How did I come to listen to Korean Rap? Well, aren’t you supposed to get involved with the interests of your children? One of my dorm kids LOVES Korean rap, so it came to me to ask him, “Hey, can I groove on your jam?” Or something to that effect. So, I listened to a CD of Korean rap. I actually love American rap, especially when I can’t make out the words. I love the energy. It’s just when I can make out the words that I am depressed and horrified. Not knowing the words was actually helpful, and now I can say I have become exposed to a new music form. Which is not exactly the kind of art form that I expected to be exposed to when I moved to Kenya.

We had to do our alien registration this week. Although you have to have a passport to come into Kenya, and you pay no small fee in order to stay in Kenya, one must also be registered as an alien. It seems like it would be a fast and easy process, but it wasn’t.

You just don’t go to Nairobi and register. You have to go to Nairobi (one hour each way) and fill out some paperwork. You also pay your fee. This enables you to return the following week to actually begin the process. Why it can’t be done the same day is a question without an answer, for they do no work during the week.

We arrive when the offices opened at 8:30 a.m. There were four windows, none of which were labeled. We stood in one line for a period of time, while people in the back stared at us. Finally, one of them collected paperwork of people who had appointments for this week. That person disappeared for 45 minutes. When I looked in the back, there were files everywhere; on the floor, in the chairs, in no order that I could see.

We sat and waited. Finally, they started to call names. After another thirty minutes, our name was called. There wasn’t a line; it was just a group of people hovering around a window. The woman behind the counter looked at our forms, and asked us to sign our names. At one point, she said “chai,” a common drink that is also a euphemism for a bribe.

But they didn’t know whom they were dealing with because:

1. I can’t pay a bribe; I’m a missionary.
2. I’ve negotiated contracts worth millions of dollars.
3. No one can more naturally play dumb better than me.

I kept saying I wasn’t thirsty, so after 20 minutes, we were given the forms back and told to go to another room to get finger printed.
I’ve never been finger printed before, but I don’t think that it is like this anywhere else. They took all my fingers, and then a handprint of each hand. Afterwards, they pointed to a pile of yarn and told us that we could wipe our hands on that. As we were doing so, they told us that we could return in a month to actually pick up our form. We left after about three hours there.

The sad part of this is that Kenya doesn’t understand what this costs them. I’m certainly not vital to Kenya, but taking up this much time eats up opportunities to help orphans and sick kids in the hospital. I saw a doctor there who had been there as long as we had, and all I could think of is how many people wouldn’t see him so he could wait in a line to get a sheet of paper.

Kenya has started to not allow short term doctors to practice medicine in our area. The hospital near us attracts surgeons who come at their own expense for short periods and do extensive amounts of surgeries in their specialties. It allows us to find kids with special problems and let them know when a surgeon with that skill is coming. Then they are operated on for free.

Kenya is now saying that if you don’t come for a year, you can’t use your medical skills. What is the point of this? To encourage doctors to stay longer? I’m amazed at how many doctors find time and money to come as it is; this will not help the situation. It will make it worse, far worse. Spending several hours of my life in a pointless line is one thing; preventing doctors from helping needy children is quite another. But they are both borne of the same thing: a government that no longer thinks of anything it does or any of its consequences; it just does it because it can. It is so ridiculous, and in the end, the banality of evil is what exhausts one. You can battle against an evil terrorist; how do you fight against an underpaid clerk following stupid orders?

I think I understand why people give up. I never had to fight city hall in the states, but I have a greater empathy for those who do.

We went to New Life Home on Sunday. It is an orphanage for abandoned infants. One child was actually put down a latrine and somehow survived for several days. By the time she was found, ants had actually eaten much of her skin on her face. She has recovered and is doing fine.

As we toured the beautiful facility (the absolute nicest we have seen anywhere in Kenya) we were given this sobering statistic: There are about 30 million people in Kenya. There are over 1.5 million orphans.

You do the math. They are the most sobering statistics I can think of; one of every thirty people in Kenya is an orphan.

Your pal,
Steve