Sunday...

Sunday morning, I trekked down the street to Pastor Esau's church in Kibera. The streets were full, the sun shining and energy was in the air. Unfortunately, I flew solo today as Mandy stayed behind and dealt with an upset stomach.

Four hours later, I returned home hungry and exhausted.

Four hours of interpreting pieces of Swahili, watching those around me, deciphering scripture, explaining my presence, singing and day dreaming. It made me think a great deal about the church (or any other social structure for that matter) and what it means to enter in for the first time. While familiarity allows us to relax and be comfortable, entering unknown territories has the opposite effect. I was literally exhausted by the end of it all. It made me think about what it takes to practice inclusion, to create a gracious space where all are not only welcome, but comfortable to be who they are. I thought of the international students at PLU, the visitors that walked into Trinity for the first time or even the first day on a job.

What do you do to create an environment that allows one to be himself? When do I think about the needs of the outsider-the individual whose first language, culture and customs are different than the norm?

An hour later, a taxi picked us up and took us to a field where we play ultimate frisbee every week. The grass is green, the players are white, the language is English and on the field, people are who they are. Two and a half hours of running around felt like a nap compared to the morning. I was in my element...well I should note that it is an element that is quite new. As of six weeks ago, I had never played ultimate frisbee and felt the pressure of stepping into the unknown. I wasn't an outsider this time around, nor did I feel the need to pick up on everything that was going on around me, but instead-just to be present.

The contrasts of these two parts of my day made me think a great deal about “diversity”. For a split second, it made me question some of my previous thoughts on inclusion. It made me wonder if diversity is a term that people strive for to be politically correct. Maybe it is OK to have black communities, white communities, schools and churches. What is wrong with me not wanting to be exhausted by a church service by making it “diverse”? What is wrong with me feeling more comfortable around the UN, USAID, and embassy workers on a field than those speaking fluent Swahili?

Peeling back one more layer, I see a few flaws in my theory:

1.Diversity is not just about sitting together, but about understanding one another. I think that is why my Sunday experience was so tiring-I have a lot to learn in order to understand the people of Kibera. Understanding people is no different than understanding any other complex subject. It takes time, work, energy, failure and constant attention.

2.I have to be extremely careful with what is really at stake with diversity. I get sick of the term because it tends to be a light and fluffy idealistic word for inclusion when its actual roots are formed in oppression and injustice. Is it possible that my discomfort is actually result of dealing with the past and the present, the forms of injustice and oppression that have occurred and continue to occur? That is an exhausting thought in itself. I can't just dodge it all together.

3.What if I never stepped foot in a church that made me uncomfortable? What if I never took any college courses that challenged me? What if I never took the time to hear the story whose life is drastically different from my own? Who would I be? Who would they be? What if everyone took this approach? What would our world look like?

The night ended with a tasty sandwich and playing cards with friends. It took me to a place that was comfortable, allowing me into a space where I could make sense of my day, my desire for comfort, my contributions to the whole diversity debate and what it means to be a white, male in the streets of Nairobi...once again-I am tired.