Church and Other Corrupt Places.

Mainly out of curiosity, Ina and I have been trying a new church each Sunday we’ve been here. We have quite a few options, with over 100 churches in Kitale...

The first church we went to had a congregation of 20 Kenyans, so us being the only mzungus was kind of a big deal, and everyone made a concerted effort to sit as close to us as possible. After some deafening music, the pastor excitedly asked us to stand and introduce ourselves; he apparently meant ‘give a sermon’ because he was visibly disappointed when we sat down after saying our names. After 2 hours of loud Swahili from the pastor, we still weren’t sure he’d even started his message yet, so we left (as inconspicuously as possible).

Another Sunday we went to a church in a school, with different church services going on in almost every classroom. The congregation was around 10, so us being there was quite the event. Again we were asked to come up and introduce ourselves, then 40 minutes were spent laying hands on and giving thanks for the new keyboard, which had just come in from Nairobi thanks to a members' generous donation. I narrowly escaped this ordeal by getting the pastor’s baby to fall asleep in my lap. After a 2-hour Swahinglish sermon, the pastor gave an eloquent speech about tithing, and everyone came to the front to put their money in the fancy basket, while we slipped out the back.

Last Sunday we went to a church where we were 2 of 5 mzungus in the congregation. The whole service was in English, led by Kenyans, which apparently means singing “If You’re Happy & You Know It” as a worship song. Yet again we were hauled up to the front for introductions. A Ugandan 20-year old ex-street boy gave the message, in classic fire and brimstone form, about repentance; how we need to repent for ourselves, and the sins of our tribes and families, and for when we get circumcised and our tribal elders give us strong drugs and booze to curb the pain. (I found that one debatable, and I’m not even a guy.) Just as Ina and I were about to sneak out the back door, he asked us to come to the front and repent for the sins of our respective countries. Oh boy.

Personally, I find churches here disappointingly more westernized than expected; the only fun part is singing songs like “Jesus is the Winner” with a bunch of amazingly musical Africans clapping their hands and dancing with you.

Pastors have very mixed reputations here; a select few (usually the skinny ones) actually help their communities and genuinely care about their congregations, regardless of how small they may be. Most of the pastors (typically overweight) are renown for manipulating and lying to their congregations, using all the money from their churches for nice houses and fancy cars, and sending their kids to private schools. They rival the police and government here as the most corrupt and dishonest people in leadership positions.

A pastor near the Shimo slums where we teach lives in a luxurious 2-story home. A few weeks ago he came to take pictures of the school and some of the kids. Only later did the teachers discover he put the pictures on a website, claiming he financially supports the school and all the students. He then uses any money sent to him by unsuspecting donors for personal things, with not a shilling being sent to the school. This pastor also had a very publicized affair last year… and yet still, somehow, has a congregation.

That said, every morning on the compound, all the interns hang out in the livingroom and eat breakfast, sing, wake up, read the Bible, talk about life, pray about problems. Sometimes it’s an hour, sometimes two or three, and it’s the most I've ever enjoyed anything so church-like before.

Sometimes church is not where you think it is, or it turns up where you least expect it.