rapture, the rise of the Antichrist, or any angels opening the Seven Seals (at least I have not heard the trumpets from here).

So, clearly, the fighting in Lebanon MUST be the first stages of the apocalyptic battle. Fasten your Rapture seatbelts, boys and girls. Any time now… But who plays the role of the Antichrist? It must be the Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah. Yes, surely it is he. There cannot have been any previous candidates fitting the description. Well, that is unless you consider Saladin, Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan, Hitler, Nasser, Ayatollah Khomeni, Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, and a few others that have auditioned for the part. It would seem that Antichrist is a difficult job to land.

The truly maddening thing is that this fascination with eschatology leads to an abdication of responsibility. If the world is not going to be here in twenty or thirty years, what does it profit us to clean up the environment or avert further global warming? Why attempt to feed the hungry of the world and cure HIV/AIDS? Why, in short, do anything except preserve one’s own piety? It seems to me, however, that self-righteous jumping up and down and shouting about how much one loves Jesus while ignoring those who are hungry, sick or naked isn’t precisely what Christ himself had in mind. Such complete disregard for one’s fellow man leads to the kind of religion that includes drinking poisoned Kool-Aid and lying down in bed to die with a purple sheet over your head so that the comet-cloaked “mother ship” can come and pick up your ‘enlightened’ soul.

If the Evangelicals are actually on to something, I suggest monitoring a very different set of indicators. When they sell all of their Halliburton stock, take their SUVs to the scrap yard and stand out in the street looking up with hands outstretched, I’ll consider preparing for the end of time. Even so, I think I’ll pass on the Kool-Aid.

Kenya Diary - Epilogue

2006-07-05T16:31:00.001-05:00

Photo: A lone antelope silhouetted against the sunset. Masai Mara National Reserve, Kenya (June 23, 2006)

Epilogue: July 5, 2006

The shock of returning to the West seems to me almost as severe as was the entry to the Third World. Everywhere, things are brightly lit, clean, and predictable. It struck me when I arrived at London Heathrow and walked into Terminal 3 – the duty-free shops, Harrod’s, Gucci, etc. It was overwhelming consumerism pretty much in my face. This was exacerbated by having to be there for a 7-hour layover. I don’t know how many times I wandered through the various shops. I didn’t buy a thing. How can anybody pay £60 for a shirt anyway?

Even before arriving in London, from the moment I got to Kenyatta Airport in Nairobi, I have been having a difficult time with the behavior of Americans. Now, I know that this is a broad generalization, but I was incredibly irritated by them. They are not only loud, but also amazingly brazen in complaining about things. It was almost nauseating to watch them congratulate themselves for taking on such adventurous travel (in the safety of a group, on a scripted tour, moving from tourist facility to tourist facility, pampered at every turn). I headed for the Kenya Airways transit lounge, which none of them seemed to have the ingenuity to find (it would mean leaving the herd), and enjoyed tea and cake for an hour while watching the World Cup – the only customer in the lounge (as the “great white explorers” sat bitching about the lack of seating near the gate and the prices in the souvenir shops).

Yesterday, I went to Wal-Mart. I didn’t buy very much (some recordable DVDs), but I was there for over an hour just wandering the aisles. I can understand how people coming from developing countries are utterly paralyzed by a place like Wal-Mart. I had the same feeling at the grocery store. How can anybody who has never experienced this decide which of seventeen brands of butter or margarine to buy? You’d simply stare at the dairy case.

I realized that one of the things most uncomfortable for me in Kenya was the relative ‘information starvation’ I experienced. With no truly easy Internet access, no news television (well, basically no television at all), and only occasionally reading the daily paper, I was very much cut off from the rest of the world. At home, I watch CNN, read various news web sites, and often read the paper, along with several weekly news magazines. This level of input simply wasn’t possible in Kenya, and I missed it quite a bit.

Of course, the opposite problem must occur for those who come to the West from developing countries: information overload. There is so much coming at them from sources they’ve never had before that it must be overwhelming attempting to filter it all and determine what is really important and what is simply background noise. We in the West are used to doing this, and we develop the ability from a very early age. To be suddenly faced with it must be a shock.

It seems that either a society emphasizes community or it emphasizes consumption. Perhaps they are inherently antagonistic ideals. The more things one has, the easier it is to be distracted from maintaining relationships with family and friends. In the West, we have lost a sense of community. Of course there are various types of communities in the West, but the sense of bond that I observed among students at Tangaza College, and among people at Flora Hostel, was far deeper and more genuine than most of the social interactions I’ve known. There is also a much more vibrant intellectual life among the students at Tangaza. They have very few amusements – certainly when compared to American college students – and they embrace discussion and debate with a relish that any professor would be blessed to have in the classroom.

Lest the reader think that Kenya is an idyllic paradise, however, life is difficult for these people. Students are engaged, in some respects, because Tangaza is a haven away from their difficult living conditions and the general grind of life in Nairobi. It is not surprising that they should want to go there and participate fully in the academic process. And, yet, even with advanced degrees, the employment situation is bleak in Kenya. It is difficult to find a position with a solid salary. I suppose that is also why the students are motivated to become educated and to understand their situation: they wish to change it.

I am left wondering how such a beautiful country with such clever, warm, and hopeful people should be in such a state. Perhaps it is too early to despair. It was only in 2002 that a truly free election took place and the press was liberated. It will take some time to sort out how to govern a free society, which is certainly not a very tidy business. The United States has illustrated this last point time and time again. But I also have hope that the young Kenyans I met will succeed in building a stronger, fairer, and more prosperous nation. They are people of integrity and have a genuine desire to move beyond the tribal jealousies of past generations, and to stop blaming the legacy of colonialism for all of the nation’s ills. They will, I know, make a difference.

I have certainly not changed Kenya by being there, but I know that Kenya has changed me. Perhaps this is the most important effect of the Maryknoll Institute. I don’t think people attend the Maryknoll Institute for African Studies expecting to be fundamentally changed (does anybody do anything expecting to be fundamentally changed?), but this is an inescapable outcome if one engages the culture as the program intends. A part of your mind becomes, in effect, African. You become conversant with the cultural norms of the other culture, and you see through that lens, without attempting to filter through your native cultural context. That is an amazing feat for three weeks, and it does come with a certain degree of stress and requires a good deal of effort. But, ultimately, you learn an entirely different way of being human. How can one underestimate the value of that?

For more information on the Maryknoll Institute of African Studies of Saint Mary’s University, please see:

http://www.mias.edu/

Kenya Diary - Part Six

2006-06-27T01:46:00.000-05:00

Photo: At Queen's Cave, Aberdare National Park (with waterfall in background).

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

This morning I printed out the “final” version of my paper to hand in tomorrow. However, I did not anticipate just how wonderful the interview this afternoon would be. I met with Dr. Arthur Kemoli of the University of Nairobi, a professor of literature and prominent Kenyan composer of choral music. He worsening vision keeps him at home for the most part these days, so I visited him there. After spending almost two hours with him and his wife, I felt compelled to include some of his views and two direct quotes in the paper. I guess I’ll just have to get in printed in the morning at Tangaza.

Dr. Kemoli has been writing music since his early twenties, and has produced many works for the church and that choirs have sung in competition. He also founded the Kariokor choir, which has toured in Kenya and overseas. He has used his experience of English church music with respect to the application of compositional craft in a Western sense to indigenous African materials. This began when he was Assistant Choirmaster of All Saints Cathedral under Graham Hyslop in the 1960s. After finishing at the University of Nairobi in 1970 with B.A. in English Literature with First Class honors, he received a scholarship to study at Kings College, Cambridge (M.A., 1971), where he sang in the choir under the iconic choirmaster, Sir David Willcocks. He simultaneously began a B.Mus. degree at Durham University, but abandoned this after the first part to concentrate on a Ph.D. from Sussex University in literature.

In 1968, Dr. Kemoli started the University of Nairobi Choir, which he has continued to lead since his return as a member of the faculty in 1974 (literature). His interests in music and literature continued in parallel, and he sensed a need to present music of African origins to that and other choirs. At this time he felt that it was a “waste of time to try to teach African rhythm to Europeans.” Also, there was a movement at the university to begin to discuss and preserve oral literature of African traditions, and this is closely tied to traditional music. There had been, at one time, discussion of the formation of Department of Performing Arts at Nairobi University, but Kemoli says they are “still dreaming.”

The origins of a Kenyan art music may be traced, Kemoli claims, to the efforts of Graham Hyslop at All Saints Cathedral. At first, Hyslop extracted the series of pitches from traditional melodies and used these for melodic material for settings such as “Out of the Deep.” The melody was actually sung to Hyslop by The Rt. Rev. Festus Olang’, the first Anglican Archbishop from Africa, but by divorcing the tune from the rhythmic elements, the original form of the tune is lost. Kemoli says that Hyslop also “missed the point” in other settings that did this as well, such as his Magnificat and Nunc dimittis.

Later, Hyslop began to employ both the rhythms and melodic content of African music, resulting in pieces such as his “Alleluya,” which is based on a Turkana “orobo” (a children’s song). This, according to Kemoli, “showed the way.” The “Alleluya” was published by Oxford University Press.

This was followed by other effective settings, such as “The Angel and the Shepherds.” Hyslop discovered that the rhythm was an absolutely essential element of African musical identity. These works could also be used freely as concert repertoire, and they set very high standards for church music.

The question of whether or not the composer should make all music “accessible” to congregations for participation prompted Kemoli to ask, “How much do you cater to the congregation, and how much do you commune with your God as a composer?” Dr. Kemoli is, it must be said, somewhat prone to stating things grandly. For example, in a copy of an academic paper he gave me is the statement:

“…the composer should leave [the masses] behind, venture into the spiritual realm and return with ‘the message’ which is then conveyed through written music.”

This is a lofty vision, to be sure, but Kemoli expresses some frustration with the relative stagnation of church music in Kenya, believing that great creativity is not being tapped or desired by congregations. He asserts that Western compositional technique and training has much to contribute in an authentic African context. This prompted the statement:

“People should aspire to great creativity and be inspired by other cultures. You don’t descend to mediocrity just because you are an African.”

I thought this statement was especially relevant, and one could delete “African” and insert any identity, ethnic group or nationality and equally embrace the sentiment. The point is that always looking inward for an “authentic” expression of identity cuts one off from the exchange of ideas between cultures and traditions – a necessary cross-pollination to maintain creative energy.

Dr. Kemoli, in fact, gave me two documents that were the lecture notes for presentations given in 2001 and 2002 to the First and Second (respectively) Kenya National Symposia on Music at Egerton University. Since they are not journal articles, they will require some adaptation, but I have his leave to edit as necessary to see if these might be submitted to the Choral Journal. There is a reasonable amount of work necessary to frame these in context for an American publication, so I believe a co-authoring credit may be in order if I can get these into shape.

After a truly wonderful afternoon, Maurice and I headed back to town, and I met Charles for “tea” at the Fairview to assist in celebrating the completion of his paper. At about 6:20 p.m. I walked back up the hill to Flora, had dinner, and dove into the revisions of my own paper, including Kemoli’s material. I believe the paper is stronger for having sought and included his views.

I am now preparing to watch World Cup soccer tonight – England is playing Sweden. They didn’t look all that wonderful in their last match (in spite of winning vs. Trinidad & Tobago), so we’ll see how they do tonight. The soccer (“football” I should say) matches have become rather a social event here at Flora Hostel, with people crowding into the few TV lounges in various wings to watch. It is really an amazing thing to see, and a pity that soccer has not become as popular in the United States. I suppose this is just another way that the US manages to ignore the rest of the world. We really must stop doing that…

(9:12 p.m.)

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Today was the wrap-up day of the MIAS course, and it was a very satisfying day. After our morning general session and the final class with Dr. Waruta, I was called upon to play one of my least favorite incarnations of the “ugly American” in a skit. In this instance, I played the role of a fundamentalist, charismatic preacher who berated a congregation of Africans for consulting their traditional healers, insisting that the Bible was all they needed, that it was the literally word of God, and that they’d burn in hell if they kept going to their “witch doctors.” I felt like taking a shower after the performance (how can people actually think like that???).

Following the skit (I will probably not be winning any acting awards), I was invited to join the final faculty meeting of the session, which was a nice gesture on the part of Fr. Kirwen. This gave me a chance to meet the other lecturers (except for Prof. Oyugi, who had to fly to Paris for a meeting of some sort, and had left early). I did appreciate being included in this, but I also understood why including me before the last day would not have been appropriate, as I was still in the role of student in the course. I guess I “graduated” today in a way, returning from ‘faculty exile.’

Tomorrow will be a very early morning, as the taxi is coming for me at about 6:20 a.m. Charles, Sr. Mary Sebastian (who was in my class) and I are sharing a taxi to Tangaza, where we are to arrive by 7:00 a.m. for the trip to the Aberdares National Park. I’ve been told to expect some chilly weather, so I’m bringing my windbreaker, but to be honest, Kenyans have an odd notion of “chilly.” I think Minnesota in the winter would be pretty shocking to them!

From here on until I head home, I’m more or less in the role of a tourist, but I am grateful for the MIAS program, because I will not look at things with a tourist’s eyes from “within the bubble.” Having had to engage the culture on its own terms, I can readily see that the western-style hotels and conveniences are, in many respects, artificialities in the Kenyan landscape. These do not say anything about the average person trying to make a living here. I would guess that most people who come here to “see Kenya” see only the Disneyland version of passion fruit juice and luxury safaris. That is not where the people live, or at least not the vast majority of them.

The truth is that Kenyans themselves are very kind, generous, welcoming and resourceful people. Sadly, they have had to be clever to survive the neglect that their government has offered them for so long. There is an educated, mostly trilingual, workforce here, and foreign investments could produce a significant industrial and commercial infrastructure, but there are a number of considerable impediments. Foremost, the tendency of government officials to line their own pockets with money from various projects meant to improve the country is extreme. The Kibaki government has not seen fit to clamp down on this, probably because so many officials of the government itself would be implicated.

So, instead of improving roads, airstrips, Internet connectivity and the telephone system, things are more or less in a precarious state all the time as funds bleed away. If (and that is a big “if”) stability and integrity could be brought to the government’s use of its resources, and if improvements could be seen, I believe that Kenya would be an extremely attractive place for commercial growth – particularly for companies from the English-speaking world.

There has been some attempt to attract foreign capital by adopting a laissez-faire capitalist approach. This has produced a number of disasters, including the choking off of a true public bus system in Nairobi (“Citi Hoppa” is a private company, much more concerned with packing people in like sardines and charging high prices at peak times than providing a public service). Also of note is the failure of the supermarket giant Uchumi corporation, which left thousands without jobs – some after 20 years of employment – and no severance pay or benefits. This is a bit like the Enron meltdown, but imagine it in the context of a society with essentially no social security net of any kind. Even the weak and under-funded US Social Security system is bliss compared to the situation here.

“Pure capitalism” is a phase that the West went through and ultimately rejected. It must be tempered with some regulation and oversight. Honestly, a little socialism would probably be very helpful in Kenya, at least with respect to bringing the most good to the greatest number of people. I’m not advocating for a communist dictatorship or anything of the sort, but it would seem that the problems of poor Kenyans cannot simply wait while the markets sort themselves out. I know that some of my libertarian friends will object to my notion of social engineering in this respect, but there really is no other way to at least set Kenya on a path of marginally improving living conditions for all its citizens. A balance will have to be found, of course, to avoid making investment in Kenya onerous due to an untenable tax burden and excessive regulation, but right now it is the Wild West, and the average Kenyan definitely does not have a six-gun.

(6:14 p.m.)

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Today a group of about 15 of us from the Maryknoll program plus Kennedy, the Administrative Assistant, took a day trip to the Aberdare National Park. The mountain range, named after a president of the Royal Geographical Society (ignoring, of course, what the local people called it) was “discovered” by Scottish explorer Joseph Thomson, who must have been sucking up to Lord Aberdare. The Kikuyu, however, who had farmed the slopes of these mountains for centuries, called them Nyandarua, which means ‘the drying hide,’ a reference to their shape.

Although elephants and many species of antelope inhabit the park, we only saw a few antelope specimens (bushbucks and waterbucks), and a few seeming flightless hens known as sparfowl. The real attraction, however, was the natural beauty of the mountain ranges and several spectacular waterfalls. We entered the park through the Mutubio Gate, coming from the direction of Naivasha, on the floor of the Great Rift Valley (famous for its lake, which is inhabited by thousands of flamingos), following a very steep and winding climb into the mountain range. We first went into the park and turned northward, stopping at Chania Falls. A newly-constructed viewing platform afforded some excellent photographs, but most people went all the way to the bottom of the steep path to the pool where the water crashes down and forms a constant spray. The lush tropical vegetation seems to do very well with this constant supply of mist, even at the altitude of 10,000 feet.

We doubled back and stopped at Magura Falls, which is also delightful, but made all the more interesting for the large, semi-circular cave that is carved out behind the falling water. It is easily accessible and quite possible to take photographs through the falling water from inside the cave, which a number of the group did (see the photo for this blog entry). The climb down (and back up) was not as arduous as the one for Chania Falls, but at 10,000 feet, a little hiking goes a long way, and most of us were feeling it when we got back to the minivans.

The next, and most breathtaking stop, was the Karuru Falls, (275 m), in three steps. We made our way to a large observation platform where we unpacked and ate our picnic lunch of sandwiches, soda, and bananas. This is one of those spots that is a bit difficult for people who have problems with heights (like Maurice), as the platform itself is perched on the edge of what must be at least a 300-foot drop. One can see two other waterfalls across the vast expanse of the valley here, including Gura Falls, the highest in Kenya (300 m in a single plunge). These falls are quite distant, and from the vantage of our viewing platform, they were obstructed a bit by trees, but could easily be seen.

Unfortunately, hiking more freely isn’t possible in the park unless you take a park ranger (complete with rifle) with you – a sensible precaution considering the potential dangers of the wildlife. Only the short trails from the roads to the waterfall viewing areas were approved for our use without escort. We did, however, see a white woman hiking, accompanied by two rangers and another man. One ranger had a large caliber rifle (looked like a .303 or 30-06), and the other had the ubiquitous AK-47 (not sure what game is hunted with that…). She was, we learned, bird watching. You have to be a hard core birdwatcher to be willing to do it where you require armed bodyguards.

After the picnic, we headed back to the minivans. These were not just simple Toyota minivans, but had been modified with roofs that popped up into canopies that allowed the vehicle’s occupants to stand up and photograph the surroundings while still being shielded from the sun – very nice. Also, the two vehicles in our party were in radio contact, which was certainly helpful. The tour company, Safari Seekers, obviously knows what it is doing, which is reassuring since I’m going off to Masai Mara with the same firm for three nights beginning tomorrow.

At about 2:30 p.m. we began the drive back to Nairobi. There was clearly strong interest in seeing the World Cup match that began at 5:00 p.m. (Ghana vs. USA), but because of traffic and stopping to let people off at various places, I suspect that most did not get back until the half. By the way, Ghana beat the US 2-1 (though I think some of the calls of the referees were rather suspect).

At any rate, after weeding out bad shots, I took a total of some 70 photographs today. I’m presently charging batteries to supply my camera for the Masai Mara excursion. We should see considerably more animals there, as there is no dense forest for cover. Masai Mara is essentially what people from the West imagine when they think of Africa – open plains dotted with trees, great herds of various antelope species, lions, cheetahs, and, of course, elephants.

I’m beginning to feel increasingly like it will be good to be home in the US. I’ve enjoyed this trip immensely, and have learned a great deal, but there is a stress associated with being out of one’s normal environment (unless, of course, you stay somewhere long enough for the new place to become ‘normal’). After a month of new discoveries, my psyche could do with just a bit of predictability.

OK – time to pack and get bags ready for storage (I’m only taking my backpack to Masai Mara). Thankfully, I don’t have to be up nearly as early as this morning, as the Safari Seekers folks are coming between 9:00 and 9:30 a.m. I might even slip in a quick e-mail check after breakfast at the ACK Cybercafe if I’m feeling ambitious.

(8:14 p.m.)

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Masai Mara was a marvelous experience overall. I wish, however, that I had been mentally prepared for camping. I was not sure about the actual level of facilities, as there is a range of accommodations. In fact, some of the more expensive lodges have “tents,” which is to say that the walls are canvas, but there are all the modern luxuries, including full bathrooms, electricity, etc. Basically, it is a luxury hotel with canvas walls (to give that sense of ‘adventure’ without any actual discomfort). This, however, was not where I stayed.

The type of accommodation we had was a “budget campsite.” This is not to say that we were uncomfortable. Safari Seekers, the company we used, maintains a campsite outside the Sekenani Gate, which is the easiest to reach coming from Nairobi (though, given the atrocious state of the roads, what should be a 3-hour drive takes nearly six). There are about 10 tents, all pitched on concrete slabs with canopies over the actual tents. Inside the very sturdy canvas tents are two bunks – metal frames with mattresses, a step up from a cot. There are western-style toilets in a shed at one end of the campsite (though, these are at the cleanliness level one would expect from being out in the wilderness), and also two shower stalls. You can have a hot shower, but one of the local Maasai guards working at the camp has to activate the “hot water heater.” This is a 55-gallon metal drum with piping attached propped up on stone blocks, under which a fire is built when one is planning to shower. Obviously, this requires some lead time.

The only true inconvenience was that I did not have a bath towel. I always, as a result of previous bad experiences, pack a washcloth and hand towel, so I had those, and it is possible to dry one’s entire body with a hand towel (though this requires a bit of practice). So, I was able to handle the situation reasonably well. Even so, I considered switching to the Sarova Mara Lodge for the last of the three nights, but at $155 per night for a single, I figured I could sleep in a tent again. Safari Seekers charged us US $330 for three nights, including all transportation (from/to Nairobi and within the park) and full board. On top of this, we paid 3 days’ park fees at $30 per day, plus about KSh 4,000 in tips to the driver, cooks and camp guard. So, for two people, the cost for 3 nights camping was a total of under $450 – not bad for an all-inclusive experience, including an experienced guide to drive us in the park and assist us in spotting wildlife.

The drive out was interesting as we passed through the Great Rift Valley. There are many interesting volcanic features, including craters and the cones of extinct volcanoes. There are, apparently, some 30 active or semi-active volcanoes in the Rift, which makes sense since the area is pulling apart through tectonic activity at the rate of some 2 cm per year. This is also an area where Kenya is blessed with the opportunity to produce abundant geothermal power, but only a few efforts have been made in this regard, which is a missed opportunity (among so many in Kenya). One of the oddest sights as one passes along the floor of the Rift Valley on the road to Narok is a satellite telecommunications station on the valley floor with two enormous satellite dishes. The view of this in the background with Maasai herding cattle and scrubby, semi-desert terrain is surreal.

Between the village of Nitulele and the town of Narok (the last town of any size before Masai Mara – 2 hours out), the road goes from bad to unimaginably horrible. The pavement has decayed to such a point that in some places, the strip of tarmac has shrunk to a ribbon too thin for any vehicle to fit on it. Dirt tracks on either side with large rocks and potholes are the only recourse. There are also sections wide enough for a vehicle, but so pocked with potholes that driving on the side in the dirt is still a better option. The amount of dust kicked up by vehicles is amazing, and it will cause a pretty good coughing fit if you forget to close your window as a cloud drifts by. The roads are not just physically punishing for those attempting to use them, but are also dangerous. We saw a very clear indication of this on the very stretch of road indicated above, where a large truck had overturned, blocking most of the roadway, and a Peugeot had run off the road into a deep ditch.

In spite of the exasperating sections of the drive, Masai Mara is still worth the effort. We saw most of the species for which the park is famous: Thompson’s and Grant’s gazelles, impala, wildebeest, hartebeest, topi, reedbuck, giraffe, elephant, hippopotamus, eland, African buffalo, ostrich, marabou stork, vultures, sparfowl, guinea hens, secretary birds, various other birds of prey, lions (quite a few), hyena, cheetah, and black backed jackals. The antelope were fairly plentiful, even though we had come before the immense wildebeest migration of July in which over a million animals come up from the southern Serengeti Plain in Tanzania. We were able to get surprisingly close to many of the animals, who don’t seem to pay too much attention to the tour vehicles or to humans in them. Getting out of the vehicles is, however, not a good idea (and not really allowed). The usual routine is an early morning drive (6:30 a.m. or so), a return to camp around 10 or 11 for breakfast, down time at camp, a late lunch around 3:00 p.m., and then a late afternoon drive from 4:00 to 6:30 p.m., when all visitors must leave the park. The animals are mostly dormant at midday.

We also saw some interesting animals around the camp (and also heard some at night, including a family of elephants that passed pretty close to our tent at about 4:00 a.m. the first night). There was a troop of about 20 baboons in the area, but I wasn’t able to photograph them, as they were only around at or before dawn. There was also a small clan of vervet monkeys, who seemed to do pretty well picking through the trash in the camp for leftovers. These were easier to photograph, as they were active in the morning when we were at breakfast. They could be approached to a degree, and were easily visible from the tin-roofed pavilion where our meals were served. We also saw a group of mongooses move along the edge of the clearing, and I tried to photograph them as well, but they would let out a rough, high-pitched growl to warn their fellows and hide in the brush if approached, so any photos were pretty distant. Of course, due to the presence of local Maasai, we had the occasional herd of goats or sheep wander through. One group of goats was being herded by two small boys (maybe about age 6), who kept one eye on the goats and one on us. After a while, they ignored both the goats and us for a while and played with the soccer ball they had improvised out of what looked like a stuffed stocking.

After two full days of drives in the park, plus the evening drive the night we arrived, we were ready to return to Nairobi on Monday. I would recommend this experience for anybody who does not mind camping, just as long as you are prepared for actual camping. It is astounding to see wildlife so close, and the landscape is breathtaking and unlike any other place I’d seen.

We arrived back in Nairobi yesterday (Monday) at about 2:00 p.m., which gave me time to visit the ATM, and to check e-mail (I’d been suffering from withdrawal). Oddly, my mobile phone worked in Masai Mara, so I was able to pick up messages from both Dr. Kemoli, whom I’ll be meeting later this afternoon, and Fr. Kirwen, with whom I had dinner last night. I got a cab to the Nakumatt in Karen, which was to be our meeting point. There I was able to purchase packing tape for my box of books, a red permanent marker and drawing paper to make a label, and some magazines for the plane. Nakumatt is yet another one of the oddities of Kenya. Amidst the poverty and challenges of the poorer Kenyans, these stores are brightly lit, spotlessly clean, western-style grocery and general goods stores. It is basically a Kenyan Wal-Mart of sorts, frequented by middle- and upper-class Kenyans and with a much higher concentrations of whites than anywhere else – particularly the one in the suburb of Karen, a well-to-do suburb where many whites live. I have to admit, it was really a relief to be in a grocery store that felt like one in Europe or America (even though the size of my local Wal-Mart completely dwarfs Nakumatt).

Fr. Kirwen and I had dinner at a lovely Japanese restaurant in Westlands called “Tokyo.” It was slightly odd to have Kenyans in Japanese dress serving and cooking, but the food was excellent, and the owner, who is Japanese, came out to greet us and ask how our meal was. Kirwen and I talked about many things, including how we might increase the number of Saint Mary’s students coming to Tangaza for the Maryknoll program. In all honesty, I believe that this experience is a must for any of our M.A. in Human Services students. The ability to adapt to and understand differing cultures is a critical skill in this field, as well as in any kind of ministry, and I intend to push very hard for having SMU graduate students attend the program in the future.

Today is the last day in Kenya. My flight tonight is at almost midnight, so I have the full day in Nairobi. I’m meeting Maurice at 11:00 a.m., and will visit Dr. Kemoli in the afternoon. I have to be out of the room at Flora by noon, so I’ll finish packing after a trip to ACK this morning for an e-mail check and blog update. There are so many things to reflect upon as I prepare to leave Africa, and my final blog update after returning to the US will attempt to present some of the overall thoughts and impressions, as well as the profound effect the journey has had on me.

(8:50 a.m.)

Kenya Diary - Part Five

2006-06-20T02:05:00.000-05:00

Photo: The Nairobi Skyline from across Uhuru Park, Sunday, June 18, 2006.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

After forcing myself to finish the draft of the paper, I went to bed last night at about 12:45 a.m. I was taking a bit of a gamble that my recovery from food poisoning would continue quickly even if I were to get less than optimal sleep. The gamble appears to have paid off, because I was able to turn in the draft today, and my digestive system is getting back to normal. I’ve been tired today, but on less than six hours’ sleep, I can’t be terribly surprised about that.

After classes today (and lunch), a Kenyan MP (member of parliament) came to Tangaza College to address the students in the program. Unfortunately, I did not write down his name, but he represents Kisumu Rurual district, which is apparently west of the city of Kisumu in Nyanza. He made a brief presentation, which basically boiled down to the point that the past authoritarian presidential governments (up to 2002) were bad, and that they stifled the economy by bottling up entrepreneurship. This was attended by much “power of the free market” talk, and also an insistence that large public works and infrastructure needed to be built to give unemployed people jobs and open new areas for economic development. It sounded very nice, but when he was finished, I could not decided if he was for unbridled capitalism or not, for small government (deregulation and minimal licensing and taxation) or big government (large public construction projects creating jobs). He emphasized that Kenya is in transition from authoritarian to democratic rule. “Transition” seems to be a convenient excuse for lack of visible achievement.

Following his remarks, the floor was opened for questions from the students. Those of us who are foreigners deferred to the Kenyans, who asked some fairly pointed questions (though always prefaced with some words of thanks and/or praise). His ability to evade questions was truly impressive, including giving detailed answers to about 10% of a question, or bogging down a question in fixating on the definition of a word (in this case, “ideology.” It was a fascinating exchange.

Today, Charles and I booked a 3-night safari to the Masai Mara Game Preserve on the Tanzanian border from Fri. June 23rd to Monday June 26th. We’ll go overland by private minivan (about 5 hours – nothing compared to the travel we’ve both seen) and then stay in a tent camp, which sounds rustic, but these are built to western standards with actual beds, western-style toilets, and communal showers. Food and park admission fees are included and the entire package will be about $400 per person. I’ve been planning to spend about this much, so it has worked out well.

The day before this trip, though, about 8 or 9 of us from the program will go on a one-day trip to the Aberdares National Park, north of Nairobi. This will present some tropical forest and significant elevations, habitat for different fauna, including elephants. We should see a very good contrast between this and Masai Mara.

Tomorrow is the last full day of classes at Tangaza, which is hard to believe! Fr. Kirwen has invited Charles and me, and I believe another MIAS staff member, out for a restaurant meal at a churrascaria – similar to the famous Carnivore restaurant here, but not quite the tourist trap. I am grateful that my stomach should be in good working order by then.

(11:00 p.m.)

Saturday, June 17, 2006

After Friday’s classes (the last full day of classes in the program) at Tangaza, Charles and I walked down the South Langata Road to what appeared to be a humble souvenir stand at the corner of Langata Road and South Langata Road. However, when we got inside, we discovered that it was much larger than anticipated, with carvings in stone and wood, shields, textile prints, clothing, and even some musical instruments. I was delighted to find an Orutu (two of them, actually, of differing construction). I may have to return and buy it, but at KSh 4,000 it is a bit expensive. However, this place takes credit cards (!) and even does shipping, so I am tempted to return on Wednesday. I did purchase a set of small (about 6” x 6”) textile prints of animals and a Maasai family. I bought seven (6 of animals and one of the family), for which I will get a custom mat and frame done when I return. They were a reasonable KSh 400 each. I also bought a lion and lioness (for my nephew and niece, respectively) carved from olive wood.

After an e-mail check back at Tangaza, I photographed some of the textile print artwork that is hanging in the various hallways in Imani House (the specific building of Tangaza where MIAS resides). These are vibrant in their colors and depict various scenes of African life and cultural themes. There were some as large as these at the souvenir shop I visited earlier, and I might invest in a larger one.

At 4:00 p.m., Fr. Kirwen, Charles and I left Tangaza and drove the 10 miles or so to the Ngong Hills (via Rongai and Kiserian), stopping at a little country club (so it was labeled) at Olepolos. From here there is a marvelous view of the Great Rift Valley, and I took some photographs. Kirwen said that the famous paleontologist and anthropologist, Louis Leakey, lives down in the valley not very far from this point, and had been, in fact, a Member of Parliament for the area, which includes the location of Tangaza College.

We came back to the vicinity of Tangaza through the town of Ngong and visited Fr. Kirwen’s home. It is a converted stable, which makes is sound terribly rustic. It is anything but that! The rather extensive apartment has a lovely sitting room, ample kitchen, full bath (with the first tub I’ve seen in Kenya thus far), a small washing machine (also a first on this trip), and a beautiful patio and series of narrow gardens of native plants winding back away from the patio. As other tenants left in adjacent apartments, Kirwen gradually took over a rather extensive adjoining space, making several more bedrooms and office space. Before the building of the present home of MIAS, much of the program was run out of this space, including a library of 6,000 books! He even has a small Yamaha spinet piano, which he plays quite well.

A man working for Fr. Kirwen, introduced to us as Michael, had prepared some very tasty snacks, and we sat on the patio eating these and enjoying drinks for a while. We moved inside when the mosquitoes became too annoying, and Kirwen called the restaurant we were to visit. Soon thereafter, we were off in his little 80s vintage Peugeot.

The restaurant was a Brazilian-style Churrascaria in a very fine hotel on the way out to Kenyatta Airport. Walking into the extensive commercial building was a very odd experience, almost like entering a deserted mall in the United States. On the first floor (what we Americans would call the second floor), we exited the elevator and walked by an appliance store, and a shop with lingerie in the windows (both closed, but surprises nonetheless), arriving at Pampa Churrascaria.

As we entered, I noted that it seemed a bit odd for Kenyans to be dressed as Gauchos (complete with the pants). World Cup soccer was, of course, playing on a very large projection television at one end of the dining hall. There was an extensive salad bar with soups. The basic idea of a churrascaria is that you hit the salad bar, and then after that you have a little card (green on one side, orange on the other) that you use to indicate whether or not you would like meat. Servers continually circulate with various cuts of meat on skewers. If one has something you’d like, you indicate “yes” and it is sliced at your table – you pick up the slices with a pair of tongs provided at your place setting.

This is an excellent way of sampling many different cuts of meat. In spite of my recent gastric disturbances, I managed to eat a pretty large meal, and tried a variety of meats. Most of the cuts were of beef, but even some of these were exotic (beef “hump,” for example, is that fatty thing above the shoulder on the back of some breeds of cow). I had several cuts of beef (including the hump, which I would not recommend all that highly), lamb leg, goat, ostrich, pork loin, and camel. I thought all were good, except for beef hump, as already mentioned, and camel (which was, to be honest, pretty nasty).

When you are through eating meat (Kirwen ate both me and Charles under the table), you are served roasted pineapple dusted with cinnamon – served the same way as the meat, carved off in slices from a skewer at your table. Accompanying the meal was draft Tusker beer, which is even better than the bottled variety. This was, by far, the biggest meal I had eaten in well over a month, and it came on the heels of eating relatively little for some days, so I was a bit concerned about how my system would react, but as of late Saturday morning, all seems to be well.

Kirwen drove Charles back to the ACK Guesthouse and me back to Flora, where I got in the gate at about 10:20 p.m., extremely tired, but having enjoyed the evening immensely. It seemed to me that it was the most fun Fr. Kirwen had had in some time as well. He is delightful company, and can spin so many stories from his 44 years of experience in Africa that you are held spellbound. It is also wonderful to watch him interact with Kenyans, particularly those who are of the Luo community. Having spent 25 years in Luo land as a missionary, he is fluent in the tongue, and this inevitably surprises those with whom he speaks.

Today, after sleeping late, I am diving into revisions on my paper. These are not extensive, but it must also be said that there are a few more interviews that will have to be added to the research summary in the coming days, and these may require some additional small changes. The research summary itself has to be typed up, but I now have exemplars of other MIAS papers to consult, and this should not be a difficult or terribly time-consuming task. Generally, Dr. Waruta seemed very pleased with the paper, stating that it held “excellent insights.” His only wish was that it made somewhat bolder recommendations for the future. These will be easy enough to include, and were withheld on the basis of academic restraint. It would seem that Waruta considers academic restraint a bit overrated.

(11:48 a.m.)

Monday, June 19, 2006

After doing some revisions on the paper and updating the field research summary on Saturday, I did not accomplish very much else, except managing to get on the Internet for a while at the Nairobi Youth Hostel. This actually took two trips, as on the first visit I discovered that they were experiencing the same power outage that affected Flora, which lasted about an hour in all. When the lights came back on at Flora, I went back and was the first to arrive there. The connection was actually reasonably good, and I was able to send another picture home.

On Sunday morning, I decided to attend the 11:00 a.m. Mass in English at Flora, in the little chapel they have in the compound. I was expecting a somewhat more subdued, European approach to the Mass, but what I observed was, in fact, that all of the music was sung in Kiswahili, with an approach similar to that observed at Holy Family Basilica and the Cathedral in Homa Bay. The readings, announcements, and homily were in English, but not one musical selection. Drums and shakers accompanied the choir, and there was hand clapping with much of the music.

It was difficult to tell if there was an actual ‘choir,’ as there is no place for one to sit apart from the congregation, but in the first few pews on one side sat the song leaders, the choirmaster/cantor and those playing percussion. There was four-part harmony in the room, but it was not clear if this was due to the presence of an ‘official’ four-part choir, or whether sufficient members of the congregation knew parts to the various songs to produce the effect. Whatever the case, it was very effective.

I attempted to sing along as much as possible. There were hymn books with only the words printed, so after a repeat or two of a refrain I was usually able to join. The lack of notated music was a frustration to my trained, western musician’s perspective, but the cost of reproducing the notation in a context where almost nobody in the congregation could read it makes little sense.

The congregation was virtually all African – I saw perhaps three Europeans, including one of the Consolata Sisters who did the Old Testament reading. The surprisingly young priest presented a very interesting sermon for the feast of Corpus Christi today, connecting the Eucharist, the Passover meal, and the place of eating and its implication of community in African culture. He also focused on the question, “Do we live to eat, or eat to live?”

Looking in a place where I would expect to find stronger European elements in Catholic worship, I have still found that there is a clear sense of African ‘ownership’ of the liturgical music.

In the afternoon, I attended a concert of the Nairobi Music Society (Ken Wakia, director) and Nairobi Orchestra. The program began with the Vivialdi Concerto for Two Violins in A Minor (Op. 3, No. 8), featuring two violinists that had been imported with assistance from the Austrian Embassy. The soloists were quite remarkable, although the orchestra itself had a few intonation problems (notably the double bass). This was followed by two short choral pieces accompanied by piano and French horn, and then the violinists returned for a selection from Charles de Beriot’s Duo Concertante (Op. 57, No. 3), which was also played brilliantly.

After a short intermission, the combined orchestra and choir presented two complete Chandos Anthems of Handel (Nos. 7 and 11). The Chandos Anthems are odd little cantata-like works, very Italianate in their conception, and among the earliest extended works of Handel setting the English language (written for the Duke of Chandos, for whom they were named, in 1717-18). After nearly 300 years, this was their premiere in Nairobi.

Handel’s inexperience with English is apparent in some of the odd syllabifications and text underlay, but there are certainly some good moments. The anthems were clearly a challenge for the choir, but overall it was a credible performance, and was clearly appreciated by the audience. Of particular merit were the tenor and alto soloists.

The audience was at least half white (it was one of those events that, as a white person in Nairobi, I found myself asking, “where have they all been hiding?”), and there were also some Indians and Asians, with Africans probably accounting for 30% in all. Part of the issue, to be sure, was the ticket price of KSh 400 (about $5), which is rather expensive for the average Kenyan. This, for example, would be approximately the cost of a long-range bus ticket to a place like Kisumu or Mombassa.

After the performance, I bought dinner for Ken and Maurice, who also attended, and we had a very interesting discussion about the emergence of a Kenyan ‘art music,’ and whether or not such a thing would be relevant for liturgical music in the Catholic Church here (the opinion was that it would not be relevant). Ken also approached me about the possibility of returning to Nairobi to guest conduct the Music Society in a future concert, and I told him that I’d be delighted if the details could be arranged. Funding, of course, is always an issue in such matters, as organizations such as NMS definitely do not have deep pockets.

Today (Monday), I headed into town on foot at about 8:20 a.m. (my first solo venture into central Nairobi on a weekday), and spent about an hour trying to find the office of Safari Seekers to place a deposit on the safari Charles and I will be taking beginning on Friday this week. Fr. Kirwen had given me directions to one part of the city, and there was nothing resembling it there. I asked at a shop for a current telephone directory, and found a listing on Kaunda Street, not very far from the Catholic Bookshop next to the Basilica (my eventual destination), so I then headed that way and scoured the street until I found the correct building.

On the 5th floor (not easy to reach, since the entry door that includes access to the stairs isn’t marked in any way), I searched in vain for the correct office. I then simply entered a travel office, and they said that Safari Seekers had moved. My confidence was not exactly building by this point.

Fortunately, I had a mobile number (none of the land lines from the directory were being answered), and the proprietor’s wife answered and told me that he would call back. She hung up before I could give her my number, but fortunately, the number seemed to have been captured, because Zul, the proprietor, returned the call a moment later. He apologized for the confusion, and said that it would be fine to pay the morning of our departure, but that half would need to be in cash to take care of park fees and other out-of-pocket expenses along the way. I said no problem and added an ATM stop to my errands for later in the day.

Browsing at the Catholic Bookshop, I found a number of interesting things, including one of the music editions of hymns in Kiswahili commonly used here. This will be a helpful resource. I also picked up two books that will be of value in my paper, and one entitled The Risk of Education by Luigi Giussani (translated only recently from the Italian) that appeared interesting, and which may prove relevant for my Oxford presentation. The greatest treasure from the bookshop, however, was a sturdy cardboard box! I asked if they might have some empty in the back (learning that one needs to use the word “carton,” not “box”), and they gave me one used for shipping bibles. It is perhaps 9” x 8” x 14” and accommodates the collection of books I have amassed here, including the new purchases. I believe that it will be best to simply check it as another piece of baggage rather than pay the hefty shipping charge to air mail it back to the U.S.

After stopping at the ACK for an e-mail check, I went to the NSSF building to hit the ATM, and the guard, predictably, wanted to see what was in my box. Since she had a rather tough-looking uniform and a metal-detecting wand (and since she outweighed me easily by some 50 lbs.), I was happy to let her inspect the books in it. And, as you would probably expect, when I passed by the soldiers in front of the Israeli Embassy, they wanted a look in the box as well. THEY had AK-47s, so there wasn’t much question about letting them check the contents of the box. I expected this, of course, so I wasn’t terribly troubled by it.

In the afternoon, Brother Geru Andu, a student De La Salle brother studying at Tangaza, came to Flora and took me to a place not far away, in the Hurlingham area of Nairobi, where he treated me to some authentic Eritrean food (which overlaps Ethiopian cuisine considerably). It was very tasty, and for the first time since I’ve been in Africa, I was able to eat a really spicy dish (a roasted, diced lamb dish made with a hot red curry). This was served on ingera, a very light type of spongy rice bread that is made with yeast and which is soft and easy to tear off. The method of eating is that you tear small pieces of this and use them to pick up the bits of meat, all people eating from the same central plate. We also had a second dish, which was a bit like fajitas, except that the pottery serving dish has a small compartment at the bottom for hot coals to continually heat the food on top. This was also served with ingera, and to drink we had a thick concoction of mango, papaya and avocado juices.

The most interesting part, however, was the coffee service at the end of the meal. Traditional Ethiopian/Eritrean coffee is very thick – boiled for a long time in a pot with the grounds. The entire pot is served with cups, a bowl of sugar, and (this was a surprise), a small dish of hot coals, upon which the server places some bits of incense, taken from a small basket that comes on the tray (apparently, one can put on more incense if this isn’t sufficient – it was). The feel was vaguely Arabic in some ways, or so I imagine.

The restaurant is divided into very private little rooms (wicker and fabric dividers), in which are small tables and usually four chairs. I found the atmosphere really very intimate and extremely refined and civilized. The only shortcoming was the background music from the radio, which was tuned to a station that seemed intent on playing American music from the 1970s. It is a bit of a challenge to stay in an authentic Eritrean mood while hearing Marvin Gay sing “Sexual Healing.”

Even with the Motown distraction, it was a truly wonderful experience. Afterward, we exited the restaurant and went to a nearby shop, where I was able to buy some authentic scarves and where Geru also purchased for me as souvenirs a very nice little basket (“for sweets in your office” he said), and an interesting metal cross mounted on a patch of velvet.

We had a very good conversation that covered a wide range of topics, and I learned much about his background in music, and how his work as a lyricist particularly is something very precious to him. It is, in every way, a personal expression of his faith, and it was moving to learn of the struggles he has had to come to Kenya to study, to become a De La Salle brother, and to be away from his family for the past six years. In fact, he cannot go home to visit, because there is presently a presidential order that will not allow anybody under the age of 40 to leave the country! So, if he goes back, he will stay there permanently. He faces the difficult decision in May 2007, when he completes the Bachelor’s degree, whether or not to return to Eritrea permanently. It is something that he prays about each day.

I returned to Flora at about 5:00 p.m., and left again almost immediately to meet Charles for “tea” at the Fairview Hotel. “Tea” has become our euphemism for any drinks, and these involve alcohol more often than not lately. My “tea” today was a double Absolut vodka and tonic, for example. The main reason for the brief meeting, however, was so that I could get the iBook computer back from him, which I’d let him borrow since yesterday afternoon. It seems to have been very valuable for his writing of the research paper, which we are both planning to finish tomorrow (he’ll be back in the ACK Cybercafe more or less all day).

Tomorrow I have an interview with Dr. Arthur Kemoli of Nairobi University at 3:00 p.m. – my last official research meeting. Maurice will meet me here at Flora at 2:00 p.m. and we’ll take a taxi, as I’m not sure of bus routing. It isn’t terribly far from here. Tomorrow night, I’ll finish my research report, and get any other things ready to turn in on Wednesday – the final day of the program. It is difficult to believe!

(8:54 p.m.)

Kenya Diary - Part Four

2006-06-15T09:20:00.000-05:00

Thursday, June 8, 2006

Classes proceeded normally today, except for a section entitled “Pastoral Reflection” at the end of the day. The title was somewhat misleading, but the activity itself was quite informative. Two of the course sections were charged with giving short skits illustrating problems in Kenyan society today.

The first presented a couple with a new baby in a hospital. First, some younger friends come to visit, and are told that the baby has been named “Alexander.” They compliment the name, wish the couple well and depart after a time. Next, the grandparents and another elder visit and are very upset that they were not consulted about the name, which should be taken from their lineage after consideration and an opportunity for the Ancestors to make known which name the child should have. Ultimately, they insist that the child’s name must be changed, and they depart. The couple is then left with a difficult problem, as the child has already been given the name Alexander in official records, and the father prefers that name.

Naming patterns are extremely important in traditional African societies, for it is by the means of naming that Ancestors are able to continue their existence (nominal reincarnation). In East Africa, most have been also given European Christian names at the time of their baptism, generally with the instruction that they must take the name of a saint when they are baptized (and in extreme cases, baptism may be withheld until they agree). For some generations now, these names have been added to the traditional practices, so that there are Western Christian names represented in multiple generations of a lineage, but there is definitely controversy as to whether or not these Western names should be dropped in a return to purely African practice. Conversely, some Africans still wish to identify with the West with respect to perceptions of wealth and material success, and choose to abandon their traditional names, often to the great frustration and sorrow of their families. While no real consensus was reached on the question of which is the superior path, it was generally agreed that both systems could work together, with Western names grafted on to traditional naming formulas, but that individuals should be able to decide what is best for their situation.

The second skit presented the issue of land rights, which is an extremely sensitive subject. The British Colonial Administration in Kenya moved peoples off ancestral land, appropriated vast tracts, and devoted many areas to the growing of cash crops. When the British left, in many cases, large estates were simply turned over to the leaders of the independence movement, who never returned or redistributed it. Thus, there is the perception that the Kenyan government leaders are no better than the Colonial Administration, and are, in fact, simply operating on the same principles.

Specifically, the skit presented a rich British man (title and all) coming into a tribal chief’s office and offering a large sum of money for a tract of land (one that he wished to fence off for a private ranch, saying “… and I don’t want the natives running around on my property”). The chief was very compliant, but said that he had to talk to the tribal elders, and that some more money would help to “mobilize” them. When a price was agreed, the chief went to the elders, presented the land deal in the most positive light. On a split vote the elders decided against the sale.

Immediately, the chief informed the British aristocrat that the sale was approved, and that he should meet with the elders. Only those who agreed with the sale came to the meeting, and while the deal was being finalized, the other elders angrily burst into the chief’s office (end of skit).

The matter of land rights is thorny, to say the least. In Kenya, at least some of the land is held as communal land for the Maasai, but in other areas, especially Central Province where the British carved up much of the territory, historical wrongs continue to go unaddressed, with very large tracts of land owned by somebody (usually a crony of a powerful politician), but not under cultivation and cut off from use by those who had occupied it ancestrally.

Land tenure is a powder keg in Kenya. Eventually, somebody will light the fuse, and if this happens, it will be a serious, and probably bloody, mess. The government should, if for no other reason than its own self-preservation, begin the process of dealing with the issue immediately in a manner that avoids favoritism toward certain ethnic groups (e.g. Kikuyu, Kalenjin) over others who have been marginalized (e.g., Luo). Unfortunately, one of the most enduring lessons of the wazungu (white people) is that of greed and the desire for personal gain at the expense of the community.

Following the skits, we broke up into four randomly-selected groups for discussion, and then returned for designed spokespeople to give reports from the groups. The currents of the conversations in the four groups must have been remarkably similar, considering the content of the brief reports. I came away from this session earnestly wishing that the Kenyans in the MIASMU program were running the government here. Perhaps, one day, some of them will.

The conversations, especially about land rights, continued on the school bus back to town, and the ride was longer than usual owing some inexplicable traffic jams along the route, forcing the driver to take back streets (the bumps were pretty intense). There is even a sense that revolution is possible if the problem persists long enough, and the issue of food security and supply is, in some ways, tied up with the matter of land rights as well. Certainly, depriving people of food and the means to make even a subsistence living can, and has, motivated peoples to revolt in the past.

Corruption at all levels of government siphons off precious funds in an economy that cannot spare them. Indeed, if the money allocated for various projects actually went into completing them, Kenya’s infrastructure and economy would be in a far better condition. Sadly, many politicians and officials see access to government resources as a way to line their own pockets, and they have become fat feeding at this trough. Clearly, temptation will always cause some to falter, but the proportion of those skimming funds here is almost unimaginable in the West. Some of this stems from prior regimes’ use of imprisonment of political opponents, and even torture. The people have become convinced that one cannot oppose the government, but that will change if the conversations of young Kenyans I’ve heard are any indication.

Corruption and waste are also major impediments to raising funds to assist African countries. There is a pervasive view in the West that funds sent to African simply disappear into the pockets of corrupt politicians, and never arrive at their designated projects or sites. This is not entirely true, but it can easily happen if one is not careful about how money is transferred and to whom. Simply throwing money at Africa without any follow-up or accounting will actually only make the problem worse. However, providing resources for leaders who have proven their credibility and organizations who keep overhead to a minimum and devote most of their funds to actual aid activity can make a significant different in people’s lives here.

Ultimately, if the West is to help Africa, it must get to know Africa. We cannot simply remain unengaged and uninterested, occasionally sending aid to countries or donating to charities and trusting that they will “take care of it.” This will not suffice. Unless Western nations forge closer ties with African countries, hold them to account financially, and demand that oppression and violations of human rights be addressed in order to receive aid, the situation will continue. Giving money to assuage a vague sense of guilt for our affluence is both intellectually lazy and utterly pointless.

I am not suggesting that the West should lament its affluence. Indeed, guilt is a terrible motivation for doing anything, and it is a poor substitute for genuine interest and caring. Westerners have, in many respects, earned their affluence, and it has come at a price. However, with affluence comes responsibility. I am emphatically not talking about the so-called “white man’s burden.” Color, in fact, has nothing to do with it. American conservatives are fond of stating that the United States is a “Christian nation.” While this may be debated, if this is their view, then as Christians they should seek to use their resources to assist those in the international community that are less fortunate. This is not a matter of superiority (as some cultures have tried to make it), but rather it is an aspect of community. If we are to coexist on this planet in a community of nations, we must value all members of that community, and we must assist all who wish to live peacefully together to succeed.

(7:39 p.m.)

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

I have much catching up to do on this diary! First, I must relate the saga of journeying to the tiny village of Nyatuoro in the North Kadem area of South Nyanza – Maurice’s home. The trip proved more challenging than I had imagined. First, we left Flora Hostel at 5:30 p.m. on Friday evening, June 9th. We got on a matatu headed for the city center, and immediately were stuck in a traffic jam. So, we decided to get out and walk. 45 min. later, we were at the location where the “public” busses stop in central Nairobi.

A word of explanation: There are two kinds of long-range bus in Kenya. The more expensive (usually) kind, requiring advance tickets is called Akamba. These tend to go on smoother routes when possible. The other kind is simply called a “public bus” which can be of more or less any size, from 14 passengers to 60. These stop at a street corner in the eastern part of downtown that is not marked – you just have to know where it is, and they simply put out signs with their destinations. You purchase a ticket, which may vary in price according to demand, and then you go whenever the bus is full or nearly full. This latter kind was the type Maurice and I were to take.

By this time it was 6:15 p.m., and the “normal” time for departure, Maurice said, was about 7:00 p.m. However, as we waited, no busses with the destination “Karungu Bay” appeared. We saw one for Homa Bay, which was an unattractive 2nd option that would add about 3 total hours to the journey, and many for places even less helpful (especially Oyugis). Time passed, and as we walked up and down the dirt stretch of street, occasionally men would approach us to either try to sell us tickets for somewhere we didn’t want to go, or else just to ask why a white man was in this part of town after dark (I was beginning to wonder that myself). This uneasy situation continued for some time, until finally Maurice made the decision that we would go to Homa Bay if a bus arrived with that destination first. A bit before 8:30 p.m., one finally did, and we boarded (not a particularly orderly affair) and paid the much higher-than-average KSh 700 each for tickets (Maurice was convinced that this was part of a plan to jack up prices, which might well be the case).

We sat on the bus for what seemed like an eternity (probably some 35 min.) while hawkers rapped on the windows of the bus trying to sell bottled water, watches, radios, flashlights, snacks, handkerchiefs, and all manner of other small items, while yet other hawkers boarded the bus itself and squeezed themselves up and down the impossibly small aisle. After they were cleared from the bus (and this was not done hurriedly), we left the “depot” and headed into the city center.

At this point, I thought we were on our way. I was mistaken. After driving around and being caught in a traffic jam for a few minutes, the driver abruptly turned around and drove back to a service bay we had passed, and the bus had the oil changed while we were on it (well, some people got off). The air filter was also cleaned (they apparently don’t change them if they can help it, but blow compressed air through the filter making it semi-clean), and then there was some trouble starting the bus – cold oil does not help a diesel engine start. So, the bus was pushed back and then forward and the clutch popped to try to start it – about 7 times. Finally, it was running, and those outside boarded. We were on our way!

Almost. On the way out of Nairobi, we stopped again at a filling station. But, as fate would have it, it was closed, so we exited, turned back toward Nairobi, stopped at an open station, and they filled up with diesel. By now it was after 10:00 p.m. After this, we were finally headed out of Nairobi.

To say that the roads were bad would be the most ridiculous understatement. Particularly horrible was the stretch in the Great Rift Valley between Narok and Bomet. It was dark, and therefore impossible to see the road conditions, but one can only imagine. There were several occasions where the bus bounced so violently that I flew up in the air and was jerked back down by the lap belt I was (thankfully) wearing. Needless to say, there was very little opportunity to sleep. From Bomet, things got a bit better through Sotik and Kisii, over to Rongo, but the road from Rongo to Homa Bay was again quite rough.

We arrived in Homa Bay about 6:00 a.m. and hand to take a matatu from there to Karungu Bay, some 48 km to the south (where we would have gone directly had a bus been available). This took until about 7:30 a.m. (and included retracing part of the bad road to Rongo). At Karungu Bay, we stopped for a bit, bought some fresh fish (which would come to haunt me) and sugar for Maurice’s mother. I took some photographs fo the village and the beautiful bay on Lake Victoria.

From Karungu Bay, we then took a car (shared taxi on a fixed route – basically a matatu in car form) to a small crossroads called Onger (no signs), where the car turned right, but we needed to go left. At this point, the next step down in transportation available to us was the “boda boda.” These bicycle taxis got their name for making the run across the “border” from Kenya to Uganda, but are actually called “nguare” in the local language of Luo. We hired three of these (one of the bags and one for each of us) and were off.

It was about another 4 km to Nyatuoro. Of course one only rides on a “boda boda” downhill or on the level. When a significant uphill stretch is reached, the driver calls out “pole, pole” (“sorry, sorry” in Kiswahili) and you walk. We had three such “pole, pole” incidents before reaching Maurice’s tiny home village of Nyatuoro, the center of which consisted of some seven buildings and a well. There is no electricity around for kilometers, nor running water in any homes in this region.

The countryside is quite beautiful – almost entirely undeveloped. Nyanza is the poorest of the Kenyan provinces, and though it manages to elect political leaders that could wield some power and influence, for some reason they have always failed them. Life is astoundingly difficult for the people here, with most eking out a living through subsistence farming and raising of livestock. There is no industry, no infrastructure, marginal access to education, and not much hope for better prospects for the rural people. Paradoxically, there is GSM mobile phone service, but I do not know who, apart from visitors, would have phones (or a place to charge them).

Maurice’s family home, just past the main village, consists of his father’s house, what remains of his elder brother’s house (recently destroyed by fire), his house, and his younger brother’s house, plus a partially-completed workshop building, a metal machine shed that houses a presently inoperative diesel milling machine, and a small tin outhouse (squatting only). In truth, this is a fairly extensive compound in this area, on good land with an excellent view of the surrounding countryside. Maurice’s father chose a fine spot when he moved the family here from nearer the lake in Maurice’s youth. The buildings are generally wooden frame with mud plaster filling and finish, painted, with tin roofs. The tin has slowly replaced thatch as roofing for its waterproof quality, but it is inferior to thatch in repelling the heat in a climate measurably hotter than Nairobi.

Upon arrival, we rested at Maurice’s house. I was extremely tired, but greeted all the family members (father, mother, elder brother, sister, various nieces and nephews, and Maurice’s wife, Martina, who had come from the district where she teaches to meet us the day before). While resting, I was a bit alarmed by two very large black wasps flying around, but was assured that these were not dangerous (they looked dangerous to me, but I did my best to disregard them). At one point, Maurice’s older brother looked up where one of the walls met the ceiling and said something in Luo, fetched a glass of paraffin oil (used for lamps), moved a couch, and then splashed the oil at the junction of wall and roof. Immediately a thin, orangey snake fled across the top of the wall and down into another crevasse. The general agreement was that the oil would eventually kill it, so no need to chase it further. “That one is not dangerous – the black ones, THEY are dangerous.”

Upon Maurice’s arrival, there was a more or less constant procession of relatives giving him the latest news, seeking his opinion, and generally complaining about things. As the only child to be educated, and the only one attempting to find work in Nairobi, Maurice has assumed a role beyond that traditionally held by a younger son. He is expected to fix various things and make right what goes wrong in his absence – a difficult task when one has limited means, six children of his own and a wife, plus his own expenses for a modest place in Nairobi.

I interviewed Maurice’s father, Pius Opiyo, about his memory of traditional music and his experiences of music in the church, as well as the various missionaries in the region and their differing levels of tolerance of traditional forms of expression in worship. He proved a fascinating subject, and seemed eager to relate his memories and perceptions. As he does not speak English, Maurice translanted.

At 3pm, we had a late lunch of fried and boiled fish, rice, ugali and potatoes. I ate a bit of the ugali, rice and fried fish. This, I believe, was my undoing, but more about that later. In this rather traditional setting (entertaining the ‘honored guest’), the men are seated and served by the women, who do not eat with them. I found that a bit strange culturally. The food was tasty, and the only annoyance of eating outside was the congregation of animals (chickens, cats, dog, goats) constantly attempting to edge in for a scrap. The men of the family had no hesitation in smacking them quite hard with a stick if they came too close.

Following this lunch, we borrowed a car (the only one in the village) to visit a nearby archaeological site I had read about – Thimlich Ohinga. It was described as a 15th-century stone enclosure that mimics a traditional Luo homestead, but on a larger scale. The scale, actually, is vast. The main enclosure is some 300m across, with many smaller houses within it, as well as livestock pens, a forge for smelting iron, and even what is surmised to be a form of athletic playing field. I was amazed that this place was not presented as a national treasure, with a paved road providing access and a small western-style tourist hotel provided for accommodation. This single monument clearly refutes the notion that there were no builders of great buildings in Sub-Saharan African before colonization. Seriously, this thing should be on the 1,000 shilling bank note instead of Jomo Kenyatta.

That night, my stomach began to become unstable, so that by dinner time (8:30 p.m.), I was able only to eat half of a small boiled potato. I soon retired for the night in a bed (with an actual frame) they had fashioned for me in the sitting room of the house of Maurice’s younger brother (he and his wife and two children slept in the other room). Although there was no pillow, they had set out a mattress with sheets and a blanket, and had also set up a mosquito net. Given the challenges of the surroundings, it was clear that they had gone to some significant trouble to make me comfortable – including bringing a basin of warm water at bed time so that I could wash outside (complete with wooden folding chair – I had brought soap and towel). I settled in to sleep, thoroughly exhausted, setting my watch alarm for 5:00 a.m.

I awoke at 5:00 a.m. to the alarm, went outside (still quite dark with a full moon on the horizon), and shaved, washed my face, and brushed my teeth using the remainder of my bottled water. After dressing and repacking my things, I thanked Maurice’s brother for his hospitality, and he walked me back to Maurice’s house. By this time it was nearly 6:00 a.m., and the “village car” was to come at 6:15. The owner had sent his son to give us a ride to Karungu Bay in exchange for fuel money.

The ride to Karungu Bay was not bad. The matatu ride to Homa Bay was more problematic – slow, very bumpy, and before arriving, the driver abruptly stopped at a crossroads and told us all to get off! No explanation was given (perhaps his license was invalid, making a trip into town risky?). So, from there, we had to find another small matatu, and this one had its own problems, including getting stopped and cited by the police (in spite of an attempted charade of being out of fuel with the overload passengers jumping off to push). After getting into Homa Bay, it was a 3-person (carrying 5) 3-wheel taxi to the cathedral.

At the Mass in Homa Bay, I saw the same vibrancy observed in Nairobi at Holy Family Basilica. In fact, the were using the same Kiswahili Mass parts (Gloria, Sanctus, etc.). The service presented a mixture of Luo, Kiswahili, and even a bit of English in the sermon. At the offertory, a group of girls performed a dance in traditional Luo costume (skirts of long dried plant fibers, dyed purple at the ends). The Mass itself lasted nearly two hours. I was honestly amazed by the quality of the singing by the choir of about 30 (half the normal number, I was told) - strong, resonant, well-blended. Drums and other percussion (including tambourine) were incorporated, and the music was clearly connecting with the congregation most effectively. From my perspective as a foreigner, I would never have expected such wonderful sounds and such care in vocal training and fine singing in such a remote place.

Following the Mass, I interviewed the two co-choirmasters about their techniques and backgrounds, as well as their working relationship with the clergy. They revealed that only they read music, and thus teach every part to the choir by rote, working from song books. In teaching each phrase one at a time, they are able to address production issues, vowel formation, and the overall tone of each section's sound, which contributes greatly to the choir's beautiful, unified singing.

Following my interview of the choirmasters, Martina got a taxi for us, as I was feeling increasingly sick, and we went to the “Tourist Hotel” on the lake shore – an adequate place by Western standards – for refreshment. It was here that my digestive system completely rebelled, beginning with diarrhea, with vomiting soon following that – it was fortunate that I was sitting outdoors when that happened. We stayed a bit longer than intended, but I managed to get myself settled down enough to travel a bit, thinking the worst was over.

Considering my stomach, Maurice and Martina decided to keep the taxi to transport us to where she lives with the children – on the grounds of the school where she teaches, not too far from Homa Bay. We arrived there about 4:00 p.m., and I met Maurice’s children, plus those that are staying with his wife (not unusual for nieces/nephews whose parents cannot care for them, etc.). The houses at the school were similar to the ones of Maurice’s homestead – very basic accommodations. Maurice and Martina have beautiful children, and I wish that I had been feeling better and spent more time with them.

Maurice then took me to the home of the parish priest, Fr. Charles, who put me up in his guest room. This was an absolute mercy, because by that time, I was deeply in the throes of food poisoning, with fever, chills, and severe gastric disturbance. I was resting in the guest room by 4:30 p.m., and awoke about 7:00 p.m. to ask for the mosquito net that was earlier being washed. My perception of time was wildly off, and when somebody woke me to check on my in what I thought was the middle of the night, it was about 8:00 p.m. I then checked my temperature, and was disturbed to read 102.9 F. I took some naproxen sodium tablets (Aleve) and brought the fever down. I am very fortunate to have taken those with me!

There was fortunately a bathroom off the guest room, of which I made frequent use in the night. At one point, there was a very heavy thunderstorm, and I realized that the window I slept next to had no “window,” but only a metal grate and a shade, which blew in with the wind and rain fell over me. I was too exhausted to do much about it, and chose to ignore it. I woke up about every two hours, and checked my temperature, which remained controlled.

At 4:30 a.m. I got up, washed, brushed my teeth, and got dressed. I packed my bag and sat out in the living room, where Fr. Charles appeared momentarily, asking if I had been waiting long. He asked how I felt, and I said (lying) a bit better. I had just taken 3 naproxen and my remaining 2 immodium hoping to survive the trip back to Nairobi. The priest had a 4WD truck which got us out of his extremely muddy road, to the main road where Maurice was waiting about 5:50 a.m. We then went to Kendu Bay, but the bus we were to take had already left, so after taking fuel, we went on to Oyugis, where we caught the bus. The road back was not as bad (or as long) as the ride out, but the stretch between Nakuru and Naivasha is still very bad. All of this was amplified by my very bad stomach and sore system generally. In spite of the heat, I still occasionally had chills. It was a very special form of torture.

We arrived in Nairobi about 4:30 p.m., and took at taxi to Flora (I strongly suggested this to Maurice), arriving there about 4:45. I crawled into bed, continuing to fight fever, which went to 103.8 F that night at one point before I got it back down again, and more chills.

Tuesday morning (June 13), Maurice called, and I agreed that I should see the doctor. We went to Dr. Rajan Kaushal in Westlands (about 15 min. by taxi), who has a good relationship with Tangaza. He saw me about 12:30 p.m., and by 1:00 p.m. I was taking the first doses of Immodium (again), Buscopan, and Tetracycline. I slept most of the day and evening, but was by dinner able to have some soup and a few small potatoes.

Wednesday morning (June 14) looked much better, and I ate more for breakfast. I was able to attend class with no major difficulties, and so today seemed relatively uneventful as we began the final week of class. My only great concern is that I am now far behind on my paper, but I will work hard tonight to catch up on this. All in all, this weekend was perhaps more of an adventure than anticipated. Even with the food poisoning, there was much to remember and treasure about the visit to Nyanza.

(9:04 p.m.)

Kenya Diary - Part Three

2006-06-08T08:49:00.000-05:00

Monday, June 5, 2006

This morning I made a beeline for the National Social Security Fund buildings to purchase some additional telephone airtime cards, and to also try to find some foot powder. I was, in fact, successful on both counts at the little pharmacy just inside the building (I say “just inside,” but in reality, one goes through a significant security gate, around the large building that fronts on Bishop Road, and then inside a very well concealed entrance from the vantage of the street. Having so quickly taken care of that business, I enjoyed an hour online at the ACK Guesthouse cybercafe.

Today marked my first solo excursion on Nairobi public transit. I was able, after a 25-minute wait, to pick up the Citi Hoppa #126 from the Kenyatta Hospital stop to Rongai, an outer suburb where Maurice stays, and where he had set up for me an interview with Henry DeWhite Onunga, an older Luo man whom I was to interview. Stepping of the bus in Rongai, one is definitely not in Kansas anymore…

In any American context, Rongai is a slum, but in Kenyan reality I would have to characterize it as lower middle class. Slums are really beyond Western imagining here. A fair number of goats wander along the dusty roadside and nibble at what grass and trash they can find. A chaotic jumble of kiosks and tiny storefronts line the main street with hand-painted signs inserted more or less randomly along the road. The sole establishment with any Western polish (and that is minimal) is the Kobil gas station (looks quite a bit like Mobil to me…), where I met Maurice. A woman attendant was sweeping the brick paving with a short whisk broom, which most definitely annoyed the goats.

My interview with Henry Onunga was fascinating, as he had very interesting perspectives on the history of Luo traditional music, the use (or suppression) of this in Christian liturgy, and the changes he’s seen in his lifetime. Of particular interest to me was the fact that he dealt mostly with Seventh Day Adventist missionaries, who had suppressed the use of instruments (traditional or otherwise) in church until very recently. He described various traditional instruments and their manner of playing, and even had a couple cassette recordings which I was able to play on the spot with my portable cassette recorder.

After the interview, we ordered lunch (nyama choma again, but at 1/10 the price paid at Bomas of Kenya), and I went to see Maurice’s place while it was prepared (45 min. to an hour). Maurice’s apartment is entered through a metal outer door closed over a wooden inner door, both padlocked, opening on a central courtyard with three residential buildings and the back of the row of shops forming the four sides (one walks through a tiny alley between shops to reach the courtyard). The courtyard was full of clotheslines with clothing drying, and two small children were playing under the watchful eye of their mother, who was doing more laundry. Maurice has a small sitting room (which was all I saw), perhaps 10’ square, into which is wedged a couch, tiny coffee table, a chair, and a very small table and several stools. He has a small black and white TV which gets only one channel (badly), in spite of the wire extensions he improvised on the ends of the antennae. Still, in the truest spirit of Luo hospitality, he had earlier bought some fresh fruit (a mango, several bananas and some oranges), which he washed in the next room and set out for us to nibble on as we visited. He was insistent that regardless of how short a visit, it is Luo custom to offer food and hospitality to the guest. I enjoyed looking through a photo album of his family members and friends, and several of the photos were taken at his home in Nyanza, where we will go at the end of this week.

We returned to the restaurant for the meal. Now, I should back up a bit and explain how the food is ordered. In the tiny storefront window, there are legs and/or sides of the various animals hanging (mutton in this case). You indicate how much meat you want (the usual increments are ¼ kilo, ½ kilo or 1 kilo), and if you wish to have it mixed with anything (greens and potatoes were on the menu). Then, in front of you, the meat is hacked off with a large knife and weighed. I am certainly no vegetarian, nor did the experience cause me to consider swearing off meat, but we in the West are certainly isolated from this sort of scene – from window to butcher’s block to scale to the fire.

Now, all this while, I was noticing the general level of cleanliness (or, more accurately, lack thereof) and the many flies buzzing around. A small candle had been lit inside the front window, which seemed to be killing many of the flies. At any rate, I simply put e. coli out of my mind for the moment, trusting that the roasting of the meat would kill anything problematic. It is now after 8:00 p.m. and I’m feeling fine, so I think I’ve dodged that bullet. I did take the precaution of drinking only bottled soda with the meal, as I was definitely not about to trust the water supply (and, stupidly, I had not brought any bottled water with me today).

The serving of the meal was actually very nice, in spite of very basic surroundings (an outside courtyard behind the restaurant, where we were closely observed by four cats who were hoping for leftovers). A waiter first came around with a basin which had a bar of soap in it and a pitcher of warm water. The custom is to have the eldest man (Henry in this case) wash first, and then the others. This was repeated after the meal, as nyama choma is traditionally eaten with the hands. The meat was slightly tough, but flavorful, and the greens and potatoes accompanied it well. Served on the side was a large helping of ugali (cornmeal paste). All of us ate from the same large dish, which is also customary.

We were joined by another Luo man who was only introduced to me as Peter. He was especially keen on politics, and demonstrated a very thorough knowledge of American political events. He was especially complimentary of Senator Barak Obama, who is, as it turns out, Luo and from the same area of South Nyanza that all three (Maurice, Henry and Peter) men call home. Apparently, Obama endeared himself to his ancestral community by coming home to bury his father and honoring tradition in this way, as well as bringing his bride there after their marriage and staying for two weeks. Peter also said that he was paying the school fees for the children of the entire village – something that has not gotten really any press at all in the U.S., and something that I believe gives us an important insight into Obama’s heart and character.

Following the lunch, which lasted a solid hour, Maurice and I went to the cybercafe adjacent to his home so that he could check on an account he set up on an online networking community, and 10 minutes later, it was back across the street to wait for the City Hoppa #126 back to Flora Hostel. After about 15 minutes, one came, and Maurice was kind enough to wait with me the entire time (particularly since he had to make a run into town himself to the bank, and could have taken any one of a dozen matatus that came by while we waited).

As luck would have it, it was the same Citi Hoppa with the same conductor as that morning (I suppose a lone white guy this far away from tourist areas does get noticed), and the conductor remembered me and asked, helpfully, if I had gotten where I was going. I had verified with him that we had reached Rongai that morning before getting off the Citi Hoppa. I assured him that all was well and that I hadn’t gotten lost.

Arriving back at Flora about 2:45 p.m., I made a quick stop at my room and then headed back to the ACK Cybercafe to spend some additional time online, and, for a special reward, I then went to the Fairview Hotel, bought The Nation (the principal newspaper in Nairobi), and read it and some other material while having tea for nearly an hour. Then it was back to Flora about 5:00 p.m. amidst the brisk pedestrian and automobile traffic of rush hour on Bishop Road (but nothing like downtown!).

At dinner I met a professor (Bill) from Concordia University in Moorhead, MN, who had just arrived in Nairobi after several weeks in Tanzania leading a student group on a program promoting AIDS awareness. He is now taking some vacation time in Kenya, grateful to be away for a while from adolescent energy.

And, best of all, tomorrow is my “day off,” which isn’t entirely accurate, as I’ll be reading and writing quite a bit, but there are no scheduled classes or research sessions. Perhaps I’ll be able to connect with Charles – maybe for tea in the afternoon. I’ve been wondering how his day was today. In any case, I am gaining confidence in this strange environment, and I am less apprehensive of the trip to rural South Nyanza than I was even a few days ago. I am certainly never going to be daunted by travel in Europe or North America again.

(8:32 p.m.)

Tuesday, June 6, 2006
12:38 p.m.

Thought for the day: In America, if you are squatting in your shower washing clothes in a plastic basin with a bar of soap, you are angry – probably because your washing machine is broken. In Africa, you are grateful, because you are fortunate enough to have a shower, basin, and soap.

The above occurred to me as I was washing clothes this morning in the manner described. The relative luxury of this was pointed out by my trip to Rongai yesterday, where most of the residents would consider themselves incredibly fortunate to have all of these things. There is much time to think when doing laundry this way, particularly since the distraction of my radio is no more. The already tenuous connection between the antenna and the internal wiring broke today – which was inevitable, given that the antenna was not properly anchored to the body of the radio. It still gets many local stations, but I can no longer pull in Voice of America, which was a real treat for a brief while. The shortwave receiver never seems to have worked particular well. Oh well, a KSh 2,000 learning experience: inspect the goods carefully.

After laundry and my own shower this morning, I went down to visit the supermarket in the NSSF building. Unfortunately, the supermarket was no longer there. Apparently, taking down outdated signs is something that happens only infrequently in Kenya (the signs for the defunct cybercafe at the bottom of the hill on 5th Ngong Ave. and Bishop road that I tried to find just after arriving here are still up as well). I didn’t really need anything specific, but it was irritating. I then went to the pharmacy in that building and purchased some more pre-paid mobile phone time, anticipating that I might not be able to do so all that easily while in the west of the country over the weekend.

I spent about an hour and 15 minutes online at the ACK Guesthouse cybercafe – even reading some news on the CNN web site (things are not improving much in Iraq), where I bumped into Charles. He had a research appointment in town today, and will phone me when he gets back, about 5pm, so that we can meet for tea. I then returned to Flora for lunch, and while waiting for it to be served, I began constructing the outline for my research integration paper. This outline is due tomorrow, and it is a bit disconcerting to construct an outline for a research paper when only about 1/3 of the research has been completed. I suppose there is room for revision, of course, but it is still a challenge. Given the pace of the program, however, I admit that it is necessary to begin moving on the paper this early in the sequence of things.

Every day when I walk to the ACK Guesthouse, the NSSF Building or the Fairvew Hotel, I pass immediately in front of the Israeli Embassy on Bishop Road. It is, in fact, directly across from the Fairview. This explains the armed roadblocks on this stretch of the road, of course, and the compound itself is a fairly impressive fortress. A tiny sign with a buzzer/intercom by a door in the compound wall is the only identifying feature. This door has a small awning and a light. Occasionally, I have seen a white man in a khaki vest and baseball cap in the area, speaking intermittently into a microphone, sometimes on one side of the street, sometimes the other. He’s obviously Israeli security. Passing him the other day, I greeted him simply with a nod, which was returned. I didn’t want to offer a verbal greeting, as these guys are generally pretty focused on business.

The compound fence has barbed wire with electrified fencing above that. There is a car entry gate (solid metal), and about eight feet in front of this is a post that retracts into the ground to allow a car to pass. There are video cameras in several places, a semi-spherical mirror just inside the car gate mounted high enough to see it over the wall, and during business hours at least, I generally see at least four Kenyan Army soldiers manning the roadblocks (in addition to at least three or four security guards for the gates of the Fairview across the street and occasionally the Israeli security man).

Clearly, the Al Qaeda attack on the American Embassy in Nairobi some years ago was a catalyst to upgraded security for all foreign missions here, but I imagine that the Israelis had always been somewhat cautious in this environment. I have not visited the American Embassy here, nor the memorial gardens at the site of the old embassy, but I may try to do this before leaving Nairobi. I do feel my blood pressure rise a bit whenever I’m near areas where tourists are likely to gather in the city, particularly since Westerners taking part in the Maryknoll program are not encouraged, as a matter of safety, to frequent such locations.

8:41 p.m.

The outline is finished! Not only was I able to get it done, but I was also able to print out two copies at the ACK Cybercafe. It cost KSh 10 ($0.14) per page, but they threw in two staples for free (wow). It came out to three pages, and I was able to include a fair number of references to quotes I intend to use from five books, so it should be fairly easy to flesh out. As it was then almost 5:00, and Charles was expected back shortly, I hung around and sent a few e-mails. Charles called at 5:20 or so, and when I told him I was in the cybercafe, he came over.

We decided that since he had a rather frustrating day (broken appointments, lots of waiting around in the city center, and ultimately only one interview with a nun at the basilica for about 30 minutes), it was acceptable for us to have a drink at the Fairview in the poolside restaurant. With a double gin and tonic for Charles and a Tusker beer (the local brew, which is really quite good) for me in hand, we processed the last 48 hours or so in preparation for returning to class tomorrow. We also indulged in an appetizer (popcorn shrimp), which seems like such a little thing from a Western perspective, but was rather an extravagance here. The fact that I washed laundry in a plastic bucket this morning made me feel better about indulging.

Given that I am taking a course entitled “African Traditional Religion Interprets the Bible,” I thought a quote from the Bible would be a good way of starting my outline and paper. In the spirit of avoiding the European accretions to the scripture that have so often accompanied missionary activity, I chose the following (Proverbs 30:5-6):

Every word of God proves true;
He is a shield to those who take refuge in Him.
Do not add to his words, lest he rebuke you,
And you become a liar.

The emphasis in the context of my paper, and of the overall theme of the course, is that Africans must themselves interpret what Christianity means to them based on the reading and contemplation of scripture, especially in their own native tongues. The same is true for Christian worship, which includes the use of music that speaks appropriately in an African context. To be sure, there is a wide range of what will be considered appropriate from community to community, but it must speak to their cultural norms and have relevance in their frame of reference.

I did consider another quote, but this seemed a bit too easily read as an attack on all missionary activity (Proverbs 13:17):

A bad messenger plunges men into trouble, but a faithful envoy brings healing.

Of course, it is the definition of “bad messenger” that is problematic. Many Evangelicals would likely say that indigenous interpretations of scripture are deviating from the “true” message (i.e., the Evangelicals’ interpretation), and that the African must be “educated” in the “true” practice of Christianity. Hogwash.

Dinner was punctuated tonight with a blackout of about 10 minutes’ duration, but the staff quickly lit battery-powered fluorescent lights (these were permanently installed in the dining area) and a large kerosene lantern. The timing would have been far worse if this had happened earlier, when food was being prepared!

Another group of American teens and twenty-somethings arrived either this morning or last night (there were at breakfast). They are yet another mission group on their way to do something. I don’t mean to be callous, but I’m not sure how much of the culture such a group can absorb. They stay together in a pack, interacting little with people outside the group. Then again, understanding the culture is not, I suspect, their agenda. They have come to “do good,” and will build something or volunteer – and these are not bad things, I suppose. But somehow, Americans (especially this age group) are without a doubt the loudest people in the room. This last observation has been consistent throughout my stay here thus far.

Classes resume tomorrow, and I believe I’m ready. I’m well along on reading, the outline is completed, my laundry is done and my shirts are ironed.

Medical note: My digestive system seems not to have emerged entirely unscathed from my nyama choma experience in Rongai yesterday. Immodium appears to be doing the trick.

(9:15 p.m.)

Wednesday, June 7, 2006

It was truly a pleasure to return to class today. In an environment that avoids many Western distractions, it is amazing how one’s mind becomes eager for the engagement of the classroom, the contact with fellow students, and, in all honestly, the sanctuary that an academic setting such as Tangaza College provides. It is no wonder that students in Africa apply themselves to their studies! I confess that I wish my own students in America had a few less distractions and a bit more thirst for knowledge. Clearly, we just have too many toys.

After returning from Tangaza College, my fellow student (and next-door neighbor in Flora Hostel), Stembridge and I took a walk to the ATM in the NSSF building, and then I treated him to tea at the Fairview Hotel. I figured this was the easiest way to illustrate a typical Western experience. Stembridge is from southern Zambia (his native tribe and language is Tonga), and is a 28-year-old Christian Brother (not De LaSalle) who has taken first vows, but not yet perpetual vows. We had a marvelous conversation, which we continued on the walk back to Flora. He came to my room and we went through the photo library I’ve amassed so far on this journey (some 120 photos).

At dinner, we sat with a man from Tanzania – the coastal area near Zanzibar. He provided some very interesting opinions of the Kenyan dialect of Kiswahili, as he is from the area where the language originated. It is definitely different here, he assured us (I have no doubt that it is). We also discussed the difficulties of Westerners coming to an African environment, that is those Westerners who do not remain inside the “tourist bubble” of arranged tours, expensive European-style hotels, and taxi cabs. In Kiswahili, white Westerners are often referred to as “yai,” which means “egg.” This refers to both a white color, and to the fact that we are perceived as fragile. It’s actually a very apt description.

I also had another brief conversation with the young Eritrean De LaSalle Brother, Geru Andu, who gave to me his demo CD. Taking into account that the limited technical resources available to him, one can forgive the somewhat antiquated MIDI and drum machine sounds of the various tracks. It is certainly conceived as popular music – a sort of Eritrean Christian rock, if you will. However, past that there is real substance in what he is doing. I was particularly fond of a track called “Amen Kberely,” which has an interesting polyrhythmic texture, with contrary accents to the overall triple meter set up by a pattern of repeated syncopations. This polyrhythmic texture “resolves” to a purely triple meter in the refrain. I only wish I had a translation for the texts (and I also don’t know which language it is, though the titles are in both Latin and Amharic script, so I’m guessing that it is Amharic, Tigrinya, or one of the others that would use that script). I will have to find some time to sit down with Br. Geru and learn more about this recording and ask for some translations. He is presently seeking some assistance in producing a quantity of the CDs, as the master is finished, and I will try to find some resources when I return to the U.S.

I am definitely going to have to ship books home to the United States from here. I have now collected some 10 books on African culture, theology, ethnography, and research methodology. These will be invaluable as I write my paper, and I am sure that they will be excellent references to have at home, but I am already well over any reasonable airline luggage weight limits at this point, considering my menagerie of carved animals and other souvenirs. I did find a shipping service in the NSSF building, but have not asked about prices yet. I’ll try to do that tomorrow perhaps, depending upon when we return from Tangaza.

I also withdrew money from an ATM today to fund the trip to South Nyanza over the weekend. Maurice suggested that I bring KSh 10,000 to be safe. I’m bringing KSh 15,000. One never knows what might come up, and this is definitely a cash economy – almost entirely so outside Nairobi (and most places in Nairobi as well). In fact, the only place I’ve actually used a credit card outside an ATM so far is at the Fairview Hotel.

All in all, it was not as eventful a day as others have been, but the stability of the schedule and brief retreat to the “bubble” of the Fairview made it fairly pleasant. I suppose I’m storing up that sense of comfort as I approach the unknown of this weekend trip.

(8:51 p.m.)

Kenya Diary - Part Two

2006-06-05T01:05:00.000-05:00

(Photo: Maurice Ogolla and Patrick O'Shea, Bomas of Kenya, Lang'ata, Sunday June 4, 2006)

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

The first day of classes was enjoyable. My instructor for the course is Dr. Douglas Waruta, a professor from the University of Nairobi, and an ethnic Kikuyu. There are three students and three field assistants in the class, so it is quite a bit smaller than the broader survey courses. I am the only non-African in the class, so it is very interesting to have the change of perspective of being in an academic environment where I am a minority student (and a valuable experience). When topics such as the abuses of European Christian missionaries or the arrogance of American foreign policy come up, there is certainly a degree of discomfort.

On the other hand, I am seeing many parallels between what Irish Christianity had to do to “Celticize” the Latin form of Christianity that was imported by Britons, and what African Christianity must do in order to “Africanize” Christianity. The first thing is that Africans must be able to read scripture in their native languages. The Irish didn’t really have that problem, because there was only a very rudimentary form of written Irish (Ogham) that was only really used for memorial inscriptions when Latin was introduced along with Christianity. The Irish, who had a flourishing oral bardic tradition, embraced the Latin script and adapted it to use with the Irish language, and learned Latin itself very rapidly, as it was a much simpler language than Old Irish. It was not so much a case of Latin being imposed on Irish culture, but rather that the Irish culture readily adopted Latin as its own, and thus the language of the Roman Liturgy was adopted along with it. Indeed, the Irish preserved much of the literature of the classical world in the vacuum of the next several centuries after the collapse of the Western Empire, really until the Carolingian Renaissance of the 8th and 9th centuries.

This was not the case in Africa. Rather than present the scriptures in a language that could be understood by African peoples, or in a language that they might have adopted or developed as a liturgical language (such as Ge’ez in Ethiopia), Christian missionaries of the 19th century seemed to believe that African culture needed to be erased or suppressed in order to “make room” for Christianity. This failure to seek common ground with the indigenous spirituality of African peoples was a terrible miscalculation, and unless there is a blend of traditional beliefs, rituals and ethics with Christian scripture and ideals, there will never be a truly African Christianity. Dr. Waruta is hopeful that this may happen, but the process is only just beginning. In any case, I look forward to exploring this more fully.

After returning to Flora Hostel this afternoon at 3:00 or so, I went with Charles Brock to the Anglican Church of Kenya Guesthouse where he is staying – a short walk from here. He has been walking to Flora to catch the bus to Tangaza College, and so I thought it would be good for him to stop here and see my lodgings, and then I dropped off my books and went to see his. Another attraction was that the ACK Guesthouse has its own cybercafé with fairly modern machines – ones that accepted my USB jumpdrive, which allowed for file upload and download with e-mail, and to the web. Thus, I was able to post the first blog entries and send some longer letters home using attached MS Word documents. It is wonderful to know that this facility is nearby! Also, the cost is quite reasonable: KSh 90 per hour ($1.25).

After gorging myself on Internet access, Charles and I checked out the nearby Fairview Hotel, directly across from the Israeli Embassy. A couple from Oklahoma staying at Flora suggested that this was a good place for tea. The Fairview is truly a paradise, obviously catering to the tourist trade. It has fairly intense security, but once you are inside the compound, it is an astounding contrast from the busy, dusty street outside. We had tea and chocolate cake, which, with tip, cost KSh 700 (about $9.50). The hotel, at least judging from the lobby and grounds, looks wonderful. It is, however, very expensive by Kenyan standards. Singles start at KSh 6,200 ($86.00), including taxes. This isn’t much for a Western city, but here it is quite high.

It was odd sitting there, sipping tea, enjoying the beautiful grounds, and yet feeling guilty about indulging in such relative opulence. On some level, my Western self needed this brief respite from the onslaught of Kenyan reality, and yet Charles and I wondered if we would be scolded if the instructors knew that we were avoiding our “immersion” in this way, if only for a short while. There was also a gift shop, with books, maps, carvings, textiles and other items. A hippo similar to the one I bought in the downtown Nairobi market for KSh 600 was closer to KSh 1,800 ($25.00). I think I will eventually work up the courage to return to the market with the help of Maurice to search for other bargains.

A few more Westerners joined the group here at Flora Hostel, including young Australian man and woman, and another American young man, all of whom appear to be doing volunteer work. Following dinner, they wondered aloud if there was anything to do here at night. I told them I was grateful that I was required to do so much reading. Tomorrow, however, I might attempt to socialize a bit with them after dinner if my homework load is not too extreme. They are expecting 10 hours of study a day from us, including reading and writing on class days, and fieldwork and reports on other days. I think that is probably a pretty accurate estimate, particularly if one includes things like this diary, which is definitely helping me to organize my thoughts and process this very intense experience.

Tonight I have only two worksheets to complete and no major reading. I’m hoping to get through a monograph that Prof. Kirwen suggested: “Culture and the Two Interfaces of the Brain” by Harland Padfield (UC-Davis, 1992). It apparently has some relevant insights on how human beings are ‘hard wired’ to develop culturally. So, more reading, and then to sleep. Hopefully there will be no power outages this evening.

(9:12 p.m.)

Thursday, June 1, 2006

Classes were short today, owing to the fact that it was Madaraka Day, the day that commemorates self-rule in Kenya. Generally, things are closed on this national holiday, but the pace of the MIASMU program required that we meet today. Traffic, as one might expect, was much lighter, and we actually arrived early, allowing me to take some photos of the Tangaza College campus. Unfortunately, the holiday also seemed to mean that both the cybercafe at Tangaza College and the one at the ACK Guesthouse were closed, so another day passes without Internet access.

After returning to Flora Hostel about 2pm, I gathered some things, dropped off my books, and headed down to the ACK Guesthouse to try the cybercafe. Finding it closed, I rang Charles and we decided to walk into downtown. This was the first time either of us attempted it without a local escort, and Madaraka Day turned out to be a good day to do it, because traffic was unusually light and the streets were not crowded with people. Not all shops were open, but the large Nakumatt (Kenya’s major Western-style grocery store plus many other goods) was open, and I was able to purchase some cards to recharge my mobile phone credit, and Charles was able to get money from an ATM. We walked back proud of ourselves for taking the initiative, and for fending off the cab drivers looking for a fare on a slow day, and the men trying to get you to arrange a safari or go to a particular market. They apparently do not take Madaraka Day off, and are rather insistent about promoting their services.

I may have gotten a bit too much sun overall today, because I am trying to recover from a headache, and in spite of sunscreen and a long-sleeved shirt, my arms are quite pink. The intensity of the equatorial sun cannot be overstated. It seems that far less exposure here burns you than in northern latitudes. I wouldn’t say I’m burned to a crisp, but the effects are cumulative, and I’ll have to be careful in the future.

Today’s class discussion focused on the problem of the priorities of the many Western missionaries that have come to Africa in the 19th century and later. It seems obvious to me that you cannot convert people before you first help them to improve their lives. If they are starving, they must eat and then learn to feed themselves. If they are ill, they must be nursed to health and then taught how to avoid disease in their communities. Only then will there be a chance of spreading any Christian message. Meanwhile, by helping people who need help, a Christian provides an example by living the message, not simply preaching it. Unfortunately, it seems that so many of the evangelical preachers in Africa are unconcerned with concrete strategies to improve the daily lives of people. At best, the type of Christianity they will spread is nominal, because it has no relevance to the basic priorities of living.

I’m reading the first three chapters of Bible and Theology in African Christianity by John S. Mbiti for the course now. It should provide a good overview of the historical background in general, the history of biblical translation into African languages, and an examination of how the Bible has been used in African theology. As I am not that well grounded in theology, I will have to read carefully. On the other hand, perhaps this “blind spot” in my academic background will prove a blessing, as I will not bring too many preconceived theological notions to the reading.

Sr. Loretta Brennan sent me a memo today with the details of the concert I am to attend on Saturday at 3pm. It will be held at the East African Women’s League Hall, which is very near here (on the way, in fact, to the ACK Guesthouse). The cost is KSh 500, which is fairly steep for a concert, but it is a fundraiser. Afterward, I will be introduced to Ken Wakia, the director of the ensemble. It should be very helpful to have his perspective on what he is doing to adapt traditional music to a more Western performance format. Maurice will meet me here at Flora at 2:30, and we’ll walk together.

Maurice has also planned that on Sunday, after Mass at the Cathedral in Nairobi, we will go to Bomas, to observe traditional dances and songs. On Monday, he has set up an interview with a traditional musician and teacher. Things are really moving quickly!

Back to reading – something that this program certainly emphasizes!

(8:01 p.m.)

Thursday, June 2, 2006

The first week of classes is over (hard to believe). I have a pretty intense weekend ahead of me, considering the reading assignments plus the fieldwork that is scheduled, but I’m feeling fully engaged in the process now. The only significant disappointment today (apart from waking up to a power outage) was that the cybercafe at the Anglican Guesthouse was still closed (and will be until Monday), but the woman at the reception desk there suggested that Charles and I try the cybercafe in the government building across the street. It is a massive complex of two high-rise buildings, and in one of them there are actually two cybercafes (a misnomer, actually, since there is no “café,” just computers with Internet access. Anyway, there turned out to be two such operations, on two different floors, and while access was painfully slow (imagine 8 machines all using the same DSL connection split between them), I was able to get some important items answered and clear out my inbox, plus send some longer messages to friends at home. Unfortunately, I don’t think these will be open over the weekend, and I might venture up to the Youth Hostel tomorrow to give that another try.

The foray into the Social Security Fund Building was actually more productive than I had expected, since the building we were in included a bank with ATM, a grocery store, a small pharmacy, a grocery store, and even a dry cleaner! Having all of this within a 10 min. walk is very helpful, as it is a further 20 to 25 min. from there into central Nairobi.

Following this exploration, Charles and I had a cup of tea at the canteen outside the Anglican Guesthouse and processed our day. He is a very pleasant companion, and it is extremely helpful to be able to talk to somebody who is also experiencing Africa for the first time and also studying in the MIASMU program. We are finding that we have much in common with respect to our outlook and what we hope to absorb from studying here.

Just before dinner, I encountered a man in the courtyard of the Flora Hostel named Joseph, who was packing up for the day, but had been selling carvings, paintings and other souvenir items. His prices were as good or better than the open-air market I had visited on Tuesday during our tour of Nairobi, so I purchased from him a carved rhino and an elephant, each for KSh 500 ($7.00). The elephant has holes for carved tusks (traditionally, these would have been ivory, but are now usually a substitute), which Joseph said he would bring tomorrow morning. That will work well, as I’ll be around the hostel tomorrow reading and washing some clothes (though I might splurge on the dry cleaner for my shirts on Monday).

Having heard American English being spoken by a group at Flora, I walked over and introduced myself. They were part of a fairly large group (perhaps 10 students plus a professor and his entire family) from James Madison University in Harrisonburg, VA on a five-week cultural anthropology experience all over Kenya. They are at Flora tonight before heading out to Amboseli, in the south near the Tanzanian border and Mt. Kilimanjaro. They have been here for three weeks, most recently in Nairobi in homestays with families for five days. That is true immersion! I believe that these students will benefit greatly from this experience.

In current events: I learned this morning that in spite of the confidence Charles and I drew from going into central Nairobi yesterday, we had actually just missed a significant clash between police and some of the street hawkers (as well as some other protestors) not very far from where we were. Apparently, things got violent and four people were killed. I do think that Charles and I would have had the sense to avoid anything that looked even remotely like a riot, and by the time we had gotten there, things were pretty sedate, as described in my last entry. This just reinforces the fact that one needs to maintain a good sense of situational awareness when on the streets here. One humorous note to this is the fact that it took us several hearings of the word before we understood the African student at Tangaza who was relating the story to us. With the African accented British English, the word “hawkers” sounded clearly to us Americans as “hookers.” I explained the confusion and the meaning of that term in American English, and the group erupted in laughter.

I’ve also successfully washed underwear and socks with bar soap in a plastic basin in my shower twice now, and actually I think I’m doing a pretty thorough job (perhaps this is too much information to post on the Internet…). I will need to wash at least a couple of shirts tomorrow morning, but now I’m ahead of the game by not needing to do all of my laundry in the morning, leaving more time for reading.

I’ve been discovering things that one should bring when traveling in the third world:

twine or thin rope (for drying clothes, tying bundles, etc.)
small flashlight (I remembered this!)
toilet paper (rarer than you might think)
bar soap
extra toothbrush (if you forget to use bottled water just once…)
handkerchiefs
washcloth
hand towel
hand sanitizer (I bought the large bottle)
water purification tablets
1 liter bottle for above tablets
eyeglass repair kit (unless you have 20/20 vision)
small box of wooden matches
shortwave radio (if you are a news junky like me)

This is in addition to a medical kit that should include benadryl, loperamide, NSAID (like Tylenol), hydrocortisone cream, antibiotic ointment, bandages, antacid tablets, a thermometer, Q-tips, and multi-vitamins. If you are in a tropical environment with mosquitos (like Kenya), you’ll need insect repellant (I didn’t mess around and got 100% DEET), sunblock (SPF 30 at least), and a hat with a good brim (do not bow to fashion).

Of course, there are things I wish I hadn’t brought:

extra notebook (just more weight)
camera bag (bulky – just bring the camera in the backpack inside a sock)
body wash (bar soap would have been fine)

I can’t imagine anybody contending with contact lenses in this environment, so just don’t bother. An expensive watch will just mark you as a tourist (or a target), so that’s best left at home as well. My $9.00 Wal-Mart special is doing just fine, but even with a cheap watch, you are best to wear long sleeves and cover it when in town, or else put it in your pocket. There are also a few rules to live by in Nairobi:

1. Be home by 6:00 p.m. It gets dark VERY quickly after that, and you DO NOT want to be wandering around after dark.

2. Failing #1, take a taxi home.

3. Never look at a map while walking.

4. Don’t take out your nice digital camera when standing on the street.

5. If the electricity is working, make sure you are charging an electronic device (if you have any with you).

6. USE the mosquito net that came with your room.

7. If you find a safe source of water, keep old plastic water bottles and refill them.

8. Carry only what you absolutely need.

I’m sure there are more rules. Hopefully my ignorance of them will not be dangerous but merely inconvenient.

Finally, on Bishop’s Road, which intersects the road where Flora is Located (5th Ngong Avenue), there is a delightful little item called a “friendly checkpoint.” This entails large cement barriers that force cars to zig-zag from lane to lane and slow down radically – no doubt to keep traffic in check as it approaches the government buildings in the vicinity. They have even put up a sign with a little, round cartoon character that looks a bit like a peanut M&M candy with a smiley face (and eyes too close together). The irony is that the “friendly checkpoint” also includes a man with an AK-47 in camouflage and a beret, who did not look particularly friendly to me. The weapon was well worn, but I’m sure it was in working condition. This would certainly make me drive cautiously.

(8:31 p.m.)

Saturday, June 3, 2006

This morning I slept through breakfast, but it was a trade I was very willing to make. After a week of adjusting to Kenya, and the brisk pace of the MIASMU program, I was very tired indeed. I awoke at about 8:00 a.m. feeling well rested, and set about washing some of my shirts, and reading from Theology in Africa by Kwesi Dickson (specifically, Chapter 3: The Colonial Factor – And Now, as well as Chapter 6: Cultural Continuity with the Bible).

Joseph, the seller of souvenirs, returned about 10:40 a.m., and as promised, brought the tusks for the carved elephant I bought from him yesterday. There was also another souvenir salesman, Thomas, with him today. I bought a few more items from each of them, and I think I pretty well done with souvenir shopping now, except for perhaps the purchase of some traditional instruments.

I then ventured back to the Youth Hostel, and the Internet connection was working. It was about as slow as the cybercafe at the Social Security Ministry building, but at least it was a connection. I’m finding that I really am addicted to e-mail (well, to the Internet in general, but I’m relying on e-mail for my “fix” because loading web pages is so incredibly frustrating at these speeds).

Maurice came by at about 2:15, and I showed him around Flora, as he had not seen much of it before. We then walked down to the East African Women’s League Hall on Bishop’s Road, arriving really too early to go in, so I treated Maurice to a glass of passion fruit juice at the Fairview Hotel. We then went to the EAWL Hall to await the arrival of Sr. Loretta Brennan, who had told me about the concert. After waiting until 2:57, we decided to go ahead in and got seated. Sr. Loretta joined us just before the start of the concert. I think it will be helpful here to quote from my field notes, as the concert and subsequent interview of the conductor was part of my research for MIASMU:

Field Notes

Attended a concert of the Nairobi Chamber Chorus under the direction of Ken Wakia at the East Africa Women’s League Hall on Bishop’s Road, Nairobi. The concert consisted half of songs by Kenyan arrangers, and half of African-American spiritual arrangements by New Orleans arranger Moses Hogan (1957-2003). Wakia earned a M.Mus. from Miami, studying on a scholarship, but is from South Nyanza in the Luo area of Kenya.

The concert was of high quality, and was generally Western in its presentation and performance etiquette. There was emphasis on the use of blended voices, and it was clear that many of the singers had Western-style vocal training. Musically, the performance was engaging, and while there was some movement with a few of the pieces on the first half, it could not be said that dancing accompanied any of the songs. One of the pieces, “No Musalaba Gogenda,” arranged by Dr. Arthur Kemoli (Nairobi University) was quite complex, with a difficult section of contrapuntal entrances and very challenging rhythms. It had an almost hypnotizing effect in the contrapuntal section, balanced by more homorhythmic passages.

It was extremely interesting to hear Kenyans (and a few Zambians) interpret the music of the African-American arranger Moses Hogan. As an American choral director, I am very familiar with Hogan’s arrangements (in fact, two of the arrangements on this concert were performed only this past academic year by my Chamber Singers), so I was in a good position to compare and contrast. The approach to the English was more enunciated, with some vowel differences that are common between American and African English. The choir did have some trouble with one of the arrangements, owing to its difficulty level, but overall the concert was most enjoyable. In a way, to hear Africans sing this music completes a cycle that spans the entire slave experience, from Africa to the New World and back again. This dimension of the performance was very moving for me.

Following the concert, I interviewed Ken Wakia to learn more about his goals for this newly-founded (November 2005) group. Africans, he said, are not generally “trained” in singing, in the Western sense, which is a problem in light of his goal: to combine Western training and traditional source materials in a “fusion” style that may be appreciated by both African and Western audiences. Ultimately, his vision, which is both grand and necessary in our time, is to use this blending of traditions “to preach peace in the world.”

Wakia maintains that force alone cannot bring peace. Cultural exchange, including musical exchange, is a way of bridging the gap between peoples. It is also a means to effect social change at home through the raising of funds with benefit concerts and other charitable appearances.

Beyond the present Nairobi Chamber Chorus, Wakia wishes to establish a larger African Youth Choir that could tour in Kenya, around Africa, and ultimately throughout the world, sharing this “fusion” style of African music with audiences around the globe. In some ways, this would be modeled on other large youth choirs that have sprung up in other countries and regions.

According to Wakia, the presentation of traditional music in its original, “unwesternized” form is not desirable in his specific situation for several reasons. First, many of the singers who participate in the Nairobi Chamber Chorus have some degree of vocal or musical training (i.e., Western musical training), and to ask them to ‘erase’ this in approaching traditional music “would be a disservice to them.” Further, he asserts that there are already enough groups of this nature, presenting authentic traditional music very well (albeit in a slightly artificial forum).

I brought up one example from South Africa, Ladysmith Black Mombazo and asked for Wakia’s reaction. He feels that they are doing an excellent job, and that the group’s success has been encouraging to him. However, they have taken traditional music and, in the case of several of their recordings, have simply ‘layered’ Western popular music on top of it. There is no real fusion of elements, as both could be separated and continue to exist independently. Wakia’s goal is a true interweaving of the African and Western strands.

The audience at the EAWL was generally white, female and elderly. They were uniformly appreciative, so it seems that acceptance by a Western audience has been achieved. Very shortly, the NCC will present the same concert to a more typical Kenyan audience, and it will be interesting to see their reaction. Wakia maintains that Kenyans “know good singing,” and whether or not it blends Western influences or not, he believes that they will appreciate the skill demonstrated, as well as the opportunity to hear concert music in native languages.

I also asked about movement in the concert presentation. Only a few pieces had anything like a coordinated movement, and these were fairly simple swaying and hand movement. There was no clapping or anything that might be described as choreography. Wakia stated, “I’m not a big fan of unified movement.” Rather, he believes that movement in each singer should come from an individual understanding of the music, which should naturally lead to appropriate movement. Some coordinated movement may be introduced “where it is necessary or possible,” but choreographing music simply because it is in an African language is affectation in Wakia’s ideal fusion style.

I am very encouraged that this encounter is likely to lead to meeting with a number of other Kenyan musicians who are similarly interested in the notion of African-Western fusion in the choral idiom. In particular, I hope to meet Dr. Arthur Kemoni of Nairobi University, whose daughter, Debula, sings alto in the Nairobi Chamber Chorus. Since all of the music on today’s concert was sacred, and since the arrangers have all worked almost exclusively with sacred texts and songs, this fusion movement has important implications for liturgical music in Kenya specifically, and more generally in East Africa. I am also very eager to obtain copies of the scores of the works I heard today, as well as others, so that I might bring this music back to share with my choirs at home.

(End of Quote)

Following this, Maurice and I walked back to Flora, and I played for him (on headphones via my computer) one of the performances of a Moses Hogan arrangement that my Chamber Singers performed this year. It was interesting to have his reaction – that it was a very refined sound. As I listen to it now, I too agree that it is refined, but there is a depth in the tone of the African choir I heard today that I would like to find in approaching African-American spirituals in the future. The African sound is very immediate and alive, regardless of whether they are singing arrangements of traditional songs or spirituals. Such a sound engages the listener from the first note.

And now for some spoiled American whining: I miss television. This is odd, since I don’t watch nearly as much as the average American, and what I do watch is confined mostly to CNN, Discovery, The National Geographic Channel, and Comedy Central. Even so, the evenings are SO very quiet here. It is good to be able to read and study, of course, but I find myself craving just a little distraction to let my mind rest a bit. I did watch a bit of local news in the lounge last night, but it was difficult to make sense of it, as it switched so readily between English and Kiswahili.

As a result of being TV-less, I am essentially out of the loop entirely on world news, which does enhance the sense of isolation. I also realize that I am very use to both CNN and NPR as a part of my morning routine, while here there is only silence (well, the sound of traffic). I am kicking myself for not purchasing a small shortwave radio. It would be very soothing indeed to pick up the BBC World Service. Perhaps when I’m in town tomorrow I might purchase one if a good price can be found.

And, tomorrow I can sleep later and not miss breakfast, which is served at 8am on Sundays!

(8:09 p.m.)

Sunday, June 4, 2006

What an exhausting day! I met Maurice at 9:20 a.m. to walk into the city to attend Mass at the Basilica of the Holy Family, the seat of the Archdiocese of Nairobi. As in the previous entry, providing my field notes probably is the best way to give the outline of the day (though some additional thoughts and observations will be added in brackets):

Field Notes

This morning I attended Mass at the Basilica of the Holy Family in Nairobi. It was the 10:00 a.m. Mass (which actually began closer to 10:20), and the Mass was in Kiswahili. Today was the feast of Pentecost. The church was very full, and one of the reasons that the Mass began late was that the prior Mass was also very full, and it was difficult for people to both exit and enter at the same time. We encountered the same problem following the Kiswahili Mass.

Since my principal goal was to observe the choir, we sat on the side of the altar dais where they were seated, basically in pews right next to the choir. I had a very good view of the directors (there were two who alternated) and could hear the choir very clearly. They were dressed in tan robes, including the directors.

The opening hymn (as with many of the hymns) was in call, response format, with the leader (or leading section – often the sopranos or all women) singing a short phrase, and the choir responding in four-part harmony. With some of the hymns, and with all of the Mass parts (Gloria, Sanctus, Agnus Dei), there was clapping and some swaying movement, some sections with hands moving together with palms outward. About 75% of the music was accompanied with percussion, including conga drums, shakers of some sort and other idiophones. The choir took pitches from an electronic keyboard off to the side, but it was never used for accompaniment.

One of the things that surprised me was that during the Gloria and the Sanctus, there was one woman who was designated to ululate in a very high voice – sustained for quite a long time. I imagine that this is meant to underline the joyous nature of these texts, but as Westerner, I was certainly not expecting it! The psalm was presented by a solo psalmist with choral response, which certainly was familiar from Masses in America, and which seemed to fit very well with the call/response format of many of the hymns.

Generally, the choir was well prepared, although at a few points there seemed to be some missed signals on repeats or other structural things. Overall, it was a very lively and exciting musical amplification of the liturgy.

As I consider this Mass, and as I discussed it afterward with my field assistant, Maurice, I realized that although the form of the Mass was clearly Latin (I always knew what was happening and never felt lost in the service), the soul of it was African. There was clearly a sense of ownership, perhaps all the more because it was the Kiswahili Mass and not English. In any case, it seemed that the music flowed from the spirit of the singers – they were almost always moving, swaying gently while they sang, and I noted that they looked genuinely like they were celebrating.

That is, perhaps, one of the things severely lacking in Masses from my own tradition. There is very little sense of celebration – more a sense of duty. It is not wrong to year for some more contemplative music in worship, of course, but the sense of celebration, I believe, should not be entirely lost.

Following Mass, I bought a few items while in the city center, and then walked back to Flora Hostel by way of the ACK Guesthouse, where Charles joined us for the trip out to Bomas of Kenya.

Bomas of Kenya

This park is essentially an attempt to provide “one-stop shopping” for those wishing to experience music and see traditional homesteads of several of the major Kenyan ethnic communities. There is also a restaurant, and the auditorium can seat at least two thousand people, perhaps more.

[Before attending the performance, we had a late lunch at the relatively expensive restaurant. We all ordered what might be considered the Kenyan national dish: nyama choma (roasted meat). This can be pretty much anything, but in this case it was beef – a somewhat tougher variety than one might expect, using the local Maasai cattle. It is tough and comes with bones, fat, and pretty much everything. At the risk of upsetting the reader, Charles got a very small piece of hide in his, identifiable from the tiny tuft of hair. I also tried Tusker beer, a lager that is really rather good. For a side dish, I had ugali, which is a thick cornmeal paste that can be eaten easily with the fingers. It does not, however, have much in the way of taste, which is unfortunate, since I expect to be eating a fair amount if it when I visit Migori District in Nyanza. Charles had chapati, which is a type of fried, unleavened bread – almost like a tortilla. I think I’ll go with that next time.]

We saw traditional dances and songs from the Kikuyu, Luyha, Maasai, and at least one coastal tribe. There was also a drumming ensemble (also in a coastal tradition), and a group of acrobats for variety, as well as some very modern choreography to a South African popular song.

[I remembered the South African pop music from the performance of Ladysmith Black Mombazo at Saint Mary’s University this past March, when they did an arrangement of this same popular tune. I was rather puzzled by the inclusion of a South African pop tune with modern choreography.]

Of course, the research interest was not in seeing the acrobats or modern dance to South African popular music, but it was interesting to note the presence of these interspersed with more traditional offerings. It was also necessary to ignore the fact that this was being presented indoors, devoid of any particular ethnic celebration or festival, and with the aid of microphones for the drummers and some of the singers. Even so, there were some very helpful elements.

Apart from drumming, the only traditional melodic instrument (I shall ignore the accordion used for the “traditional” Kikuyu dance – more about that later) was a flute, which played a pentatonic scale. This was from a coastal tribe, but Maurice told me that many ethnic communities have their own version of the flute, and this makes sense as it is a popular instrument with many variations all over the world. This particular song/dance (it is difficult to separate the two in African performance) employed the drum ensemble with the flute.

Perhaps the most interesting song/dance was the one presented to represent the Maasai community. The women entered from one side, and the men from the other in this courtship dance, and each group sang its own very distinct melody. There were no instruments except for a large cow’s horn, but the men would occasionally click their staffs in one hand against the shaft of their spears in the other hand. What was so interesting is that the song of the women and the song of the men were totally different, and there was no attempt to reconcile them. It was as if the two songs were remaining defiant and stubbornly different. At several points in this presentation, men, individually or perhaps two at a time, would jump straight up in the air, demonstrating their worthiness as a mate by the height they attained in jumping.

Maurice was rather critical of the Luyha dance, saying that it was not performed especially well. As the Luyha are a tribe neighboring his own Luo people in western Kenya, I imagine he has seen more authentic Luyha dances.

Most of the singing was rather bright and nasal in quality – particularly the song of the northeastern group (this could have been Rendille or Gabbra – the announcement was not clear). The women’s voices especially were almost piercing in intensity, and while this would not be good for “choral” singing, it does have the advantage of carrying a long distance. There was a fair amount of call and response singing, with a leader or leaders set off against the rest of the group. None of the music included singing in parts (except for the Maasai example, which really consisted of two separate, even competing, songs.

A word about the Kikuyu “traditional” dance: It was accompanied by accordion (!) and a percussion instrument that was fashioned out of a heavy metal ring, the effect of which was like a large “dinner triangle” from the American Old West. The player of this metal circle (90% circle is more accurate, as there was a break to allow vibration), alternately struck it with a metal or wooden stick (difficult to see) and bounced it off a short wooden stool placed in front of his seat. The dance itself was more like an English country dance than what one would expect to find in Africa. The dancers even held each other like you would expect a European couple to do 100 years ago, with one hand out to the side holding the partner’s hand and the other hand in contact with the partner’s body (at the hip or shoulder). I cannot help but suspect that this is somehow a relic of colonial rule, and perhaps even a satirical adaptation of an English dance.

[It was difficult to know whether the Kikuyu dance was meant to be a mockery of English couples dancing, or whether this had actually been absorbed by the tribal culture and was being presented as Kikuyu. I suppose that it is possible that this dance style also somehow evolved independently among the Kikuyu, but I sincerely doubt it. In any case, the accordion certainly did not suddenly appear in Kikuyu culture without some external influence.]

Just this limited exposure to some of the traditional music of Kenya illustrates the challenges posed by attempting to harness it for liturgical music. However, as was seen in Mass this morning, the incorporation of drumming, the prevalence of motion while singing, and the format of call and response appear to be deeply rooted in the traditional music of many peoples of Kenya. I come away from this day with a deeper realization that at least in some African churches, the synthesis of musical materials from traditional culture with the format imposed by Christian liturgy is very well established. To be sure, this is not the case in all African churches (especially based on Charles’ report from the Anglican Cathedral this morning), but it is happening, especially as evidenced by Mass at the seat of the Archdiocese of Nairobi.

(End of Quote)

Getting back from Bomas of Kenya was more of a challenge than we had anticipated. The bus (Citi Hoppa) that goes by Flora Hostel from that location is number 126. It is good that we had Maurice with us, because, inexplicably, the matatus sporting number 126 go to town, but do not go by Flora Hostel. There was no way at all to know that. At any rate, we waited and waited, and when number 126 came, the driver didn’t stop, indicating by hand signal that he was full. A number 24 came by (if you got on this on the other side of the road, you could make a rather long loop but get to the right place), but we were well out of position to catch it. Then, frustratingly, both a 126 and a 24 arrived at the same time. We took our chances with the 126, letting 24 go, and after a few locals rushed on, there was exactly one place left. Charles and I, not wanting to violate the buddy system, decided to stick together so we let it go as well.

It was by then about 6:30. At 6:45 it is nearly dark, and by 7:00 it is night – entirely. The guidelines for the MIAS program tell us that we should be in our residences by 6:00 p.m., so we were already “living on the edge.” We decided to walk to a corner nearby where a car was parked that seemed to be a taxi. It was. As Maurice was negotiating a price to get us back, two small children leapt into the front seat of the taxi, and a woman came up and was about to get in the back when she realized that we were attempting to hire the taxi. Fortunately, she was only going back down the road a short way, so we were able to wait for the taxi to return. The driver turned out to be very good at avoiding traffic, and after dropping Charles off first at the ACK Guesthouse, I was let off at Flora Hostel at almost exactly 6:45 p.m. (the dinner bell rang as I got out of the taxi, so I headed straight to dinner). This cost us KSh 600, instead of the combined KSh 60 that the Citi Hoppa would have cost, but Charles and I were all to happy to pay it as night settled in.

Tomorrow I will brave the transit system on my own for the first time, as I am to interview an elderly musician in the suburb of Rongai, about 10 km past where we were today (and using the same bus route of 126). This should be somewhat easier than today’s attempted return, since the busses out of town at mid morning should not be full. I’m supposed to meet Maurice in Rongai by 11:00 a.m., so I’ll need to be waiting for the bus by 10:00. That will give me the time to get some credit added to my phone (which is out), and perhaps a quick check of e-mail at the ACK Guesthouse. Brace for total immersion…

(10:13 p.m.)

Kenya Diary - Part One

2006-05-31T08:06:00.000-05:00

I’ve made it to Kenya! All in all, the travel itself was not that eventful, in spite of some stress caused by erroneous flight listings. It seems that there were two Kenya Airways Flight 103 listings from London to Nairobi, one departing at 8:50 a.m., and the other at 10:20 a.m. This latter time is what my ticket showed, and that was a reasonable connection from the Virgin Atlantic flight from Boston to London, which arrived at 7:30 a.m. However, the 8:50 a.m. flight would have been impossible. The stress came from the fact that until I actually got to London, nobody could tell me with certainty that the flight was, in fact, at 10:20. It was.

15 hours in airplanes is a LONG trip. Add to that time at airports, and I’ve been traveling for a good 20 hours. I was able to wash my face and brush my teeth at London Heathrow, so that helped a bit. The flight from London to Nairobi might have been fairly pleasant except that a Somali woman with bad knees sat behind me, and asked the flight attendant to request that I not recline my seat. I’m not sure who I’d complain to, but 8.5 hours sitting bolt upright is not particularly good on one’s back, especially when all you really want to do is sleep. I managed to sleep for a couple hours anyway, but my neck paid the price.

Nairobi’s Jomo Kenyatta International Airport is about what I expected – shabby and not especially clean or efficient. However, all of the people I encountered were helpful and genuinely welcoming. This makes it very different from airports in the Soviet Union and Eastern Bloc countries during the Cold War. I remember being in Moscow in 1991 and feeling the loathing of the customs agents and security people. There is no trace of that here. I just wish they had picked a different color paint than the sickly greenish-yellow that covers virtually every surface of the arrivals and baggage hall.

I have been successful in activating my cell phone and getting the Ksh250 calling credit added to my account. I have not, however, been successful in calling anybody. Apparently, I am missing something about how to dial both in-country and international numbers. The Customer Care number appears to be perpetually busy.

Greg Gaut, my Saint Mary’s colleague, told me that there is a cybercafe in the neighborhood of Flora Hostel, where I’m staying. I hope to post these as blog entries and keep in touch with folks by e-mail from there or from on the Tangaza College campus.

Flora Hostel is a gated compound with security guards (pretty much everything is in Nairobi it seems, or at least as far as I could see during the nighttime drive from the airport). New Jambo Taxi service was waiting for me at the airport and brought me to Flora with no delay or incident. The driver was very friendly and talkative. Flora Hostel itself is, in a word, Spartan. It reminds me of some places I’ve stayed in the former East Germany just after reunification – run-down but clean. The accommodations, run by the Consolata Sisters, will be fine, but I think I’ll be pretty happy to return to my house after a month here. The bath towel is like sandpaper (no fabric softener here), and there is a very small, rudimentary bar of soap. The room has tile floors in the main room and bath, a desk built into the wall where the window is, and a wall closet. The bathroom itself has a shower that is configured rather oddly. It has a spigot that sticks pretty far out and looks like something a bathtub would have, with hot/cold water faucets and a shower/spigot selector knob. The only problem with the spigot is that it is positioned directly under the shower head at a height that, shall we say, requires a certain degree of caution. Even so, a HOT SHOWER was heavenly, and I brought bath/shower gel from home which should last me the month.

The room has adequate light and one outlet, which ought to be fine for charging my various electronic devices. I’m not sure how much time I’ll be spending here. I suspect that it will be minimal, for sleeping only, or writing and reading.

So much for first impressions in the dark! I look forward to tomorrow, when I can get outside and walk around a bit to check out the neighborhood. Breakfast is at 7am, and apparently the nuns do not like people to be late, so I should get to sleep. I’m definitely tired enough to sleep, so that is a good thing.

Monday, May 29, 2006

This morning I was met by Maurice, who is to be my assistant for the Maryknoll course. He introduced me to the chaos that is the public transport system in Nairobi – fortunately, Maryknoll students are brought to Tangaza College by a privately-arranged bus during the program. I’m not sure I could stand three weeks of public transportation Nairobi-style. It does have the advantage of being cheap, but I’m not even sure if “you get what you pay for” even applies in this case. It is pretty extreme.

The best (but not as regular as one might like) public bus in and around Nairobi is called the “Citi Hoppa.” These are green busses that seat maybe 16 people. Depending upon the time of day, they can cost from 30 KSh to 50 KSh (roughly $0.38 or $0.63). The fares are obviously not enough to support repairing (or installing) shock absorbers. Also, unless you understand rapid-fire Kiswahili (or have a guide), it is difficult to get on the right one. This morning, even a local young woman who got on the Citi Hoppa Maurice and I rode was told that it was going to one place, and instead it stopped short. She was therefore forced to take a Matatu (minibus) the rest of the way to the Catholic University of East Africa, where she is a student. We took the same Matatu a short distance the rest of the way to Tangaza College.

The Matatu is an experience. Swarms of these minibuses ply the streets of Nairobi and its environs. Normally, there is a driver, who doesn’t interact with the riders, and at least one ‘hawker’ (there may be a specific term, but this will do) who jumps out at stops and drums up business. The Matatus are fairly reckless (Maurice’s word, not mine), and they certainly don’t have any smoother ride than the Citi Hoppa. However, as an added torture, there is usually very loud music blasting in these minivans, presumably to attract youthful clientele. Much of the time, this is imported American rap music (no, you can’t get away from that even here). I supposed I should have expected this to be a rough ride. The guidebook (Lonely Planet) I bought for Kenya begins its paragraph about Matatus with “If you don’t mind taking your life in your hands…”

At any rate, I have just returned half-deaf to Flora Hostel, following the above-mentioned trip to Tangaza College, and a brief walking tour of central Nairobi. The College is nicely kept, particularly if one compares it to many other buildings and facilities here. I ment Denis Odinga Okiya, the Registrar and Administrative Assistant for MIAS, and Fr. Michael Kirwen, the Director, and had a brief walk-through of the building and grounds. Saint Mary’s should be proud of its presence here. It is so desperately needed, and it is clear that the CTIE graduates this year will go forth to do important work in Kenya and the other countries from which they come.

I also met Br. Geru, an Eritrean with whom I’d had some correspondence facilitated by Br. Bob Smith. I hope to visit with him more and learn more about the CD project he is attempting to get off the ground.

Now, central Nairobi…

Chaos is really the only word that comes to mind. Clearly, there are islands in the midst of this chaos, but these are principally the expensive hotels that cater to European and North American visitors. There is no effective control of pedestrian or automotive traffic, and people simply cross the street where they can get away with it, and vehicles approach the city with a similar disregard for the few traffic signals and signs that actually exist.

The streets, especially smaller ones, are choked with pedestrians, and the sidewalks are crumbled or simply dirt in many places, with bits of trash and plastic bags trampled into them. Some streets have an endless array of merchant stalls and storefronts selling electronics, gifts, phone cards, and all manner of other things. Prices are quite low for most goods, excluding electronics. For example, I saw dress shirts for KSh 399 (about $5). I might have to brave the chaos and buy a few of these before I head home. Fumes from the myriad vehicles that clearly do not have pollution controls in place can be overwhelming at times.

One does see white people, but not on the public transportation system. Clearly, people were surprised by my presence, based on some of the looks I received. It is an odd feeling to be a minority for the first time, and it causes some interesting internal reactions. In downtown Nairobi today, Maurice and I turned a corner on a main street, and I saw a white man with gray hair in a sharp business suit standing off to the side reading a newspaper. For a moment, I was very tempted to greet him, merely because he was also white, and I had not seen any white people for some time during that walk.

Mostly, though, it was the noise, dirt, and general disarray of the downtown that made me nervous. I’ve read a number of warnings about pickpockets and muggers, and I can see how this could be the case at night in such an environment. Seldom have I been somewhere that has caused me concern for my personal safety. I admit that I was nervous on several occasions today – and this was in daylight.

Most of the white people here live in secure compounds in the suburbs of Karen and Langata (the latter is also where Tangaza College is located). One sees them driving Land Rovers or Mercedes sedans in these more affluent sections of Nairobi. The contrast between their houses and gardens and the living arrangements of average Kenyans is stark. Of course, I’m writing this before having really seen Kibera, one of the largest slums in the world (though I was able to see just the edge of it during the drive this morning).

At least my cell phone works! I have not called anybody in the US yet, but knowing that this is possible does help me to feel less isolated. My next task this afternoon is to find an internet café that is supposed to be just at the end of the road where I’m staying. I am looking forward to sending e-mails to friends and family back home to let them know that I’m well.

8:15 p.m.

Damn. No internet access today. Apparently, the Cybercafe that was closest to the hostel has permanently closed. The next nearest, in the Nairobi Youth Hostel, had lost its internet connection about noon today. They expected to possibly have it back tonight, but I am concerned about walking alone at night, even a short distance, so I’m not going to go back and try again. Perhaps I will end up only using the internet at Tangaza College. There are several computer labs, and I might also be able to plug in my laptop to an Ethernet port directly also. That would be very nice. The question will be whether or not there is sufficient time in the daily schedule to do much online. It may be that I have to compose messages ahead of time and send them when I am able to connect. We shall see…

I decided to call Dad to tell him that I had arrived safely. I need to have somebody attempt a return call, as I am still unsure if my Safaricom telephone works properly when dialed from the US. I dialed the number from a payphone in the compoud here, and it did ring, so it seems to be working properly. I guess I won’t really know until I get a call from outside the country.

Having skipped lunch, I was eager for dinner at the hostel. It was basic but good: some sort of meat (goat?), steamed potatoes and steamed broccoli, a tasty soup, salad, rice, and fresh pineapple for dessert. I also had tea afterward with the pineapple. The food is quite bland – virtually no spices at all except for some salt, and salt is the only thing provided on the table. The sugar for tea and coffee is very good – raw sugar (not bleached) from sugar cane. Tea and coffee here are excellent thus far.

Tomorrow I need to be ready to be picked up at 8:00 a.m. Orientation begins officially at 9:00 a.m. at Tangaza College. Meanwhile, I am reading The Garland Handbook of African Music edited by Ruth M. Stone. It is a survey textbook of African musical history and styles, but it so far leans toward West Africa. While some of the basic concepts will certainly be relevant, I don’t think there will be any specific examples of East African music in the book. Oh well – I’ll be trying to hear those on my own very soon.

After seeing downtown Nairobi today, I am especially grateful for the haven provided by Flora Hostel. While it is plain and certainly not luxurious by Western standards, it is relatively quiet, comfortable, and, most of all, safe. Going between here and Tangaza should be manageable. However, I do think I am learning where my limits are as a Westerner accustomed to certain creature comforts. Were I to return to Kenya in the future, I suspect that I would be willing to pay premium prices for the hotels and services that cater to Westerners. It is interesting to learn about the scope of one’s comfort zone…

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Hooray! I was able to access e-mail today! The connection at Tangaza College is rather stable and fairly fast, so at least three days a week, I’ll be able to correspond by e-mail there. Also, a fellow MIAS student, Charles Brock, is staying at the nearby Anglican Guest House, which has a cybercafe. He seemed to think that it would be fine if I used it as well. Charles is a student at the Virginia Theological Seminary, finishing his M.Div. degree in preparation for ordination as an Anglican priest. We are both navigating our first trip to Kenya, so we have much in common.

Today was a better day in many respects. Although I woke up last night at 1am, 3am, and 5am, I was able to get back to sleep each time, so I felt fairly well rested today. Also, getting the program started was a relief. The haven provided by Tangaza College is wonderful, and it was good to meet my fellow students in the immersion course. We had two sessions of general overview of African culture and an introduction to fieldwork. Then we toured Nairobi on a private bus for about 2.5 hours, including a stop at a very large open-air market (noisy, crowded, chaotic and a bit scary, but much better in a group with guides). At the market I bought a small Maasai painted leather shield and a small carved wooden hippo as souvenirs (grand total, KSh 900, or about $11). The hippo has taken up residence on my desk. I believe it will eventually need a name. We also toured around Lang’ata and Westlands, which are affluent parts of Nairobi, the city center (drove through without stopping, so not quite the baptism by fire I had yesterday), and then we drove through Kibera, one of the world’s largest slums. It was really beyond description – no sanitation, rusting corrugated tin roofs on mud huts or buildings cobbled together from whatever materials could be found, mounds of garbage and open sewers intermittently here and there. I took a few photos surreptitiously from the bus, because although I didn’t want to obviously gawk at the people there, the scene was really quite unbelievable. Also, just as we left the edge of the slum, we stopped and got off the bus for an overview, and I took several photos of that perspective.

After the tour, we returned to Tangaza College about 4pm and had soft drinks. There is already a good sense of camaraderie developing between students and field assistants, and in retrospect, I am glad that I had a one-day head start in meeting Maurice yesterday. I also met a student, Francis, a Christian Brother (not LaSalle) from England, who is in his third year of the MIAS program leading to the M.A. in African Studies who had Maurice as a field assistant during last year’s courses. It is clear that they developed a very good rapport during that time together.

Also, following the tour, I was able to buy the book we are using as a fieldwork guide, Participant Observation by James Spradley. I have read the first 11 of the assigned 25 pages, and will be getting back to that shortly. I’m also still working on The Garland Handbook of African Music, and hope to have digested much of that before I begin fieldwork on Saturday.

My first fieldwork experience will be to attend a somewhat ‘westernized’ traditional music performance on Saturday. Sister Loretta Brennan was kind enough to alert me to this opportunity. Apparently, the director studied in Florida on a Fullbright Scholarship, and when he came back, he formed an ensemble to do traditional music of Kenyan ethnic groups (Luo, Kikuyu, etc.), but in a form more readily adapted to concert performance. It will be interesting to discover what has been modified from purely traditional presentation. Maurice, who is Luo, will be a tremendous help in determining authentic use of instruments, and, of course, with the language of those pieces in Luo. Afterward, I hope to interview the director.

On Sunday, I will attend Mass at the Cathedral Basilica of the Holy Family (Holy Family Cathedral), the seat of the Archdiocese of Nairobi. I was able to go inside this church yesterday. It is an odd mix of unattractive, industrial concrete, large multi-pane stained glass windows (only an abstract spectrum of colors – no design as such), and a fine marble dais beneath the altar. The music should be interesting – Maurice said that it is more westernized than what one finds in smaller churches.

Tomorrow we begin our distinct courses, in my case “African Traditional Religion Interprets the Bible.” I’m looking forward to meeting my instructor for this course and focusing in on potential topics for my research integration paper.

Back to reading, which I’m pleased to have, since there is no television, and I don’t have a radio either. I wish I had brought more music loaded into iTunes. Oh well, I’ll add that to the long list of things I wish I had brought. On the other hand, in a triumph of preparedness, I did have a flashlight tonight when the power went out for about 20 minutes (and even extra batteries if the outage had been longer!).

(9:24 p.m.)

African Cultural Themes

2006-05-25T21:56:00.000-05:00

In preparing for my trip to Kenya in two days from now, I've been reading African Cultural Knowledge: Themes and Embedded Beliefs by Michael C. Kirwen (http://www.africancultures.org). The book looks at fifteen cultural themes found in most African societal traditions, and compiles responses and commentary by both African and non-African students of the Maryknoll Institute of African Studies in Nairobi over a number of years. Over a dozen African ethnic groups are represented, as well as Americans and Europeans.

One of the most interesting themes, or perhaps more accurately, meta-themes (as it ties together several related themes) is the regard for family and clan, and ties to ancestral places. As an American of European descent, the notion of a long, unbroken line of connection with one's ancestral place is a concept removed from my immediate cultural background. However, I suspect that many Americans yearn for this connectedness. This is why, I believe, genealogy has become such a popular hobby in the United States; it is an attempt to reconnect to a disrupted sense of continuity. In traditional African societies, removal from this connection to one's ancestors, family, and progeny, as well as to their places of origin, is particularly traumatic. There is a palpable sense that one's humanity is diminished by the loss of this continuity - indeed, it could be seen as a form of living death. The trauma of people displaced from traditional African societies (e.g., slaves brought to the New World) cannot be overstated.

I suppose, as the self-appointed genealogist of my own family, I have sensed some of this desire myself. The difference is that in African cultures, it is the norm, indeed a necessity. My own family, while they find my research interesting, are not driven to know more, to revere ancestors or learn more about them. We do not ritually name children after ancestors in the hope of keeping their spirit and traits alive. We do not worry about offending our ancestors by failing to observe traditions or doing things of which they would not approve.

It seems that the African perspective on family - and this extends to those living and deceased, from immediate family to extended family and clan - is a much more pervasive and complex social theme than that of the Western "nuclear family." It will be very interesting to see how this affects social structures, religion, and interpersonal relationships.

Only 2 days before I depart Boston to London and then Nairobi! I am excited to finish Fr. Kirwen's book, and even more excited to be in Africa, the truly native land of us all.

An Immigrant Story

2006-04-13T21:55:00.000-05:00

All of the recent discussion of immigration and various proposals in Congress for "guest workers," forced deportation, and the criminalization of undocumented aliens reminded me of the story of a typical immigrant. For the purposes of this writing, we'll call him Juan.

Juan arrived with his sister (we'll call her Elena) in America after a long journey that cost him his last penny and then some. His father and ailing mother back in his country could do little to help him financially, but the economic reality of his homeland made the perils of a journey to America seem like his best chance for a better life. So, with his elder sister, at the tender age of 23, Juan risked all to come to America.

With some help from the local immigrant community in Rhode Island, Juan was able to secure work. It was day labor at first, but eventually he was able to find factory work, which paid better. Most of his co-workers were also immigrants, but as luck would have it, they were from a country other than his, and spoke another language. Still, Juan worked hard, gained the respect of his boss, and eventually managed to move into a low-level supervisory position.

Meanwhile, Elena worked as a domestic servant for some of the wealthy American families in the city. She and her brother boarded in a marginal house, along with another two families. They made the best of it. The work was hard. There was no health insurance, no retirement plan, no benefits of any kind. There was only hard work for a minimal wage, but they were happy to have it. Things were certainly better here than what they had left behind in their country.

About four years after coming to America, Juan married a girl who had recently come to America from his country (we'll call her Catarina). They soon had a child, named Juan after his father, but an accidental burning led to the child's death at age two. There was really no medical care accessible to them, and had there been, perhaps the child would have lived. Another son was born three years later, and this boy was named after Juan's father, Miguel.

A few years later, Juan learned that his mother had died. His father, with his only two children in America, resolved to come and settle here to live out his years with his children and grandchildren (Miguel had been followed by three younger sisters by this time, with a fourth to come). The elder Miguel managed to make the journey, and lived out his final eight years surrounded by family, passing away at the age of 83.

Work at the factory was hard, and the difficult conditions coupled with the poor and increasingly cramped living situation, made Juan susceptible to disease. Eventually, he developed an upper respiratory infection that worsened steadily. With his family depending upon his factory income, and with no savings, he forced himself to continue working until he could no longer find the strength. By this time, his condition was grave. Within a few days, he died at the age of 53. His son, Miguel, was now 24, and it fell upon him to support his mother, aunt Elena, and four sisters.

But Miguel was an American citizen, the first of the family (apart from his elder brother, Juan, who died young) born in this country. He was proud of his country, and when the call went out for the defense of this nation, he enlisted in the Rhode Island National Guard, eventually being promoted to Sergeant.

Now, a few adjustments...

Let us remove the name changes. Juan's actual name was John. Miguel was really Michael, and Elena was actually Ellen, while Catarina was Catherine. The last name of the family was O'Shea, and the year John arrived in Rhode Island was 1881. These are my ancestors. This is my family.

When I consider the uproar over immigration today, I think on the tremendous adversity that my own family faced to come to the United States, to work in difficult conditions and carve out a new life for themselves. I remember how they, in so many ways, built the nation we have today. And, I remember that today's immigrants are doing the same thing, for the same reasons. Why must we assume that these immigrants will be any different? Why do we assume that their children won't cherish American citizenship, fight and die for this country, or become teachers, police officers, lawyers, or even President?

They are not different. They are simply the last to come through the door.

We should not ignore the security of our borders, nor should we grow complacent about reasonable procedures to make immigration orderly and to screen out criminals and those who would do us harm. But let us remember that we are overwhelmingly a nation of immigrants and their descendants, and those of us who arrived earlier should regard the newer arrivals with a modicum of humility, and a sense of awe that America still holds such an enduring promise of a better life for so many thousands upon thousands.

-PMÓS

Be afraid. OK, now don't be afraid.

2006-03-11T11:23:00.000-06:00

The Dubai Ports World deal, which now appears to have been scuttled (or at least redirected), illustrates one of the dangers of using vague threats of security breaches and xenophobia as tools for the placation of the American people. As described in my previous post, the present administration has, since 9/11, continually reminded us to be afraid, culminating in raising the spectre of a mushroom cloud over a major American city resulting from a nuclear attack by Islamic fundamentalists supported by Saddam Hussein (never mind that Hussein was not a supporter of such causes, that the nuclear program in Iraq had stalled a decade before the US invasion, or that the Baathist secular regime, while brutal, was antithetical to the world view of the Taliban and Al Qaeda). The message has been extremely consistent, reinforced with color-coded terror alerts and a steady stream of stories fed to the media.

Enter the Dubai ports deal. It is a marvel that those within the administration responsible for this transaction did not see the potential for political blowback. With most of the PR machinery of the Bush White House focused on painting Bush as a war president, holding back the barbarian hordes who would devour every American man, woman and child, the contracting of port operations to a corporation controlled by an Arab socialist state does seem like a rather clumsy move.

The reaction to Dubai Ports World is truly a matter of the administration falling prey to its own fear mongering. Indeed, the charge was led by conservative Republicans in Congress, who have become accustomed to riding the 'fear wave' set in motion after 9/11. Of course, the security of our borders and ports is a grave concern. Sadly, the same Republican-controlled congress that has reacted so violently to the Dubai deal has failed to allocate funding for increased inspections at US ports, where 96% of containers continue to pass through without inspection of any kind. It is, in fact, hard to imagine Dubai Ports World doing a less effective job on port security. They would, it seems likely, work much harder to ensure that their operations were secure, knowing that all eyes would be upon them.

What is at stake is a philosophical issue: Should US ports and borders be controlled by foreign companies (or, more significantly, foreign governments)? The response of virtually all Americans is "no." Still, we have a veritable United Nations conducting major port operations throughout the United States. The bottom line is that a combination of foreign operations and US-based security could work quite well, but the Dubai deal has raised the hackles of conservatives to such an extent that a sensible discussion of the real security and economic issues is no longer possible. Far more significant is the fact that port security remains the poor stepchild in the Homeland Security net, and following the money tells the tale.

Since 9/11/2001, some $18 billion has been spent to improve airport security. US ports have received a total of $630 million, or 3.5% of that figure, for security improvements. Given the volume of container traffic, and our reliance on this means of shipping for a tremendous range of consumer goods, the operation of US ports is absolutely critical to the health of the US economy. The cost of increasing security while not slowing operations is considerable, and clearly needs to climb on the priority scale. Yes, it is true that most Americans will fly a commercial airline, while most will not board a container ship. However, an astounding percentage of items in the average American household arrived via those same containers.

It also seems that the Bush Administration does not pay too much attention to popular culture, particularly Hollywood. No, I'm not suggesting that Brokeback Mountain holds any lessons for national security, but it might be instructive to consider the Tom Clancy novel adaptation, The Sum of All Fears. While some of the movie is clearly fanciful (Neo-Nazis armed with nuclear weapons does seem a bit far-fetched), the method of delivery of the nuclear weapon in the film is plausible. The bomb is loaded on a cargo ship in the port of Haifa, Israel, and makes its way to Baltimore. I'm not sufficiently versed in the mechanics of nuclear weapons to know if one could really hide a warhead in a vending machine, but just blowing it up on board the ship once it reaches the port would certainly be effective, especially if it were a large warhead.

Port security does matter. Sadly, the level of suspicion and concern directed toward the Dubai Ports World arrangement seems more a byproduct of the general culture of fear cultivated by the Bush administration rather than the specific security issues raised by DPW. The paradox, of course, is that the administration supported the deal, and was entirely blindsided by the knee-jerk negative reaction that they themselves guaranteed would occur. Democrats have gleefully piled on, sensing the political opening, but they should take care in doing so. It is the culture of fear that is the greatest danger to our civil liberties, and while it is certainly tempting to exploit a perceived weakness, the long-term consequences of stoking the fires of fear include a strengthening of those who wield fear as a weapon to erode civil liberties and quiet even the most sensible dissent or objection, as well as an increase in ethnic tensions, racism, and xenophobia.

Being afraid, in and of itself, never made any individual or nation safer. Genuine concern that leads to sensible precautions, practical security measures, and thoughtful planning is positive and useful. Fear for its own sake ultimately makes us less safe, and at the same time less human. In any survival training, the first lesson is to control your fear - panic will inevitably lead to your demise. A nation that is motivated by fear, or a population that is controlled by it, cannot expect to sustain a free society, or look forward to a bright and prosperous future.

-PMÓS

1984 Echo

2006-02-09T09:49:00.000-06:00

In hearing recent speeches by George Bush, including this morning's address concerning the necessity of warrantless domestic surveillance, I am uncomfortably reminded of George Orwell's novel, 1984. Indeed, one could read passages of the novel as a sort of Neoconservative playbook. Unfortunately for the Neocons, it seems that radical Islamic fundamentalists are following the same game plan. I'm not sure if we are supposed to be Oceania or Eurasia or Eastasia in this unfolding perpetual war, but the increasing arrogance of the Bush Administration has set us on a path toward repression of civil liberties and a culture in which those who refuse to wear the ideological blinders of the far right are shouted down as unpatriotic, unintelligent, or even subversive.

The most resonant and persistent claim of the Neoconservative policy makers, parroted by President Bush in speech after speech, is that we are at war, and that it is not a 'traditional war.' (We could have guessed this by the fact that Congress has made no declaration of war.) Indeed, it is a "new" kind of war, and as such it has no objective measure of victory or defeat, and this is extremely useful for those who wish to tug on the strings of fear in American hearts. When the population becomes too independent in thought or too divergent from Neoconservative policy, we are reminded to once again be afraid. It is what French author Bruno Tertrais labeled "War Without End," which is the title of the English version of his book-length essay, La Guerre sans fin: L'Amerique dans l'engrenage (Editions du Seuil, Paris, 2004, English translation 2005, The New Press). Penned in 2003, Tertrais' monograph was a cautionary note from a genuine friend of America, suggesting that the optimistic hubris of the Iraq war's early days was likely to be frustrated as the conflict and occupation continued. Of course, we now can see the writing as insightful and nearly prophetic.

And so, we are at war - a special type of war that is defined far more by the administration's rhetoric than by military reality. As of this writing, there have been 2260 U.S. military deaths in Iraq, with a few more every day or every other day. Progress against the insurgency remains poorly defined, and Bush's assertion that we are "creating an inclusive democracy which will ease tensions" is certainly more marketing for U.S. consumption than it is a statement of fact. Iraq remains three distinct states ethnically and politically, and even the most optimistic analysts with a grasp of reality predict significant problems in bringing a functioning Iraqi government to fruition.

In truth, none of that matters in the Orwellian playbook. In fact, the only requirement is that there be some sort of war. The reality of its progress and the identity of the enemy are incidental. Consider the following from Chapter 9 of 1984:

Even the humblest Party member is expected to be competent, industrious, and even intelligent within narrow limits, but it is also necessary that he should be a credulous and ignorant fanatic whose prevailing moods are fear, hatred, adulation, and orgiastic triumph. In other words it is necessary that he should have the mentality appropriate to a state of war. It does not matter whether the war is actually happening, and, since no decisive victory is possible, it does not matter whether the war is going well or badly. All that is needed is that a state of war should exist.

Of course, the above is an extreme version, but it is not difficult to see a much milder version of the above happening. "Don't forget, be afraid! They could hit us again!" If you are forced to live in a mentality appropriate to a state of war, you are willing to sacrifice independence, freedom, and comfort in order to support the cause of war. The above quote is also interesting in that "fanatic" is the word that truncates to "fan" in reference to enthusiasts for large-scale sporting events. Perhaps this is why the Bush Administration has been so successful in promoting the Iraq war. It is cast as the ultimate spectator sport - a high-stakes "us vs. them" clash, and we are encouraged to back our team all the way to victory. Ironically, it is a victory that cannot happen, or at least cannot be achieved in any absolute terms.

I'm not suggesting that there is no nobility in sacrifice. The individual sacrifice of members of the military and their families is indeed inspiring. Unfortunately, the conflict in which they give so selflessly is flawed in its conception. There are other forms of sacrifice that are more urgently needed. Clearly, the citizens of the United States could stand to give up some of our habits that damage the environment and consume an inordinate proportion of the world's resources. We could certainly stand to conserve energy and reduce our reliance on foreign oil and gas, but these positive expressions of sacrifice are grounded in economic realities, and perhaps even genuine altruism. Giving up the 4th Amendment for an illusory sense of security is another matter entirely. Isn't that freedom, that way of life, what our military should ultimately be defending? I do not see Iraqis or even Al Qaeda attempting to change U.S. freedoms or our basic constitutional rights. Our own government is at work on that front.

The demonization of the "enemy" has a long tradition in warfare. I would like to think that killing fellow human beings is not a natural act, and as such it requires a certain amount of conditioning or extraordinary circumstances. Historically, war is an extraordinary circumstance. This is not to say that war is a rarity, per se, but that it is not the default lifestyle of humanity. It is only now, with this "new war" that we are facing a perpetual state of war with no predictable end state. For this to be so, the enemy must be ever-present, inhuman in his desire for our destruction, and incapable of reasoning or negotiation. Again, Orwell provides the perfect description in Chapter 3 of 1984:

The enemy of the moment always represented absolute evil, and it followed that any past or future agreement with him was impossible.

Paradoxically, in 1984, the enemy abruptly is changed, and the former enemy suddenly becomes an ally. All that matters is that Authority designates an enemy to be loathed and feared. If a nation or group is designated as the enemy, past agreements, alliances, or treatys with that nation cannot have been valid. This seems ridiculous on the surface, and yet, if an individual is designated as a suspected terrorist, he or she can be detained, questioned (and let us not even go into the matter of interrogation techniques), denied legal counsel, and imprisoned indefinitely. How great a leap is it from the complete disregard for individual rights and legal due process to the arbitrary labeling of any nation or group as the enemy, regardless of past alliance, cooperation, or congruity of outlook? And, conversely, how simple is it to designate a nation or group as our ally, in spite of their spawning terrorists, tolerating militant fundamentalism or even allowing the transfer of funding and weapons to those who would harm us? There must be a more objective measure than the word of a president or the tired repetition of a demonstrably bankrupt political ideology.

Where does this lead us? The prediction is beyond bleak, at least according to Orwell. We are a long way from the society of joyless automatons who bend all effort to war, and who do so merely to waste surplus productivity that they may remain sufficiently deprived to ever develop any measure of comfort, and breathing space in which independent thought might evolve. But there is a disquieting echo in current events of Orwell's concern. He was predicting the ultimate stalemate of the Cold War, which we thankfully have avoided, but "war without end" is certainly possible. In fact, the "War on Terror" would have been far more to the liking of the rulers of Oceania. In this scenario, Big Brother can designate an ever-shifting enemy. If the enemy happens to be defeated in one arena, a successor can readily be found. The system is completely flexible and scalable, bending to the fear-producing needs of Authority, convincing the populace to surrender freedoms in the hope of security. It is the perfect Orwellian enemy, and taken to its extreme, it leads to the perfect Orwellian society:

There will be no laughter, except the laugh of triumph over a defeated enemy. There will be no art, no literature, no science. When we are omnipotent we shall have no more need of science. There will be no distinction between beauty and ugliness. There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. But always -- do not forget this, Winston -- always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face -- for ever. (Chapter 3, 1984)

Proceeding even a short distance down that path should be, for any American who loves freedom, intolerable.

-PMÓS

Cognitive Complexity and Ethical Development: A Suprareligious Moral Paradigm

2006-01-21T12:33:00.000-06:00

Note: This essay was first published in TELICOM, the journal of the International Society for Philosophical Enquiry in February, 2001 (Volume XV, No. 4).

It has often been stated that more evil had been done in the name of God than for any other cause. Incongruous as this statement may be with the expressed ideals of most major world religions, there is indeed merit in the assertion. One need only consider the Crusades, to give but one example, to see the potential for perverting the human desire to achieve what is "good" into a bloody and futile act.

One of the key catalysts to this misdirection of positive impulses has been the reliance of organized religions on two basic organizational principles: 1) the establishment of a set of “rules," according to which human beings are measured; and 2) a hierarchy designed to interpret and somehow ‘enforce' those rules, whether physical or other forms of punishment, or by the application of societal pressures designed to elicit conformity. The combined religious-societal structures, and their attendant inducements to conformity and consequences for non-conformity, are sometimes described as systems of ‘morality.’ They are, essentially, a complex set of rules, with multiple levels of reward and punishment, aimed at regulating the behavior of those in a particular society.

Unfortunately, such systems are inherently flawed, because they rely on the human imposition and interpretation of whatever set of 'rules' is established. When one realizes this, one is tempted to draw the same conclusion as Richard Clews does in his opinion piece in the present issue of Telicom, i.e., that all systems of morality are entirely arbitrary artifacts of societal organization, and, as such, are intellectually bankrupt, having no independent logic or basis in natural order.

And yet religious expression has been a spontaneous aspect of every civilization humans have created - indeed, religious expression far predates mankind's organization into large-scale, identifiable civilizations. In grade school, we were taught that civilization was defined by three elements: 1. surplus of food, 2. division of labor, and 3. the building of cities. I would add to this list Religious Expression, and, in fact, suggest that it should have the status of a prerequisite to the first three criteria.

Why should beings that have invested so much evolutionary capital in the development of higher cognitive functions be so devoted to religious or ethical systems? What is it about our intellectual divergence from other animals that leads to an innate need for a system of good and evil? Or, perhaps more accurately, what does our intellect allow us to perceive about the absolute order of nature that leads to the establishment of ethical systems?

Ethical systems have their origins in the distinctly human ability to make reasoned choices. It is this human ability that forces us to establish a framework within which we make decisions. Essentially, we must develop our own ethical world - create ourselves, in effect. As Charles Kammer observes:

This self-creation, then, is the essence of morality. We can make decisions about our own nature, what we are and what we will become. Morality is thus the embodying of particular values and options in ourselves and in our communities. Granted, not all our values and options are directly moral (e.g., health, wealth, beauty, control of the environment); still all these values and options, to the extent that they determine the shape of our humanity, have moral effects...According to the above understanding of morality, we are all, inescapably, moral persons. We must all choose, and choose continually, what we are and what we will do.

If we accept that we are ethical beings by nature, we are inevitably led to compare our ethical nature with the other quality that sets us apart from other members of the animal kingdom: our intellect. A discussion of the extraordinary physical investment that humans have made in the development of our brains is beyond the scope of this writing. It is sufficient to state that our ability to think, plan, and contemplate the nature of our very existence is inextricably linked with the expression of our will - the expression of choice. Thus, as thinking beings, we are ethical beings.

The cognitive/ethical connection does not, however, suggest any proportional correlation between these two facets of human experience. As with all human abilities, ethical sense and intellectual prowess are distributed unevenly in the population. Of the two, intelligence has clearly been studied more objectively, however imperfectly. The objective study of ethical sense, however, has been historically hobbled by arbitrary systems of religious rules. If we attempt to strip away the artifacts of religious dogma, we may begin to see that human beings respond to ethical challenges on a scale, much as they respond to cognitive challenges. In fact, one might even suggest that ethical intelligence be added to Gardner's system of nine "multiple intelligences.”

The labeling of ethical sense as a form of intelligence has merit beyond the simple association of ethics and intelligence as defining human traits. The most important commonality between the measurement of ethical intelligence and more familiar cognitive abilities is the concept of levels of complexity. In effect, the measurement of both ethical and cognitive ability is dependent upon facility with and command of levels of complexity. To a considerable degree, cognitive complexity and ethical complexity draw upon the same higher order functions, though it may be said that ethical complexity typically presents challenges that do not readily lend themselves to objective "right or wrong” solutions. This is perhaps why some highly intelligent people remain relatively undeveloped in an ethical sense; they develop a mastery of mathematical or other systems in the pursuit of order, while exhibiting a poor tolerance of the unresolved complexity of difficult ethical challenges.

In 1990, Ernest McDaniel and Chris Lawrence of Purdue University developed a graduated complexity model in their monograph, Levels of Cognitive Complexity: An Approach to the Measurement of Thinking (New York: Springer-Verlag). Their approach presented a five-level system of cognitive complexity, applied to essays written by students on a given theme. In analyzing the writing samples, the authors attempted to identify and characterize specific “markers" or organizational principles suggestive of a certain level of cognitive ability. The levels that McDaniel and Lawrence defined are the following:

Levels of Cognitive Complexity

Level 1: Unilateral Descriptions

The student: Simplifies the situation. Focuses on one idea or argument. Does not identify alternatives. Brings in no new information, meaning, or perspectives. Makes good/bad and either/or assertions. Appeals to authority or simple rules. Simply paraphrases, restates or repeats information.

Level 2: Simplistic Alternatives

Identifies simple and obvious conflicts, but the conflicts are not pursued or analyzed. Develops a position by dismissing or ignoring one alternative and supporting the other with assertions and simple explanations rather than by making a deeper assessment of the situation.

Level 3: Emergent Complexity

The Student: Identifies more than one possible explanation or perspective. Establishes and preserves complexity. Introduces new elements. Supports position through comparisons and simple causal statements.

Level 4: Broad Interpretations

The student: Uses broad ideas to help define and interpret the situation. Manipulates ideas within the perspective established. Has a clearly recognizable explanatory theme. Integrates ideas into “subassemblies,” each supporting a component of the explanation.

Level 5: Integrated Analysis

The student: Restructures or reconceptualizes the situation and approaches the problem from a new point of view. Constructs a network of cause-and-effect relationships. Integrates and extrapolates ideas. Arrives at new interpretations by analogy, application of principles, generalizations, and world knowledge. Constructs an organizing framework, sketches connections, and predicts consequences.

Proponents of psychometrics according to the models of Binet or Wechsler might criticize the above system as too subjective and difficult to quantify. It is, of course, true that the above five levels do not yield a convenient bell curve, nor do they allow for fine gradations or extreme levels of selectivity. Their subjective nature, significantly, results at least in part from the catalyst used to generate the writing samples in question.

Students were asked to interpret two presentations, one on the Holocaust, and another entitled The Bomb Factories (detailing a nuclear arms facility in the American west that was important to Cold War weapons production, but which later caused extreme environmental damage, and severe health problems among local residents and plant workers). In each presentation, considerable details of societal and historical factors were presented along with the documentation of the tragedies associated with both scenarios.

The most important aspect of the above topics is that each poses a complex ethical challenge. This unintended dimension of the project did indeed produce responses that may be categorized according to levels of “cognitive complexity,” as defined by the authors, but in addition to this, the responses may be interpreted along a continuum of ethical development. Ethical complexity and cognitive complexity, then, share at least some common ground.

To be sure, McDaniel and Lawrence were not the first to suggest multiple levels of cognitive development. The way a person's conceptual system “mediates the perception of and interactions with the environment” was explored by Schroder, Driver and Streufert (1967). Their study outlined three broad levels of integrative complexity:

Low Integration Index

• Categorical, black & white thinking
• Minimization of conflict.
• The anchoring of behavior in external conditions.
• Abrupt and compartmentalized shifts in categorizations.

Moderate Integration Index:

• Movement away from absolutism.
• Emergence of primitive internal causation.
• Ambivalence and lack of consistency in decision making.
• Dominance of one perceptual organization over alternative organizations.
• Pushing against present or alternative schemas.

High Integration Index:

• A less deterministic system.
• The simultaneous perception of the situation from two points of view.
• Greater use of internal processes in generating possibilities.

It is not difficult to see that McDaniel and Lawrence have elaborated a five-level system based upon the skeletal three-level scheme detailed above.

Returning to the McDaniel/Lawrence study, let us examine some sample responses from one of the exercises. The presentation The Holocaust consisted of a 14-minute video tape and several pages of printed material on the mass extermination of Jews by the Nazi regime (the video was a greatly condensed version of Genocide, a one-hour film produced by the Simon Wiesenthal Center). Background is provided on the economic hardships leading up to Hitler’s selection of the Jews as a scapegoat, and there are scenes of life in the ghettos, the murder of Jewish civilians behind the lines and the atrocities of the concentration camps. Following the presentation, students were asked to respond in writing to five questions giving them the opportunity to organize and interpret the material presented. One such question was, “Could a tragedy like this one happen again?”

Scoring the response was relatively easy at the lower levels, but more difficult at the upper levels. The following exemplars illustrate responses at each of the five McDaniel/Lawrence levels:

Level One (Simple Absolutes)

"No, I don’t believe this will ever happen again. I’m sure that if something as inhumane as this started to happen the U.S. will step in and stop it.”

Two (Simple Causal Network)

"I think people today value human life more. If this did reoccur, I believe it would be stopped once someone knew what was going on.”

Level Three (Multiple Causal Network)

"I think that the memory of Holocaust will live forever, and people will be on the look-out for rising leaders such as Hitler. Foreign countries would probably intervene much quicker if a situation like this happened again.”

Level Four (Causal Network with Subassemblies)

“No, I don’t believe a tragedy on this scale could happen again. There are too many checks and balances between countries and their citizens for this to happen again. No country is faced with the same problems Germany was faced with back then. (At least not to the same extent.) There is no reason for this to happen again. I also believe that hindsight will help our (and other nations’) foresight. I don't believe that any nation would stand for this happening again.”

Level Five (Synthesis and Analogy)

"As an eternal optimist, I hope that this could never happen again. However, what has been done in 40 years to change humans from allowing another Holocaust from happening? The same reasons of fear, depression, and prejudice have not been taken away from our society. People always want someone to blame. Whether it is the witches in Salem during the 1700s or Communists in Washington during the 1950s, we often take our fears and act viciously because of them. Until we are truly able to accept different people and ideas, there will still be the slight possibility that it could happen again.”

With very little adjustment, we may cast the levels of “cognitive complexity” as levels of “ethical development." In some cases, there is almost an exact correlation.

Levels of Ethical Development

Pre-Ethical State

Choices are made entirely on the basis of self-gratification or physical need. Infants and very young children are representative of this stage.

Level One: Absolutism

Ethical decisions are framed in an inflexible system of right/wrong, according to a set of Rules dictated by Authority. "Good" is defined by the degree to which one conforms to the set Rules.

Level Two: Anti-Absolutism

A stage marked by rebellion against the imposed Rules. Imperfections or inconsistencies in the established set or Rules or uneven enforcement or interpretation by Authority leads to a rejection of individual Rules, or, in extreme cases, a complete rejection of the entire system of Rules. If right/wrong or good/bad cannot be defined absolutely, there must be no validity in those concepts, and consequently, nothing is inherently right or wrong. Temporary (or, in rare cases, permanent) reversion to the Pre-Ethical State is possible.

Level Three: Emergent Relativism

Simple alternatives to strict absolutism are developed. The concept of a decision being “more wrong” than another emerges. The possibility that Rules may be in opposition to that which is "good" is first considered. The ability to consider other points of view emerges.

Level Four: Multiple Perspectives

The ability to perceive an ethical question from multiple perspectives simultaneously is exhibited. Analysis and comparison of competing points of view. Willingness to tolerate dissonance between value systems.

Level Five: Ethical Synthesis

Multiple simultaneous ethical perspectives are examined and recombined according to broader, overarching principles. Harmony is sought between dissonant value systems. An understanding of "the good,” independent of external rules, is evident. Elements of divergent value systems are viewed as ethical subsystems supporting a broader concept of “the good."

As with the cognitive levels of McDaniel and Lawrence, examples of the lower levels are relatively easy to document. Advancement to levels four and five are sufficiently rare to make their observation less common and their characterization more problematic. Interestingly, the Levels of Ethical Development tend to coincide with levels of cognitive development in children and adolescents (at least in levels One through Three). However, one may find examples of every Level in all age groups. And, while the correlation between intelligence and ethical development has yet to be documented, there are plausible impediments to ethical development to the highest levels among those of below average intelligence.

It should be noted that this essay has not been offered to invalidate or challenge the role of organized religions. In fact, the author asserts that the ethical systems represented by major world religions provide an important framework within which we may better understand our roles as inherently ethical beings. Rather than as a substitute for religion, the Levels of Ethical Development are offered as a suprareligious scale upon which we may plot our level of ethical advancement. Where organized religion is a vehicle for ethical development, it may be said to further the cause of the good. Where organized religion is in opposition to ethical development, it may be seen as an impediment. In either case, the role of the individual human being in the development of ethical self-awareness and advancement is paramount.

As with all scales attempting to measure subjective qualities of the human experience, the Levels of Ethical Development are not perfect or absolute, nor do they take into account those extraordinary human beings who possess abilities transcending the measurements or definitions offered. Such individuals light the way to our potential as a species, moving beyond what Kammer calls our fundamental humanity (i.e., our human needs, representing the physical reality from which we build our humanity), into the realm of our potential humanity:

Our fundamental humanity is a reflection of the structure of our common humanity and so serves as a basis for a shared, common ethic such as that described in the Universal Covenant on Human Rights. Our potential humanity, by contrast, presents itself as a question, an opening onto the future. What we can and should become is not self-evident.

This question is what drives us to seek an ethical framework for our behavior, for our very existence. As we contemplate the future, we must decide what we wish that future to bring, for us and for those who come after us. If that future is to be one of tolerance and harmony, we must approach the understanding of that ethical framework as a synthesis of principles that affirm humanity and its relation to Nature, or God, or the Cosmos, depending upon one’s understanding of the Eternal or the Universal. Such a synthesis is, of course, a daunting challenge, but it is one that we must face. It is our very nature to do so.

Vanishing Context: The Extinction of Liberal Arts Education

2006-01-14T17:26:00.000-06:00

Note: This essay was first published in TELICOM, the journal of the International Society for Philosophical Enquiry (ISPE), Vol. XV, No. 1 (October/November, 2000). Please contact the author if you desire a copy with complete notes.

In June 1972, the Carnegie Commission on Higher Education issued a report entitled “Reform On Campus: Changing Students, Changing Academic Programs.” The report made observations and recommendations concerning several facets of higher education at that time, including student and faculty satisfaction, diversity, teaching effectiveness, relevancy of the curriculum, and the state of ‘general education,’ which it preferred to call the “broad learning experience.” The authors of the report clearly sounded a note of alarm:

One of the hallmarks of higher education, historically, in the United States has been its emphasis on what has been called a “liberal” or “general” education, on preparing the student for citizenship and for the noncareer aspects of life. But general education is now in trouble. What was once our greatest success is now becoming our greatest failure. A tendency is now developing that urges that general education be abandoned altogether and that students be allowed to take anything they want–provided they take one or two years in doing so. The Commission regrets this new tendency to relinquish concern for general education.

Unfortunately, this very strong statement, found in the digest of the report, is not reflected in the language of the relevant recommendation:

The Commission recommends that consideration should be given to establishing campus by campus a series of coherent options for a broad learning experience among which students may choose (p. 45).

The above tepid recommendation hardly rises to the level of urgency of the first quote, and, in fact, seems to contradict it. In the first instance the Commission “regrets this new tendency to relinquish concern for general education,” which is evidenced by students being “allowed to take anything they want.” In the second passage, the ‘concern’ seems to have completely evaporated, and “general education” is replaced with the euphemism “broad learning experience,” with the further recommendation for “coherent options...among which students may choose.” Why the seeming reversal within the context of the very same report?

The answer lies in the another subject area of the report: “The ‘Relevant’ Curriculum.” Quoting once again from the digest of the report:

A good working definition of relevance might be: courses that relate directly to actual personal interests of students and to current societal problems. Relevance includes special programs as, for example, those that relate to ethnic groups, to the new emphasis on creative arts, to the establishment of more problem-oriented courses, to new concerns for the environment, and to the student’s understanding of himself and his place in society.

In fairness, it should be observed that the Commission attempted to make broad recommendations and identify general trends. The report seems to advocate a balance between the continuation and strengthening of general education, while embracing additional courses with a more pragmatic basis. Unfortunately, it appears that in the almost three decades since the report, the “Relevant Curriculum” has gained the upper hand at the considerable expense of general education (or “the broad learning experience”).

We now find ourselves in the midst of a true crisis in higher education, which extends to secondary, and even primary, grades. The teaching of a common core of knowledge and academic skills has been largely supplanted by less rigorous courses, highly specialized vocational training, and courses advocating particular minority perspectives or social agendas. It is important to state that all of these courses and perspectives do indeed have a place in academe. The crisis stems not from their inclusion, but rather from the lack of an academic and cultural framework within which more complex and even controversial material may be interpreted.

As a case in point, consider the difficulty of teaching any specialized, discipline-specific history course without a general appreciation of the history of western civilization or the world in general. I face this problem constantly in teaching music history, a two-semester sequence covering the history of music in western civilization from ancient Greece to the present day. Of course, given only two semesters, the depth of the course content cannot be extensive, but a broad overview can theoretically be achieved. However, the success of establishing this broad overview depends heavily on the ability of students to relate discipline-specific developments and important historical figures to an underlying familiarity with western civilization.

Increasingly, students enter the university without even a rudimentary mastery of the history of western civilization. Consequently, much more time is spent teaching history in general, and the effectiveness of discipline-specific instruction is severely limited. Instead of focusing on composers, musical genres, and larger aesthetic trends, I must teach the significance of the Norman Conquest, the invention of the printing press, and the French Revolution. The teaching of music history becomes an incidental adjunct to what is now essentially a remedial course in western civilization.

While the above admittedly subjective account may be dismissed as unscientific, a recent study by the National Association of Scholars is more compelling. In their 1999 report, “The Dissolution of General Education: 1914-1993,” the subjective suspicions of many faculty members are supported by a disturbing trend in the reduction of general education requirements, particularly in the last thirty years:

The prevalent unwillingness to set priorities within general education programs, together with the growing disinclination to insist on rigorous standards for completing them, suggest that undergraduate general education has become substantially devalued as an institutional objective. It also indicates that most institutions are no longer seriously committed to ensuring that their students are exposed to broad surveys of basic subject matter.

In drawing the above conclusions, the NAS examined the course catalogs of fifty top-ranked colleges, evaluating the curricular requirements leading to a bachelor of arts degree for each of four years spanning the twentieth century (1914, 1939, 1964, and 1993). Curricula were evaluated based on three principal criteria: structure, content, and rigor.

The findings indicated that a steady degradation of structure (i.e., limitation of choices allowed in fulfilling the general education requirement) occurred between 1914 and 1964, but that between 1964 and 1993 certain aspects of structure (in particular, courses requiring prerequisites) all but collapsed. In examining content, a similar steep decline between 1964 and 1993 (following a gradual decline between 1914 and 1964) was revealed in the number of institutions requiring courses in the key areas of English Composition, Foreign Languages, History, Literature, Philosophy, Social Science, Natural Science, and Mathematics.

Perhaps most distressing was the clear evidence of precipitously falling academic standards, termed “rigor” by the NAS report. A trend toward the creation of special courses for “non-majors” in math and the sciences has been especially evident between 1964 and 1993, and exceptions from any number of academic requirements (foreign language, mathematics, natural sciences, and even English composition) have become far more frequent since 1964. Also of note was the fact that some 50 percent of the schools examined in 1939 and 1964 required a comprehensive examination or thesis for all students receiving a bachelor of arts degree. This number had been reduced to 12 percent by 1993.

The general trends identified in the NAS report are echoed in the affiliated Arizona Association of Scholars report of October 2000: “The Dissolution of General Education: A Review of Arizona’s Three State Universities’ Programs of Study and Degree Requirements.” The concerns identified in the NAS report, particularly high percentages of student-selected courses and pervasive substitution of less rigorous courses to satisfy relaxed general education requirements, are clearly in evidence. In fact, the only courses impossible to avoid in the curriculum for general studies degrees at Arizona State University are English composition and multiculturalism. Northern Arizona University and the University of Arizona fared only slightly better, requiring 3 credit hours of math and 4 credit hours of lab sciences at NAU, and 3 courses in natural sciences and one course in mathematics at the U of A.

The picture painted by the above examinations of both public and private colleges is that of an ‘educational buffet,’ where students may pick and choose their courses based purely on personal interest or the path of least resistance. And, to continue the analogy, the ‘nutritional value’ of their selections is wanting. An additional contributing factor has been, in recent years, the increasing tendency to present higher education as a “product” rather than a complex process. An increasing number of schools offer four-year graduation “guarantees” and emphasize an ever-growing array of extracurricular programs, athletics perhaps most visible among them. American colleges and universities have, in many respects, become four-year resorts for older adolescents, marketed under the thin veneer of an evaporating educational mission. Fortunately, not all colleges and universities have succumbed completely to the notion of education as product, but an almost herculean effort will be necessary to reverse the trend.

Much would be gained by replacing the paradigm of education commodity with education community. Universities evolved from the close-knit, religiously-grounded scholastic communities of the Middle Ages. While religious associations are today only appropriate in the cases of private institutions with particular religious affiliations, the concept of a community of learners is as relevant today as it was nearly one thousand years ago. In fact, the idea stretches back at least to Plato’s Academy, founded in 387 BCE (and which lasted until its suppression by the Emperor Justinian in 529 CE, nearly 1000 years later). The amazing cohesion of the Athenian Platonic and Neoplatonic schools stems from a commonality of purpose, participation in specific rituals and ceremonies, and a mutual respect for each student’s individual process of development, while acknowledging the accomplishments and wisdom of the Academy’s teachers. The presently fashionable term “student-centered” is perhaps best understood in the context of a learning community. In other words, “student-centered” does not equal “student-run” or “student-designed.” Rather, it should reflect a fundamental concern for the development of the student as an independent thinker and respect for the student as a member of a learning community.

We find echoes of Neoplatonism in many traditions, including Islam, Judaism, and Christianity. Here is perhaps the finest example of a culturally homogeneous educational institution embracing students from all ethnic backgrounds and contributing in turn to a multitude of cultural heritages.

Returning to the present, some may use the weakening of general education as ammunition against multiculturalism in higher education. Opponents of multiculturalism fear a weakening of the “common culture” of America - a culture that had been so successful in the wake of World War II. The proponents, however, sought (and still seek) to address fundamental imbalances in the power structure of American society. Clinging to their entrenched positions, both groups have been guilty of inconsistency. As Benjamin Baez observes:

In retrospect, the concerns voiced on both sides were fraught with contradictions. On the one hand, the opponents of curricular change, in lamenting threats to the American cultural tradition, seemed oblivious to the diversity of that tradition. On the other, proponents of curricular change sought to put forth alternatives to the Western tradition in the undergraduate curriculum. But because they saw the alternatives as just as valid as the Western tradition, their actions amounted to an attempt to replace it altogether. In other words, they advocated for the equality with Western tradition of the texts and values of non-Western cultures, as well as those of women, homosexuals, the physically disabled, and other “others.”

Realistically, American institutions of higher education must understand that they are products of an essentially western cultural heritage. As such, an overview of that heritage is certainly relevant in the undergraduate curriculum, and this tradition is closely tied to the so-called ‘liberal arts,’ those aspects of learning necessary for the education of a free citizen (liber meaning “free”). Regardless of the diversity of the society, the need for broadly educated citizens remains constant. Multicultural and social issues courses can be more effectively interpreted when presented in the context of at least a basic understanding of history, aesthetics, literature, mathematics, and science. Without a firm foundation, such courses themselves become the student’s only context, and eclipse a more measured understanding of their content.

In addition to a return to the liberal arts in the general education curriculum, including a carefully designed core of sequenced courses, American colleges and universities must work to disallow course substitutions and exemptions which weaken the integrity of the general education core. Further, the concept of ‘scaffolding,’ now being touted in public education as a ‘new’ idea, must be returned to general education; courses must be presented in a logical sequence so that foundational knowledge and concepts lead naturally to more complex topics and elaboration. Such a logical sequence is, of course, not new at all, but again may be traced to Platonic educational theory, where a noetic model is espoused (i.e., pedagogy which parallels cognitive development).

Finally, there must be absolute standards required for graduation. At a bare minimum, the general education core must be satisfactorily passed without course exemptions and substitutions. The re-introduction of comprehensive examinations and/or theses as a graduation requirement would be a further valuable step. Some schools require theses or senior projects for honors programs or in specific courses of study, but their absence in all baccalaureate curricula seriously undermines the credibility of the degrees in which they are not required.

The last thirty years have seen a critical weakening in the structure and rigor of general education requirements in American higher education. In making higher education a product, college administrators have been, in some ways, a catalyst to this process, for in a business model of education, the sheer number of “consumers” is the primary concern. However, education is a more complex process, requiring an understanding of the academy as an educational community. As such, one must consider first how students fit into and contribute to that community, and how the community supports their individual development. At the core of the experience should lie a commitment to mastery of the rudimentary academic skills and knowledge relevant to western society.

In advocating a renewed emphasis on classical literature in Irish education, D. R. Howlett wrote in 1996:

This is not an exercise in quaint antiquarianism. Nor is it a model for an intellectual theme park. It is a plan for recovery of elements of the past that can enrich the present and empower the young to cope with the future. There is little point in teaching information or technology which will be obsolete by the time students leave school. There is much point in teaching children how to learn, to remember, to think, to design, to tell stories, to compose verse and prose and music, to present arguments forcefully and elegantly, by exposing them to durable works of art by their own ancestors which are affective and effective.

While Howlett refers to “ancestors” in the genealogical sense in advocating the study of Latin texts from Celtic sources, we should also consider the wisdom of recognizing the great minds of western civilization as our intellectual ancestors. More importantly, we must embrace the ideal of teaching our students how to learn, how to think, and how to create. Without these fundamental skills, they will be ill prepared to navigate the increasingly complex modern world. Without the broad context established by a rigorous and well ordered general education curriculum, specific information finds no meaningful context, and the fleeting details, memorized merely for an examination, are soon lost. Plato warned against the degeneration of education “from an effort to acquire culture into a heaping up of multifarious information (polypragmosyne).” It is not surprising that in our complex society, “multifarious information” increasingly holds sway in the educational process. However, if we are to truly serve students best, we must first be concerned with the skill of thinking itself. Fortunately, a fundamental understanding of how best to hone this skill has existed for well over two millennia. In light of this, reversing the adverse trends of the last thirty years seems a bit less daunting.

-PMÓS

Graceful Exit?

2005-11-15T12:47:00.000-06:00

This afternoon's briefing by the Secretary of Defense and the Vice Chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff offered very little cause for optimism in the lengthening US military deployment to Iraq. Secretary Rumsfeld should remember that petulance, though often employed, has never successfully defended incompetence, or even, as he put it, "honest mistakes." While it is true that imposing an artificial timetable for the withdrawal of troops merely tells insurgents how long they should hunker down before resuming full-scale activities, the US public's opinion of the war, and the clearly related plunge in President Bush's approval ratings, together suggest that a long-term commitment at the present troop level is destined for eventual collapse, most likely from a move by congress to pull the financial rug out from under the operation.

And yet foreign policy should not necessarily be constructed based on opinion polls. The other edge to that sword is that the public overwhelmingly supported the war initially. Oops.

It is now time for the Bush Administration and the Pentagon to perceive and admit the latent reality that they have brought to fruition through the invasion and occupation of Iraq: There are essentially three states contained within the present borders of that nation. Pre-war planning failed to adequately account for this dynamic and the subsequent complexity of the occupation to follow. Similarly, pre-war planning failed to account for the expression of this reality in the construction of the now approved Iraqi constitution - a very loose federal model. Finally, pre-war planning failed to consider the influence of Iran, which has, incidentally, moved sharply to the right with the election of hardliner Mahmoud Ahmadinejad as president.

In considering a drawdown of US troops, one must ask where the problems are concentrated. The answer is fairly simple: Sunni territory. The vast majority of US military operations (and casualties), including the present Operation Steel Curtain, are focused in majority Sunni provinces, especially Anbar Province in the west. Of course, these are also the areas where the federalist constitution was rejected (by well over 2/3 in two provinces, and by about 55% in Nineveh Province).

Taking into account the present federal model, the logical course of action is to accelerate local training and control of security forces in the more stable areas (the predominantly Kurdish north, and the predominantly Shiite south), and re-deploy forces to the restive Sunni areas as local security forces are able to cope with issues in the more stable provinces. Again, while the cautions about timetables remain legitimate, it is not unreasonable to think that perhaps 75,000 US troops could be withdrawn over the next 12 to 18 months.

Of course, the above suggestion is not without problems. Major diplomatic efforts will need to be undertaken with Turkey, which will be made rather nervous by a nascent Kurdish state on its southern border, given its own historic persecution of its Kurdish minority in eastern regions. Similarly, Iran will not be enamored of an empowered Kurdistan on its border, but this will probably be more than balanced by a majority Shiite state on its border in southern Iraq. In truth, the United States needs to be honest about allowing the self-determination of peoples (rather than simply paying lip service to the concept). If Shiites in the south want to form an Islamic state with close ties to Iran, that is their prerogative. The acceptance of this reality may well steal some of Ahmadinejad's anti-American thunder, as it would be increasingly difficult to paint the US as uniformly anti-Shiite or anti-Islamic. It would clearly not precipitate a miraculous resurgence of moderates in Iran, but it would at least bring them back from the fringe to which they have recently been banished.

Turkey and Iran can be mollified, particularly with Turkey seeking membership in the European Community (here's an instance where our European allies can apply some necessary pressure without committing troops to the effort). It is true that allowing a degree of security/military autonomy for Kurdistan and a Shiite state in the south takes Iraq a few steps further down the path of disintegration as a nation, but I would suggest that this process is already underway. It makes sense to attempt to accelerate it under controlled circumstances (i.e., with the Sunnis held in check with the remaining US military assets), rather than to withdraw, either now or years from now, and allow the process to proceed chaotically.

It is further worth considering that the United States is widely seen in the region as disingenuous - advocating democracy, while dreading the actual outcome of elections (e.g., Iran). If we as a nation are serious about allowing other nations and peoples to determine their own destiny, we need to put our money where our collective mouth is - even if we don't particularly like the candidates elected. Indeed, it is the very perception of US meddling in the self-determination of countries that generates the greatest ill will.

One caveat: The United States should never surrender its right to protect its national interests and security. Threats should be engaged and neutralized, employing military force when absolutely necessary. But, as any soldier knows, one should present as small a target profile to the enemy as possible. The present and recent conduct of US foreign policy has, on the contrary, made us both irresistible and convenient as a target in Iraq. Iraq IS the focal point of the so-called "global war on terror," but that is only so because we have made it that way. It is time to lower our profile.

Our profile may only be lowered by reducing military presence in the region, and the best course in the short term is to foster the independence of security forces in the provinces/regions that can most readily sustain them. This will result in independent, security self-sufficient regions, conducting their own business internally and externally. If you listen to the Bush Administration's arguments for democracy and security in the region, you would deduce that this is precisely what was intended. The Sunni territories will continue to be a problem, but that is little different from the present situation. An internationalizing of the troop presence under UN mandate could reduce long-term US presence even in that region.

If the Bush Administration is horrified by the above suggestion of the emergence of three independent states within present Iraqi borders, they should have paid heed to the old adage, "Be careful what you wish for..."

-PMÓS

Ask Your Doctor

2005-10-16T12:00:00.000-05:00

Is it just me, or is the pharmaceutical industry trying too hard? It seems impossible these days to watch any television program without seeing a commercial for a drug that promises to somehow make your life radically better. Of course, the most obvious of these are the “erectile dysfunction” commercials (as if men don’t have enough anxiety about sexual performance already). Oddly, in spite of billions in industry profits, I don’t know a single male friend or acquaintance who admits to taking the “little blue pill.” Clearly, all of these drugs are manufactured for export to less sexually potent countries…

But at least erectile dysfunction drugs do have a rather obvious purpose. I’m more concerned about the television advertising that introduces the name of a drug, but says nothing about what it does or what condition it claims to treat. “Ask your doctor” is the only advice one receives. This is due to the FCC’s prohibition on discussion the benefits of a medication on the air without disclosing its side affects. Doctors must be getting annoyed at the increasing frequency of men asking about treatments for menopause symptoms and the like.

The worst cases seem to be those medications for which the industry needs to invent a disease. It is a wonder that the American public isn’t more panicked about the sudden proliferation of new and scary-sounding conditions like “peripheral artery disease” (which used to just be called “poor circulation”), or “social anxiety disorder” (previously known as “shyness”). But, have no fear! We now seem to have a pill for everything. In fact, we seem to have pills for which a condition needs to be developed, along with an expensive and glitzy marketing campaign with lots of active, healthy people whose lives have been miraculously snatched from the jaws of despair.

As concerned Americans, we should do our part. I think it is our patriotic duty to support the pharmaceutical industry by coming up with some new medical conditions for the plethora of pills. Clearly, nobody wants a disease that could actually kill you, so we need to define a host of new maladies that are bothersome and perhaps embarrassing, but not truly dangerous. These can be completely new conditions, or the creative re-naming of mundane departures from physical and mental perfection. Here are a few to start:

Suboptimal Cognitive Disorder (formerly “stupidity”)
Alcohol Toxicity Processing Syndrome (formerly “hangover”)
Parental Defiance Disorder (common in toddlers)
Pixel Fixation Syndrome (unhealthy attachment to video games)
Responsibility Avoidance Disorder (30-somethings living in parents’ basements)

Oh, and if the industry could develop a pill to take out the hiccups, that would be nice.

The truth is that the pharmaceutical industry does, in fact, create through the research and hard work of dedicated professionals a host of medications that improve and extend life. Unfortunately, we are now witnessing the hijacking of the industry by public relations firms and unbridled corporate greed. Creating a market has surpassed saving lives and relieving suffering as the top priority. In the process, Americans are becoming increasingly paranoid about their health, and this is fueled by the already rampant ‘victim mentality’ in our culture. We increasingly define ourselves by how we have been wronged, either by others or by the cruel fate of some random medical condition.

There are people out there who are actually ill, and who need medical care and appropriate medications. They should get the help and treatment that they need. As for the rest of us, it is time to take out our BS detectors. Don’t let the drug companies talk you into having some sort of syndrome or disorder. The happy people cavorting in sunny fields with attractive mates and well-adjusted children in the pharmaceutical ads, I’m sorry to say, aren’t real. For goodness’ sake, they are ACTORS! After shooting the commercial, they most likely washed down a few anti-depressants with a martini at a local bar. Unless, of course, they are into Scientology, but that’s a whole different illness…

-PMÓS

Broken Record

2005-10-06T10:02:00.000-05:00

Perhaps, in this age, the metaphor should be "skipping CD." At any rate, President Bush's speech this morning was an abysmal disappointment, offering little more than the same vacuous flag waving and lack of a clear vision for a definable and attainable end state in Iraq. In truth, this speech could have been delivered last month, last year, or shortly after the invasion of Iraq. At this point, however, "trust me, we're doing important things" is wearing a bit thin.

The Bush Administration still insists on blurring the lines between Al Qaeda and the Sunni insurgency in Iraq - certainly distinct groups. In a remarkable fallacy of logic, Bush offered the vision of an Iraq headed by Osama bin Laden or his lieutenants. Ironically, as slim as the chance of an Iraqi terrorist state is now, it is still greater than the chance of such a state under Saddam Hussein, who despised Islamic fundamentalism, and actively suppressed it.

It is well worth remembering the constant parade of reasons offered for the war in Iraq. First, we were told that there were connections between Al Qaeda and Saddam Hussein's regime. Next, the presence of weapons of mass destruction was advanced as the principal reason for invading (complete with Secretary of State Colin Powell "making the case" at the UN - a case we now know was based on poor intelligence). Additional reasons were offered, as well. Remember the suggestion that an invasion of Iraq would provide a free-flowing supply of relatively inexpensive oil? Have you filled up your SUV at the gas station lately?

So, once again, Mr. Bush is telling us that this is a war worth fighting and winning - that it is crucial for the safety and security of the United States. Let us hope so. We have sacrificed 1943 US military lives on that premise, with nearly 15,000 wounded. Meanwhile, we have pitifully under supported military efforts in Afghanistan, resulting in a stalemate, with casualties among US troops there recently spiking, and with regional warlords carving up their spheres of influence through a flawed election process (and most probably a good measure of intimidation). And, of course, the opium trade continues to line the pockets of these same petty dictators, while in part supporting the very Taliban US forces initially came to oust.

In one respect, Mr. Bush is right. We cannot 'cut and run' in Iraq. Although peace activists would relish this, the damage to our already battered credibility would be significant. And this is the most sickening aspect of the Bush legacy. We have little choice but to keep enough troops piled on the lid of Pandora's box, attempting to avert civil war. Odds of long-term success are not good, but perhaps that is a secondary consideration. The American public is not likely to support an open-ended occupation of Iraq, or "military assistance" to the tune of 140,000 troops for the next decade. The present administration seems to be betting that they can at least talk the American people into supporting it through November 2008.

-PMÓS

Whining-Intensive Courses

2005-09-16T19:36:00.000-05:00

On Wednesday of this week, I introduced the rather substantial writing component of the Music History I course I teach at Saint Mary's University. This course (and its continuation, Music History II) is coded as "writing intensive" in the university curriculum. The minimum requirement for such a course is that it contain ten pages of formal, graded writing, and that at least one assignment involve a significant mechanism for revision based on feedback. This year, a standardized grading rubric was added, to be applied to at least one assignment.

I have been teaching this course at this university since the Spring of 1998, long before the notion of coding courses as "writing intensive" was posited. I have always required a major research paper (15-25 pages) as part of the course. Unfortunately, the ten-page formal, graded writing requirement, once established, immediately served to give me the appearance of a maniac fixated on exceeding the course requirement by several hundred percent. If one writes a 15-page paper, and in the process generates a one-page topic paragraph, a three-page outline, a 15-page draft, and a 15-page final paper, the total (all fair game in calculating the "formal, graded writing" requirement) of 34 pages does give me a slightly sadistic appearance.

But writing is good for you! Seriously, I do wish my students understood just how valuable an assignment this paper truly is. Of course, I do want them to absorb at least a skeletal sense of the flow of the history of the discipline - and western music has a tremendously rich and interesting history. It is important that they are aware of the origins and context of their art, and year after year, students ask me why a large research paper is a catalyst to this overall understanding. "Can't we just memorize the dates and names and terminology?" Well, of course you could.

The real value of writing a paper of this length and focus is, quite simply, to force the student to become "expert" (the term is relative) in a specific area of music history. Whether it be a specific composer, instrument, musical work, genre, or some other facet of the discipline, the goal is for the student to delve deeply enough into a topic to command a level of knowledge beyond that which would be expected from the broad survey of the course itself. Further, the paper is supposed to hone skills of research, organization, and presentation in written form.

Returning to the perennial resistance to the assignment, one can see the consumer mentality at work: "I'm paying for this course. Why should I have to work so hard on something that somebody else has already researched?" Or, a personal favorite, "How is writing this paper going to get me a good job?" Quite simply, it won't. What it will do is develop skills and confidence and the ability to think and organize. Certainly, these are skills that many employers seek, but they aren't going to read your Music History I research paper and exclaim, "My God, this is BRILLIANT! You're hired!"

For my own part, I love language. I am especially fond of English, not only because it is my native tongue, but also because it is the largest and most unwieldy of languages, an amalgamation of Anglo-Saxon, French, Latin, and a linguistic vacuum cleaner sucking up pretty much anything else that has a potential use. It is awkward, inconsistent, eccentric, and has by far the largest vocabulary of human tongues. If one were to design a language, it would likely be the antithesis of modern English. And yet, the very quirkiness of the language lends a richness to it that is unmatched. It steals shamelessly from other languages, and this kleptomaniacal tendency ensures that no vacuum of meaning can exist for very long before it is filled with a borrowed word (or one invented for the need). And while this may be gauche, our most boorish of languages possesses an unparalleled flexibility.

With that said, I am not seriously expecting to convert all of my students, or even a majority, to an embrace of verbal virtuosity. Indeed, complete sentences and subject-verb agreement in all instances would be sufficiently miraculous. No, I am aware of the uphill struggle, and I well know that only a few students will possess the ability to write on a truly extraordinary level. What matters in this context is that each student understand that learning the craft of writing at a proficient level is a prerequisite to being an educated person. There are, it must be said, many people with diplomas who are not 'educated' in the sense that they have learned to use their minds, and are open to continued learning. Most rare is the true 'intellectual,' who hungers for knowledge, actively seeks it, and develops the mental discipline required to absorb, understand, and synthesize.

Perhaps consumerism is at the root of my greatest frustration in university teaching: the insistence that all courses and curricula be tied to a specific career path with a salary figure firmly in mind. Going to college should not be linked directly to getting a job! There are plenty of technical schools out there that teach specific skills and even work toward job placement. These are valuable institutions with a clear mission, and I do not wish to denigrate them. However, a four-year, liberal arts college degree is NOT supposed to get you a specific job. This is a fairly recent myth concocted by college recruiters and admissions officers, consumed by parents who, after paying the bills for junior, want some assurance of an eventual empty nest and the attendant bump in disposable income. They do not want junior moving back in and living in the basement.

Sadly, the college-leads-to-high-paying-job myth has become so entrenched that it threatens to completely obscure the central value of a liberal arts education. That value is in the development of a mind, provisioning it with a library of specific knowledge and training it to acquire and evaluate new knowledge, placing it in a meaningful context. With this high-order cognitive ability, an educated person may succeed in a broad range of duties, adapt to changing conditions, and present convincing arguments. An educated person will appreciate different perspectives, build consensus, and refine systems. In short, an educated person will be empowered and encouraged to lead.

Does the quality of being educated translate to a higher earning potential? One must admit that it probably does, because organizations and employers certainly value the abilities that a liberal arts education seeks to impart. However, an education, in and of itself, guarantees no financial security. It is not a quid pro quo exchange of tuition dollars for a high-paying job upon graduation. The tuition is paid as the price of admission to a community of individuals that value the development of the mind. It is up to the student to use that access wisely.

My music history students will not become 'intellectuals' on the basis of one paper, or on the basis of reading hundreds of pages or listening to dozens of recorded musical examples. In fact, the intellectuals lurking in my classes are easily spotted, and would be what they are with or without my intervention. I do, however, hope that all of my students seek to be 'educated' people. I hope that they learn to use their minds, and that they understand that it is not the discipline-specific knowledge imparted in a course that leads to "education." Rather, it is the processing of that knowledge, and the resultant ability to continue to learn, governed by one's own curiosity and the skills developed, that defines an education in the broadest sense.

-PMÓS

A King From Canada

2005-09-06T09:55:00.000-05:00

Review: A King from Canada by Conrad Swan

(Stanhope, Co. Durham: The Memoir Club, 2005. £18.50 ISBN: 1-84104-072-X)

It is difficult to overstate the richness of Sir Conrad Swan’s account of a remarkable life, from his childhood on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, to his appointment to what is arguably the most prestigious position in the heraldic world, Garter Principal King of Arms of the United Kingdom’s College of Arms. The book is at once a broadly sweeping narrative touching five continents and an intimate remembrance of Swan’s family life, comrades in the Indian Army of the British Empire, and many other friends and acquaintances.

The devotee of heraldry will certainly be fascinated by the detailed descriptions of the internal workings of the College of Arms, and by the authoritative outlines of the investiture ceremonies of several distinguished orders of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth, including the Order of Canada, the Most Honourable Order of the Bath, the Most Distinguished Order of St. Michael and St. George, and, the most senior of the British orders, the Most Noble Order of the Garter. Also recounted are a number of significant state occasions occurring during Swan’s tenure in the College, from his appointment as Rouge Dragon Pursuivant of Arms in December 1962 to his succession to the title of Garter Principal King of Arms in 1992 and eventual retirement from that office in 1995. These events included State Openings of Parliament, the funeral of Sir Winston Churchill (1965), and the Investiture of the Prince of Wales (1969).

The book is not only a veritable treasure trove of heraldic insights, but also a moving historical account of the author’s ancestry. A detailed account of his father’s Polish-Lithuanian ancestry (the family name having been Swiecicki, changed by the author’s father to Swan) traces their origins and recognition as minor nobility of the Russian Empire in the early 19th century. His mother’s roots (Green) in Hertfordshire are also examined. These family histories are no mere lists of names and dates, but rather most effectively weave together the lives of Swan’s forebears with the historical and political threads that affected them.

Finally, it must be stated that the writing in A King From Canada is truly masterful. The finely-crafted prose is most readable, and yet polished and erudite. Phrases in foreign languages (often Latin) are employed often enough to add linguistic seasoning to the volume, but are not excessive or arbitrary in placement. A sense of gentility permeates the book, and the reader is effectively transported as a silent witness to the details of a life nobly lived, and service most capably rendered to the Crown.

A King From Canada is essential reading for those devoted to the study of heraldry, as it presents the ultimate insider’s perspective on the College of Arms. However, the diverse historical, genealogical, and social fabric of the work ensures that it will be thoroughly enjoyed by all those who appreciate the sweep of human events and the work of an author who wields the English language with authority, grace, and the occasional good-natured wink of an eye.

(Review for The Armiger's News, Fall 2005, the quarterly journal of The American College of Heraldry

The Coming Iraqi Civil War

2005-08-26T22:56:00.000-05:00

It is dangerous to predict the future, but the sputtering negotiations over the draft Iraqi constitution are not inspiring confidence over the future stability of the country. In fact, the draft that now exists features a weak central government, with a largely autonomous Kurdistan in the north, and a Shi'ite state in the south that will, no doubt, develop ever closer ties to Iran. (Remember Iran? They are the ones who have reactivated their nuclear plants and are enriching nuclear fuel again...)

There are also troubling signs that Islamic law will be forced into a position of supremacy over civil law, creating either a theocracy, or splintering the country as large regions reject Sharia law in favor of civil law. In the ensuing chaos, US troops would be caught in the sectarian struggle, attempting to support a theoretical central government that wields no real power over the autonomous regions. This is a recipe for alienating both the Kurdish north and the Shi'ite south, areas that were previously more uniformly supportive of US suppression of the Baathist Sunni minority. We are about to lose our remaining friends.

So, let us examine what we have thus far gained for the 1872 US dead and $200 billion, in addition to over 14,000 wounded and a tremendous forfeiture of international good will (not to mention uncounted thousands of Iraqi dead, most of them innocent civilians):

* Iraq, which had never really harbored terrorists before, is now the primary destination for those who wish to kill Americans.

* Gas is now at about $2.60 per gallon. (Remember all the talk about the urestricted flow of plentiful oil from Iraqi oil fields, and a boost to world supplies that would keep petroleum costs low?)

* Iran has moved decidedly to a more conservative stance, with a hard-liner now the elected president. It has now completely ignored UN seals on its nuclear plants, and has re-started a fuel enrichment program that could eventually lead to nuclear weapons.

* The rosiest Pentagon estimates now suggest that US troop deployments could remain at present levels for at least another 4 years. Defense Secretary Rumsfeld has been quoted as saying that the US presence there could last for the next 10 years. Even with a substantial decrease in the rate of casualties, this period would likely see thousands of additional US military deaths.

* With 130,000 or more troops in Iraq, and more supporting their operations from outside Iraq, the US is severely limited in its ability to address other conflicts or security crises as they arise.

* President Bush now has an approval rating of 40%, the lowest of his presidency.

* Colin Powell, the Secretary of State who "made the case" for WMD to the United Nations, resigned and has retired from public life entirely.

I don't think that the above were the fondest hopes of the neoconservatives when they implemented the Iraqi war plan.

The greatest injustice is that the men and women of the armed forces, who put their lives on the line, are fighting and dying in a war that has far more negative consequences than the political leadership anticipated. They serve with honor, and our leaders have a responsibility to only ask them to risk their lives when it is necessary for the security of the United States. Sadly, I am not at all convinced that Iraq ever met that standard.

And it could become much, much worse.

If the shaky constitutional negotiations break down, we could very quickly see a collapse of the country into open conflict between Sunni and Shia, with the Kurds isolating themselves (and making Turkey and Iran nervous, as both of these countries have their own Kurdish minorities). Where will the US plant its flag if this happens? Which group do we support? Will there be enough of a central government to be propped up by US military power? How will we decide which groups are deserving of our assistance in a fragmented Iraq?

Thus far, the Bush Administration seems unwilling to admit that this is even possible. They have shut their eyes, plugged their ears with their fingers, and are rocking in a dark corner, desperately hoping to dissociate and find their "happy place." But it IS possible. With each passing day of failure to draft even a weak constitution, it slowly migrates from possible to probable.

And our troops will have a front-row seat for it. Perhaps it will appear to be a blessing to have Iraqis killing each other instead of focusing their anger at US soldiers, but it certainly won't square with the notion so frequently advanced now of a US military presence deployed to "help the Iraqi people." We will more likely stand back and watch it burn down, because we simply won't know which side to take.

Perhaps an open civil war is the only thing that would bring US troops home in the near term. If we have no idea which side to assist, we might just pull troops out and say, "let us know when you're done killing each other, and maybe we'll come back and help." Or maybe we'll just brand it all as "an internal Iraqi matter," and let them fight it out, and may the best faction win.

I hope I'm wrong about this one. I really do.

-PMOS

Another Fatwa

2005-08-23T23:00:00.000-05:00

On Monday, a fanatical religious leader issued an opinion that the elected leader of a country in the Western Hemisphere should be assassinated, to avoid another long and costly war. We have become used to such religious opinions or "fatwas" by radical Islamic leaders, venting their hate of US foreign policy by advocating murder. The difference with Monday's opinion is that it came from Pat Robertson, the founder of the Christian Coalition, and host of "The 700 Club," not to mention a former US presidential candidate.

Robertson stated flatly that the President of oil rich Venezuela, Hugo Chavez, was making his country "a launching pad for communist infiltration and Muslim extremism all over the continent." Apparently, communism and Muslim extremism are now virtually synonymous (I guess we'll see Kim Jong Il of North Korea building mosques and opening madrasas in Pyongyang soon). Robertson reasoned that since Chavez has said some rather nasty things about the United States, we should "take him out" to avoid a long and costly war. News flash, Pat: the Pentagon isn't exactly mobilizing to invade Venezuela at the moment...

Maybe Robertson is feeling the bite at the pump when he fills up his Cadillac, and wants to ensure that Venezuela, which supplies 10% of US oil imports, keeps the spigot wide open. Of course, with typical myopia, he fails to consider that while the US imports 10% of its oil from Venezuela, we account for 59% of Venezuela's oil exports. Cutting us off would be a pyrrhic victory of monumental proportions for Chavez.

It would also seem that Mr. Robertson has not paid much attention to the history of attempted political assassinations by the United States. We did try to "take out" President Chavez's friend, Fidel Castro, in the 1960s, and the bearded one is alive and well and living in Havana. The failure, and attendant embarrassment, of that plot ultimately led to the policy now in place against the assassination of foreign political leaders (not to mention that during the Cold War, we didn't exactly want the Soviet Union bankrolling hit squads to take out the US President or leaders of our European allies).

Similarly, Mr. Robertson appears to have missed the 6th Commandment. Of course, the exact meaning of "thou shalt not kill" has been debated. Is it an absolute injunction? There is no penalty specified if this commandment is broken. On the other hand, we read in Ecclesiastes that there is "a time to kill and a time to heal." One must presume that the Old Testament saw killing as a necessary human activity, as long as you didn't kill the wrong people, or somebody who didn't deserve to die. The treatment of the Canaanites by the Israelites makes this abundantly clear.

Perhaps Mr. Robertson is converting to Judaism. If he were, it would at least explain his adherence to the Old Testament views on killing. Chavez is a bad man, and certainly not one of God's Chosen People (at least according to Robertson), so it must be acceptable to assassinate him. Yes, it all makes sense now! Mr. Robertson will, no doubt, be joining the protests at Israeli settlements in the West Bank against the withdrawal from Palestinian territories. Perhaps he will move there permanently. That would be welcome news for America.

On the other hand, he did found the CHRISTIAN Coalition. This might be a bit of a leap, but one might expect such a man to espouse a Christian outlook. Perhaps there are some parts of the New Testament that Mr. Robertson has discovered that the rest of us haven't read yet, but I don't remember many instances of Jesus telling the disciples to "lock and load" and waste the Romans. Let's see... "love one another" (nope, not there)..."Peter, put your sword back in its place" (nope, that won't work either). There isn't really much to support political assassination in the Gospels, even with the most creative reading.

Clearly, lots of killing has taken place in the name of Christianity. This is rather astounding in light of the message of love that Christ himself brought. However, human nature being what it is, a perversion of this message was inevitable. The hope is that Christianity has largely worked through this 'adolescence,' and that we Christians might actually consider the teachings of Jesus, rather than how scripture might be spun to support this or that political goal.

Finally, Mr. Robertson would do well to consider that the United States has a long (and perhaps today endangered) history of the separation of church and state. Advocating the assassination of a foreign leader by agents of the US government in the context of a "religious" television show with many thousands, if not millions, of viewers is a colossal act of irresponsibility at best. I certainly hope that this blunder exposes the true nature of Robertson to his viewers.

At least he's not our President. If he were, he might have arbitrarily invaded a country, citing unsubstantiated charges of WMD development before UN inspections could verify those same allegations, made on shaky, conclusion-selective intelligence. Hm. Wait a minute...

-PMOS

Ex Libris

2005-08-22T00:30:00.000-05:00

Heraldry has always held a fascination for me. Perhaps it is the atmosphere of aristocracy that it creates. Perhaps it is the fact that true heraldry follows a set of rules and employs specific terminology (with most terms in Norman French), ensuring that the "common folk" don't quite understand its intricacies. Or perhaps it is the aesthetic appeal of a symbolic language that is at once beautiful and capable of transmitting a considerable amount of genealogical and other familial information.

My early fascination with heraldry led me to the American College of Heraldry, and its then-president, the late Dr. David P. Johnson, who had been involved with this non-profit organization since its founding in 1972. The ACH, filling the vacuum left by the lack of an official heraldic authority in the United States, has done much over the years to help those wishing to assume arms in America, avoiding many errors and poor design. The ACH continues today, and I am now most honored to serve on its Board of Governors.

What is the point of a personal coat of arms? Well, obviously, I'm not about to ride out with a shield and lance in hand, so there isn't much need to identify myself in spite of a suit of chain mail or plate armor. However, the value of a symbolic identification system such as heraldry has proven extraordinarily consistent, with stationery, silver, and many other personal items. Establishing or reinstating a familial heraldic tradition remains attractive for aesthetic as well as pragmatic reasons, as evidenced by the continued upsurge in registrations of new arms by the ACH, under the capable leadership of its present Executive Director, David Wooten.

As an academic and avowed book pack rat, I must admit that one of my favorite uses of heraldry is the heraldic bookplate. Bookplates date to the Middle Ages, when hand-copied books were items of considerable value. Often, these were commissioned by wealthy noblemen, and the coats of arms of the patron in question were lavishly illustrated at the beginning of the volume.

As printing made books more available, the expanding middle class sought to acquire the marks of nobility, and these included both books and coats of arms. The marriage of the two was thus inevitable among commoners as well as nobles, and the precedent set has continued to the present, producing countless works of identifying heraldic art for the libraries of those bearing arms.

Frequently, bookplates employ the Latin formula, "ex libris" or "from the library of" plus the name of the owner. Of course, they might also have this formula in the vernacular, or omit it and simply use the name of the armiger. Historically, black and white versions are most common (often employing the common system of "hatching" or the use of lined or dotted patterns to indicate coloration). However, with the cost of color printing decreasing in recent times, color bookplates are increasingly common.

The present version of my own bookplate (above) is a recent revision of some earlier designs. Central to the bookplate are the arms and crest (gold harp) registered by the American College of Heraldry for my great-grandfather, Michael Joseph O'Shea (1889-1971), and thus pertaining to all of his descendants. These are depicted on a simple knot work background, with knot work borders to lend a Celtic flavor to the plate.

I chose to omit the motto, which is a less permanent feature of armorial achievements, and which may be changed by branches of families. In the case of this particular branch of O'Sheas, the motto recorded is QUAERITE VERITATEM (Seek Ye The Truth), a variation on the historic motto of the 1381 grant of arms to Odoneus O'Shee of Tipperary, VINCIT VERITAS (Truth Conquers). The O'Sheas, as a clan, are also said to have the motto, in Irish, Eala Dubh Uibh Rathach Abu! (Victory to the Black Swan of Iveragh!). The black swan was the totem animal of the O'Sheas.

Along the top edge are arms connected to my paternal ancestry, from left to right: (De) Wayland, Burgh (Burke), Smithwick, White, Maunsell, and Gabbett. Similarly, the bottom edge features arms from my maternal ancestry: Bilodeau, Gamache, d'Aillebout, Menteith of Kerse, De Marle, and Hotman.

Thanks to modern technology, these are conveniently printed on inkjet shipping labels (4" x 3.3"), and easily applied to the inside covers or blank front pages of books. And while this is certainly less impressive than a hand-painted armorial achievement on a vellum page of a hand-copied manuscript, it is a direct descendant of that ancient tradition.

Admittedly, not everybody will want to become a "heraldry geek." And, there are those who connect an interest in heraldry with role-playing and assumed fictional personas (the Society for Creative Anachronism). But I honestly believe that heraldry retains a value in the real, modern world. Yes, there are perhaps more efficient ways of identifying ownership of something, and there are modes of information storage and transmission that carry exponentially more data. And yet, there is an intrinsic value in a thing of beauty, particularly if it serves a function in addition to its aesthetic worth.

And besides, how many other hobbies can you have where you get to use Norman French?

-PMOS

Rocking the Ordination Boat

2005-08-17T12:24:00.000-05:00

Floating on a boat in international waters on the St. Lawrence Seaway, nine women were recently "ordained" by two female Roman Catholic 'bishops' from Germany. This none-too-subtle event certainly brings to the fore the issue of ordination for women in the Catholic Church. Of course, the female bishops had been excommunicated, and the Vatican has not made any comment on the recent ordinations, but one can assume that the validity of this will not be accepted in Rome:

http://www.tandemnews.com/viewstory.php?storyid=5462

But forcing the issue is probably the only way that any discussion will occur, at least in the near future. Certainly, the debate has been polarized. On the one hand, the traditionalists insist that as Christ was male, the priesthood must be entirely male. On the other side, advocates for the ordination of women assert that being "Christ-like" does not necessarily involve gender, but rather the following of Christ's example of selflessness and love, and that all Christians are called upon to do this. Sadly, some of the rhetoric on both sides has been decidedly un-Christian, with traditionalists berating "uppity women" for wanting to ruin the Church, and with women's ordination advocates asserting that the Church establishment is simply misogynistic and preoccupied with preserving a status quo from which they benefit.

Unfortunately, these ad hominem attacks (ironic word usage intended) do little to shed light, or the Christian spirit, on the matter. An examination of Christian history is in order…

The existence of female leaders in the early church cannot really be debated, but their exact role has been obscured. One might suggest that the Romanization of the Church in the 4th century had much to do with this, as Roman society was entirely paternalistic. Indeed, the head of a Roman household, the “pater familias,” wielded absolute authority within the household – even to the point of being empowered to kill his wife and children if they disobeyed him, or dishonored the family. Women had no legal rights in Roman society whatsoever (another cultural idiosyncracy borrowed from the Greeks, along with most of their gods).

It is not surprising, then, that when Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, it took on aspects of this highly paternalistic culture. Women continued to play a role in the Church, but it was virtually invisible unless one was a considerable distance from Rome.

We have some indication of this in the early Irish Church, where figures such as St. Brigid of Kildare (5th-6th century) were regarded as equal to male abbots and other ecclesiastical leaders. In fact, the Life of Brigid (Bethu Brigte) states that the bishop who made Brigid an Abess was so impressed with the sanctity of Brigid that he consecrated her with the orders of a bishop. However, she was not, it seems, empowered to administer the sacrament of communion. Of course, this provides ammunition for both sides of the argument.

It should also be noted that clerical celibacy has never been considered to be among the infallible dogmas of the Catholic Church, and has been considered more than once, with rules being altered by various Popes. Indeed, there are different rules in different traditions. For example, in the Eastern Rite (under Eastern patriarchs, but in full communion with Rome), married men may become deacons or priests. However, they may not marry after ordination.

But the ordination of women has seemingly always been forbidden by the Catholic Church. Indeed, it has been advanced as a dogmatic (i.e., infallible) principle as recently as 1995 by the Vatican, and since the person clarifying the matter was Cardinal Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict XVI), there is little chance of any re-examination of the issue for the moment.

But there are those who challenge the view on theological grounds. The Old Catholic Church, a loosely-knit community of churches who split with the Vatican in 1870, following the First Vatican Council, takes issue with the entire principle of infallibility. It is thus not surprising that the Old Catholic Church has allowed the ordination of women. And there are certainly those within the Catholic Church itself who take issue with the dogmatic pronouncement on women’s ordination. Sister Kathleen Dolphin, of St. Mary’s College in Notre Dame, IN, has stated, “It's faulty theology and there's a growing consensus among theologians around the world that there is no theology against the ordination of women that is credible.”

It would seem that this opinion is shared by a majority of the Catholic faithful in America. In a poll taken shortly before the conclave that selected Pope Benedict XVI, some 60% of American Catholics indicated that they supported the ordination of women. Of course, the American Catholic Church has for years been considered more liberal than its counterparts in many other areas of the globe, but 60% is a number worth considering at least.

And yet, the Church does not make decisions based upon opinion polls. Indeed, the notion of something absolute with respect to moral pronouncements has been a strength of the Church. And, it might also be said that the younger generation of Catholics, the “John Paul II generation,” is considerably more conservative than their parents. Perhaps there really is a change in the outlook of young Catholics, or perhaps it is simply that absolutes are always appealing to the idealism of youth. But half of those young Catholics are female, and in America they live in a culture that tells them they can pursue any career, any ambition they might have, while the Church tells them something different.

Dogma or mutable policy? Clearly, this isn’t a debate that is going to go away, and the succession of a new Pope is always an occasion for renewed discussion on matters of faith and the practices of the Church. What the nine new female priests and deacons ordained on July 25th have done is to move the debate squarely to the North American continent. Is this a brave move, an act of “ecclesiastical disobedience” akin to civil rights activities in the U.S. south in the 1960s, or is it an example of misguided women poking their fingers in the eye of the Vatican with a publicity stunt?

Regardless of one’s view on the matter, it is clear that there really has been no dialog on the issue, since “no” generally has been the extent of any conversation. It would be refreshing to see the argument framed in theological and historical terms, rather than cut off with the apostolic “nuclear option” of dogmatic pronouncement. If a dialog is not entered, we may indeed be sure that at least one side will continue speaking. The boat is not going to stop rocking now, and the waters are unlikely to become calmer.

-PMOS

V-J Day Plus 60 Years

2005-08-13T11:29:00.000-05:00

It was, paradoxically, called "The Good War." It's difficult to understand what, exactly, was good about it. It was, in the opinion of most, a just struggle against aggressors who would dominate the globe, imposing totalitarian rule. Clearly, had the Third Reich, Fascist Italy, and Imperial Japan triumphed, the world would be a far different place, and it is reasonable to say that we would have lost a measure of our humanity in the subsequent sweeping under the rug of the atrocities of the death camps, death marches, diabolical medical experiments, and outright genocide. Opposing this depravity was the only ethical choice.

But it was not a "good" war. War, on any scale, and particularly on the all-pervasive, global scale of World War II, is a poison. Even those who survive without physical wounds are damaged by it - some with a malaise that eventually passes, and others with an illness of soul from which they never recover. I am not a wide-eyed pacifist who believes that we can all embrace in a global "group hug" and avoid conflict entirely. We are human, and human nature includes things like greed, jealousy, and sometimes-wanton cruelty. Even the most altruistic among us must not doubt the fact that others may not similarly wish us well, and that they might seek to do us harm. Still, the decision to engage in armed struggle leads not only to the sacrifice of life and limb, but also to the sacrifice of mind and soul, individually and collectively as a nation. We must consider well the cost of war beyond the "blood and treasure" that is so often cited.

My grandparents' generation, those who fought and suffered through the Second World War, were reluctant warriors. It took the bombing of Pearl Harbor to turn the tide of opinion in support of entering the conflict, but once attacked, that generation enlisted, volunteered, sacrificed, and died without hesitation. I pray that we who have come after them never experience firsthand the anguish they faced. Indeed, what they have given us is a world in which the likelihood of such a war has been reduced almost to the point of elimination. If you have a grandparent, or parent, or another relative who served in that war, or who sacrificed at home in so many ways, you should thank them this week for the relative security and prosperity of a world that they created for us.

And we should silently thank and remember those who have died, especially those who gave their lives in combat. It is difficult to think about what they gave - and I don't mean just the pain and terror of a death far from home. I am moved even more by the 40 or 50 or 60 years' worth of tomorrows that were traded for our freedom and comfort. The thought is devastating: 60 years of time with family and friends, with lovers and children; 60 years of sunshine, and rain, and fishing trips, and lazy Sunday afternoons like tomorrow's. They gave away everything they had, and everything they ever would have, and we owe them at least our thanks and remembrance.

But as they pass away, a few more each day, we seem to forget. And as they can no longer remind us of the poison that war always is, we fall into the trap of ascribing glory to it, and cloak it in myth and slogans, while hiding the flag-draped coffins from view. 60 years later, we seem not to have learned the lessons of war's awful cost, and we seem too willing to spend what the brave men and women of our armed forces offer for the protection of their beloved country.

A world without armed conflict is, perhaps, a utopia we will never see. And we cannot build a high wall around "Fortress America" and post guards in the towers to keep all of "them" out, whoever "they" might be. World War II taught us that lesson. We must be engaged with the world economically, diplomatically, and culturally. But when the dark hour comes and military force must be considered, we should understand that, for all our technology, war is never quick or easy, and that all consequences cannot be foreseen. We will pay a price whenever we choose the sword, and that price will always be more than we can project.

So, this week, offer your thanks to "The Greatest Generation." Say the words aloud to those who are still with us, and say them in your heart to those who have passed on, whether in recent years, or long ago on a beach, in a trench, in a jungle, or under the waves. Tomorrow, and every tomorrow, is a day that they gave us. In return, we should honor them by living well with each other, supporting our families and communities, helping those in need, and taking to heart the lessons taught by their determined example.

Salus populi est suprema lex.

-PMOS

Musical Memory Lane

2005-08-10T18:28:00.000-05:00

The iTunes Music Store is dangerous. Even though I'm a long-time computer user, I've never succumbed to the siren call of music downloading. Until now.

For those who have a recent version of iTunes, the iTunes Music Store is seamlessly integrated into the application, allowing you to download (at $0.99 a pop) from a virtually inexhaustible library of music of all genres, styles, artists, and periods. Everything from "Nessun dorma" to "Back in Black" are readily available (yes, fans, both of these are in my iTunes library).

So what did I rediscover today in my musical memory lane romp? Well, I snagged a couple of songs by Rush from the album MOVING PICTURES ("Limelight" and "Tom Sawyer"), and a few Earth Wind and Fire tunes ("Getaway" and "Shining Star" among them). Add to that some David Bowie, Journey, a dash of Steppenwolf, and a dose of Toto, and you get some idea of the years in which I spent my adolescence. Oh, and I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that I did indeed download Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Free Bird."

These files, no doubt, found their new neighborhood in my iTunes library somewhat odd, as they are nestled in among the likes of Palestrina, Barber, Debussy, Tallis, Bach, Mozart, and assorted other things. There are even a few of my own compositions, both from performance recordings and from MIDI demo files, and a growing contingent of Celtic/Irish traditional music. There were, of course, some 70s and 80s rock favorites already in the library, such as the entire 1976 debut album of my fellow Bay Staters, Boston.

Many of my students will be surprised that I delight in Van Halen equally with The Chieftains and William Byrd, but I believe that one maintains a special place in one's heart for the soundtrack to one's own adolescent hormone rage. AC/DC's BACK IN BLACK was the first album (vinyl, I should point out) that I bought with my own money when it was released in 1980. I suppose I also absorbed some of my mom's musical tastes (the Earth Wind and Fire interest no doubt comes from her several albums from that 70s powerhouse).

Without getting too deeply into the "what's the matter with kids today" vein, I really do think that most of the music on the Top 40 charts now is, in a word, insipid. This is not to say that there is nothing of quality being produced now, but perhaps "produced" is the key word. Unlike bands of the 70s, where the technology was limited and the sound of the band was actually made by (suprise) the band, today's "hits" frequently suffer from so much electronic plastic surgery that the original performance is nearly unrecognizable. All in all, I prefer musicians (people who actually play their instruments, sing, and even WRITE music) to "recording artists" (creatures of the record labels, often created based on their potential to look good in a video).

So, my dear students, if you are reading this, do not expect my enjoyment of Bachman-Turner Overdrive or Pink Floyd to extend to Eminem or Jessica Simpson. I have, on occasion, heard new popular music that I've enjoyed, but those occasions are increasingly rare as time goes on. Is it that the drop in testosterone that comes in one's 30s has dulled my desire to hear what is "cool," or is it that the musical nutritional value of the Top 40 is leading to our eventual aesthetic starvation? Maybe it's both.

But today, at least, I reveled in the guilty pleasure of cranking up Boston and Rush, David Bowie and Yes on my respectable computer speaker/subwoofer system, and singing along with Billy Joel and Elton John. Is that cool? I don't know. It sure was fun, though.

-PMOS

Angry Skies

2005-08-09T23:21:00.000-05:00

Finally, rain today! My brown and crispy lawn was very appreciative, and I was glad to miss the hail, which was as big as 2 inches in some of the surrounding areas here.

There is something about coming through a storm, especially a summer thunderstorm. You are mired in a thick, hazy, lethargic day, and then the wind picks up, the sky darkens, and then rain, hail, thunder and lightning. There's complete chaos, and even danger. And yet, there is also exhilaration, perhaps because of the danger – a sense that you are caught up in something far grander and more powerful than yourself. The air is charged with negative ions – the very atmosphere is electric.

And then it subsides. The sky lightens, perhaps the sun even returns. The air is cooler, and the danger of thunder and lighting, once withstood, yields life-giving water, and everything is thankful for the storm.

I know many people who are afraid of storms, including my grandmother, who is 92 and not exactly a shrinking violet. I don’t think it is the danger that bothers them. I think it is the chaos of storms that offends their sense of order. Order is good, generally, and we need people who resist chaos in this world. But once in a while, the stagnation of the air of daily living and the sweltering repetition of our same patterns must be swept away by something intense, even something alarming.

As I look back to storms both recent and remote in my past, I know that I am stronger for having endured them, and have learned from each far more about myself than routine could ever teach. And no matter how frightening the lightning strikes or how loud the thunder, when you walk out into the fresh, energized air, you are much more alive than before the rains came.

-PMOS

Two Poems

2005-08-09T22:09:00.000-05:00

ISOLATION

I cannot speak to you
For while you hear my words
Meaning finds no entry.

I cannot learn from you
For while your soul burns
Light finds no exit.

I cannot be with you
For while you do no injury
Happiness finds no nourishment.

RESIGNATION

Your heart
A glass forest
Enchanting.

I move
Breaking boughs
Stumbling,
A blizzard of shards.

Not belonging,
I must, I know,
Bind my wounds
And go.

Pro Macintosh Rant du jure

2005-08-08T22:54:00.000-05:00

So, what is the deal with Hewlett-Packard? The other day, a friend gave me a scanner that he isn't using any longer - a pretty nice one. I went to the HP web site expecting to download a driver, and what do I find? For this (and a few other models), they are not supporting Mac OS X. What gives? And why support it on the other gazillion scanners and not four or five models? Of course, these are supported for Windows XP. Sheesh.

And, to make things more annoying, an organization to which I belong wants to use a particular form of conferencing software called Sonork. And, you guessed it, the don't make a Mac client. They have been saying for about two years that they are "working on one," but nothing yet. Of course, they gave me the standard answer, "well, you can run it if you have Windows emulation software."

Let's get something straight: I don't like Windows. Why in the world would I want to run almost-Windows on my Mac? I explained this to another officer of the organization this way: Asking somebody to emulate Windows on a Mac is a bit like asking an airplane pilot to "emulate" a Buick. You can drive it down the taxiway like a car, but you aren't exactly taking full advantage of its capabilities.

As for Mac OS X "Tiger" (10.4.x), it is wonderful. Excellent functionality and stability are coupled with some very good applications. Not everything is 100% worked out (problems with iChat and the Mail app, for example), but it is very good, and quite fast on my new eMac.

I guess I wouldn't have been so miffed with HP if they had not initially supported the scanner as a dual-platform device, and then abandoned the poor Mac users who bought it (suckers!). Thanks, guys. Cutbacks? Did the company just fire the guys who can write Mac code before they wrote the driver to boost the corporate bottom line? It is a mystery...

Well, enough vitriol for HP. On a very positive front for Macheads, I recommend Adium, a multiple-protocol chat program that is excellent. Check it out: http://www.adiumx.com/

It supports AIM, Jabber, MSN, Yahoo, IRC, and others. Download it and try it out. Res ipsa loquitur.

Most of my posts won't be technical in nature, I'm sure. Don't despair.

-PMOS

Brave New World

2005-08-08T21:39:00.000-05:00

So, this is the Blogosphere, eh? I suppose it is reasonable to stake out a little corner of Cyberspace where one can confine his inconsequential ranting. Actually, I'm not really expecting anybody to read this. It's more of a catalyst to spur me to write more often, and perhaps to also post some things I've already written. If others derive some pleasure or insight from it, so much the better.

Back later with something worth reading (perhaps).

-PMOS