Citizenship

"Luke's patience was tested." The farcical euphemism is one of Ed's favorite methods of expression. Alan, the cab driver chuckles. His patience was tested too. And Ed's. I'm here to serve Jesus, so I don't get to be outwardly bitter, and this is my outlet. Bear with me. After landing in Nairobi, we had to stand in line to obtain our visas. We were off the plane pretty quickly, and most everyone else had to stop and fill out the veritable cornicopia (oh I will) of paperwork that we had already filled out on the plane, so we were near the front. To our left were several other shorter, faster-moving lines for passengers who qualified for other types of entry. One line was for Kenyan citizens only, another for citizens of other East African nations. Citizenship indeed has its privileges. Ed breezed through first. Expecting the same ease, I stepped up to discover that there was one small item of paperwork missing [cue sad Charlie Brown music].

I filled out the missing form and stepped to the back of the now prodigious line. Apparently I unwittingly merged into the middle of a group of Indian kinsfolk (the kind from India). An hour later, as we neared the front, the woman from their party directly in front of me realized she was missing paperwork too, and asked me if I would allow her to return to her place. Meanwhile the rest of them were filling out all of their paperwork while in line. She returned and I let her in. At this point, they begin to slide their carry-on luggage into my calves, then next to me, then in front of me. Then the nudged in beside me, and one asked "Are you in the queue?" I replied with a nod, "Yes, I'm in line." Except it was a nod that said "Oh, you mean you haven't noticed that I've been in front of you this whole time? Or you haven't noticed that I let your friend return to her spot after having the same issue that sent me to the back of the line? Or you haven't noticed my feet occupying the floor-space into which you're trying to slide your bags? Or you haven't realized that just because the thirteen of you know each other doesn't permit you to uproot anyone between you and your kinsfolk? Yes, I'm in LINE, thankyouverymuch." (I can say a lot with a nod; I'm quite gifted.) Unfortunately, I don't think they spoke nod, and they continued to edge in front of me.

By the time they reached the front, the 6 of them that had been behind me were now in front, and I waited an extra 20 minutes. I should have purchased Kenyan citizenship an hour earlier. Finally, I stepped up, and the visa official looks up and pronounces, as if he was irritated, "I tell you come right back." Salt. Wounds. As he is reviewing my paperwork and stamping my passport, he continues to tell me - at least four more times - flipping the words around a little, just so it would sound new and fresh. "Come here straight, I say." More salt. "Why you don't come back?" Lemon juice. "I say you come straight." Vinegar and alcohol. "You come back, I tell you before." Hydrochloric acid. After the second time, I just stopped answering him. As I look back on the situation, I can see that God was in control. God obviously prevented me from being in possession of some sort of bludgeoning instrument at the time. Had I been toting a baseball bat, or a pipe wrench, or one of those nifty two-by-fours with a few nails through it, there would have been many bludgeonings.

We were picked up by our trusty chauffeur, Alan, the aforementioned cabbie who waited all that time with Ed's name on a sign (VIP status). He took us to the Anglican Guest House, where the accommodations were excellent. The following morning, we had a breakfast of cooked carrots with zucchini, whole fried baby potatoes, some sort of cross between pastrami and bacon, and porridge that was painfully bland, but "rich in iron" or so we were told. It reminded me of the stuff they eat in the Matrix. I salted the porridge and it tasted like salt. I'm not one to eat just salt. One of my rules. (Side note: why couldn't we have been "the cilantro of the earth?" Or "the juniper of the earth?" Or "the saffron of the earth?" Even "the pepper of the earth" is cooler. Salt isn't that awesome.) After breakfast, we had an engrossing conversation with three young Dutch guys. Japeth, Coen, and Burt (people from not-USA have sweet names) are from just outside Rotterdam, where there is apparently a revival of real Christianity among university students. They were excited about the elder-led model their church had implemented, noted several times that Christianity is a relationship and not a religion, and were intensely curious to learn what they could from us while at the same time being truly and humbly knowledgeable about scripture. Sitting at a continental breakfast in Nairobi with Ed and three Dutch guys I discovered what I had been missing the night before. Citizenship. To have an instant and genuine connection with someone from a foreign culture with foreign customs in a place that is foreign to both parties is citizenship of a higher quality. When we left, I felt refreshed, and I'm sure it had little to do with breakfast.