It's Sunday - so I'm thinking of PMC and excited that I'll be back together with you all next Sunday morning (though I may be nodding off with jet lag).

Without the group and staying with a local couple here at 22 Cambridge (Airbnb), I feel a bit less like a tourist. This neighborhood even feels slightly like Portland. It's eclectic and I was amused to find a "Woodstock Brewery". Sure enough, they even have a tap list that reminds me of Oregon. I was smiling away when a young woman approached me (ok, this was NOT like Portland, haha). She said, "Not to brag, but my uncle is the owner." We ended up sitting together for part of the evening. I learned they use they/them pronouns which this uncle has a hard time with. It was easy relating with them. They told me about a movie showing across the street the next evening which they were promoting - the info was on their instagram which I am now following.

Flash forward 24 hours and I was walking to the movie (note, sidewalks not very accessible to alter-abled bodies). The venue is a resale shop so small I walked past it the first time. Then I found its A-board sign but the arrow pointed the wrong way. By word of mouth I finally was in the door and paying 100 Rand for admission including popcorn. Only about a dozen people (in various skin tones from black to white) showed up. They were all about 35 years younger than me, but it didn't seem to matter. Everyone crammed into a small room with poor ventilation. Me and another guy were the only ones to sit on the loan couch. There were cushions on floor for the others. Sadly, the (dis)organizers failed to acquire the film advertised, so they were streaming another South African film: Tsotsi. One viewer was culled by that disappointment. Then, about half way through, the video started buffering. An intermission was called while it was downloaded so the rest could be shown without interruption. The audience just rolled with it. 

The context of the film is the desperate circumstances of what could easily be a local Township. Generational poverty exacerbated by horrific systemic racism and corruption breeds pain and violence. And yet, even the hardened Tsotsi finds enough love in the end to crack his heart open and do the right thing.

I walked home in the dark, very conscious of my surroundings and very grateful to reach my lodgings safely. 
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My new friend, El, never even showed up, but I messaged them and we might still connect before I leave. Soon I'll return to Portland just north of SE Woodstock where I'm truly a local.

February 2 was our last full day together as a group, and we packed in a lot.

Our guide in Cape Town, Ray, took the 9 of us in a van all the way down to the Cape of Good Hope. Many confuse this with the southern tip of Africa, but it's not. That didn't stop Dean from making jokes about it ("I can see the line between the Indian and Atlantic oceans", etc.).

In that area we drove past Imhoff Farm and wondered if Maurice knows he has relatives here? 
We drove through a smaller township that Ray claimed was safe enough. I especially liked the signage on some of the shops.

We were delighted to see several ostriches near the coast. And even more special was a colony of rare African Penguins.

Finishing off the day, we were taken to a pan-African restaurant called Gold. They had a prix fixe menu with each dish from a different African country. In addition to the delicious food, we began the evening all drumming. Here, we really noticed many in the crowd did not follow directions well. I figure our group's familiarity with PMC's song leading gave us a great advantage!

Our faces were painted, and we enjoyed a performance. Being late, we drew the line when it was time for us to join in the dancing at the end. I would've struggled through it, but didn't complain when we left. 

Early the next morning I said farewell to the group. They headed to an all-day spa and then on to the airport. I went to an art museum and then to where I'm staying for my final week in Cape Town.

It's a major shift in my travel experience to be on my own again, and I miss the group, both socially and the security of having things planned out. On the other hand, it was nice to lose track of time in the museum and not worry about holding up the others.
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Prayers for safety, wisdom and divine encounters appreciated!
​TK

A highlight of our time in Johannesburg was touring some of SOWETO, which we learned stands for South West Townships. The history of townships is segregation, not too unlike what we experienced in the US. And its legacy is poverty and injustice to this day, though improvements have been made since the end of apartheid.

We drove through this huge suburb and saw both decent and desperate areas. Writing to you, the church in Portland, it seems appropriate and gratifying to share about the church we toured there. Regina Mundi Catholic is a vibrant and colorful beacon in SOWETO. In the movement to end apartheid, it was a center for action. When tensions came to a head, police fired in the church (see photo with blue windows and bullet holes in the ceiling). It reminded me of churches in the US South during the '60s ... and the threats of ICE now.

Today, the church has some really meaningful artwork that reflects the context it's in.
Some of the stained glass windows show light-skinned biblical characters inside, but from the outside, they're dark-skinned. Then at night, the opposite phenomenon takes place.
Outside the building, vendors are free to hopefully thrive from the tourists who stop by (like Janna Moats, pictured).

I'm grateful for PMC and all churches that weather hard times with courage and sanctuary. And who celebrate the beloved community with the vibrancies of all the arts.

We missed a flight connection in Nairobi and had to spend the night there. That caused a lot of hassle, stress, and frustration. At least it showed our group of 9 has some reserves of stamina and patience. Tired and tested, we all remained relatively calm.
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Our reward has been 2+ days of safaris. We've seen some amazing wildlife and enjoyed the camaraderie of it all. We thought of PMC tonight (from 10 hours from now). As we were having supper, we figured it was about time for prayer requests (and we're grateful for your prayers!).

I hired a car to finally join with the group in the Kilimanjaro area of Tanzania. One driver took me to the border, stopping to greet elephants (from a safe distance) along the way. Then I said goodbye to Kenya and another driver took me to the lodge Colleen booked for Woven, the name she and Janna chose for our tour, supporting and learning about the work of LOOM International. I must say, after my various challenges over the first days of my solo travel, it's an enormous relief to now be surrounded by familiar faces and a set tour.

We had an intense three days here that's difficult for me to summarize. What stands out most is the slow but momentous development happening with childhood education. Before this trip, I had a romanticized, superficial view of the Maasai people. In our little trips, I've now seen or heard about their poverty, lack of education, and childhood marriages. Various local partners of LOOM took us around to see new schools, villages, and even "special toilets" that are exponentially improving the lives of these people God loves.​

Note: If you grow up in an authentic Maasai context, you'll know little or nothing of what a toilet is. And if you build a school, it needs toilets. But the ground is very hard. And with limited budgets
that building only happens with a lot of hard work. Art one school we were told their toilets were special because it literally took years to dig them. A nearby school thought of a shortcut: look for the widest anthill and build on that softer material (after removing the ants). It gives new significance to the concept of a "throne room". In the end (haha), both are special.

​I asked at my lodgings if there was a church they recommended nearby for Sunday morning. Already I'd heard loud music, speaking in tongues, Muslim calls to prayer, and more from where I was staying. With open-air pavilion-style meeting places, sound carries far and wide. My favorite staff person, Neema, seemed to suggest St. Andrew's. 
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I arrived around 11, interrupting the service, thanks to the usher who led me near the front of the meeting space. The Anglican priest switched from Swahili to English, stating the obvious, "We have a guest today..." I was welcomed and had the opportunity to share a few words to introduce myself. Then I was assigned an interpreter named Kaipha to sit next to me. If I understood him correctly, he also has connections with Compassion and was eager to meet with me afterwards. I then also met Grace, a director of, I forget what.

Back to the service - I was just in time for a couple of numbers from the choir of nearly 20 voices with rich multi-part harmony. It was worth being there just for that. Then a praise team of 7 led some more music with everyone standing. 
A young woman intern gave the message based on Daniel, the brave man thrown in the fire for not worshipping the local gods. She seemed like a gifted preacher, though the decimals were at the top of my threshold for tolerance. 

The offering was unlike any I've seen. People filed to the front, dropping in a wooden box identical, wallet-like envelopes of shillings (or M-Pesa - kind of a national Venmo?) The ushers, as you can see, wore reflective vests and were all business, following various protocols of putting the box in a bag afterwards, etc. It was fascinating.

I thought of PMC, eleven time zones behind us here, and was warmed by the anticipation of when we'll worship together again. I also felt the spiritual abundance and diversity of the church worldwide. I'm very blessed to experience it in Voi, Kenya.

Friday the 16th was the exciting day I got to meet Mercy, the girl I sponsor through Compassion International. One blemish in the day was that I did not have any Kenyan Shillings, as the Sponsor is expected to pay for everything! Somehow, my debit card didn't work with Kenyan ATMs and got blocked. Then, within the first 9 minutes of meeting Mercy, I tripped over a speaker cabinet and twisted my foot! Five days later, it's still sore.  But despite the multiple servings of humble pie, I'm deeply grateful for this day.

These photos are from the last portion of the day when we got to relax at a rustic little resort near the Tanzanian border. It included a dusty little shed with some electric kiddie cars and a bike. I'd already written her some time ago about how I get around Portland by bike, and she'd written back that she's never had a chance to learn to ride. Immediately, I had fantasies of running alongside her and witnessing her first triumphant ride! Sadly, it was quickly apparent that this heavy old clunker was more a liability (to both of us) than an opportunity.

The group photo from left to right includes Valentina, Project Director, Pastor Benson of the hosting church (Assemblies of God), Mercy's mother, Pauline, and the Compassion Day Host, Faith. All such wonderful people.

Our gift exchange was a highlight. I love the blanket from the Project staff, "Welcome Uncle Tim...", though I wish the Kenyan flag were as big or bigger than the US one. But from Mercy's family, I got a waist belt with only the Kenyan flag on it. Of the gifts for Mercy, the one I'll mention here is a calendar/date book planner. I told her I was her age when I first started to keep a diary, and how it's fun for me to look back on that now. But it came to me in the moment that this could also be a small step toward her dream of becoming a doctor. I suggested that one day she'd need to keep track of her appointments with patients. Mercy is brilliant, has a great attitude, and is surrounded by these loving people with just enough resources, so it could happen. I pray she'll have a real sense now and always of how she resides in God's love and rich loving kindness, regardless of all else.

​At first, I simply perceived Roy as pastor Samson's sidekick. He's so quiet I had to remind myself not to leave him out of our conversations. I described the next leg of my journey where I would meet my sponsored child, and was taken aback when Roy offered to accompany me. Not having gone through the screening process, I warned that he'd likely not be able to meet Mercy. Plus, he had no arrangements for transport or lodging, nor any money. Still, I was sorry to tell him no.

Up early due to jet lag, I thought more about Roy AND my situation. I felt God's nudge to open myself to possibilities. Then I texted him and invited him to come along after all. He's 20 and lives at home. Within a short time, he got the green light from family and Samson, too.

We connected in Mombasa proper after Samson, and I exited the ferry. Luckily, the train to Voi wasn't sold out. After deboarding the train, we walked to our lodgings. I'd reserved an extra tent for him next to mine. The walk was further than I expected, and we had no shillings for a ride, but he took over, hauling my suitcase and even carrying it over eroded areas where it couldn't be pulled. I knew already I'd made the right choice!

​Indeed, he couldn't go on the day trip to meet Mercy. But it was his first time in Voi, so he got to explore on his own and also swim at the lodge. Over our two days together, we became friends. He lives in such abject poverty that he worried about the fare to get home once he was back in Mombasa. I gratefully considered all he did for me and paid him for being my "Personal Assistant".
Tonight, we're hoping to have a video call so I can meet his family. Please pray for Roy, a part of Mombasa Mennonite. He has a heart of gold - and is trapped in a cycle of poverty.

​I arrived on time in Mombasa, despite numerous challenges in Portland and Chicago, but my checked bag didn't make it, yet! That is extremely disappointing because it has the gifts I'd wanted to present to the whole church. Still, my time with the church was good. I preached an impromptu sermonette which was translated into Swahili as I went. Then the church sent their greetings (please edit out my voice as much as possible). Brother Samson also preached, sometimes looking to me with long asides in English. The service was from 3 till 5:30 or so. Numerous times Samson said he was wrapping it up but then found quite a bit more to say. There were also several others who shared including one woman who said she had never seen a white man sitting among them and how encouraging that was.
That's all for now -
I'm sweating in my mosquito net,
TK