African Fine

We host a lot of teams at Missions of Hope. Work teams, vision teams, individuals, organizations. We prepare for many of them. And some show up unexpected. It’s Kenya. It’s culture. It’s fine.

Two weeks ago, two life-long friends came to visit me from the States. Best gift of the year.

While chatting about the last year of life, we talked about something that they had recently talked about in their young married group. The four-letter word in marriage.

Fine.

“I’m fine,” they shared with us, never really means exactly that. In fact, this four-letter-word can be used to mask all sorts of unspoken emotions, disagreements and thoughts, bottled up and ready to be unleashed with the proper questioning and tone.

At the same time, Chris Kamalski (whom many of you know from my former life), was visiting with his beautiful bride, Maxie.

An Afrikaaner, she shared what we also find to be true in Kenya. Fine, means simply that.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine: adverb: in a satisfactory or pleasing manner; very well.”

In America, this question bothered me. Not delving into the turmoil or depth of emotion that I was convinced lived in each person would drive me crazy.

Yeah, maybe that’s a bit intense. But, like most things in life, my perspective has changed again.

Because, you see, here – people are very private with some things – and very public with others.

Your money is a very public thing. Public property in fact. If you have, you are expected to give.

What is actually going on in your life, however, is a very private thing. Such as relationships. A wedding invitation is a common way to learn that a couple is together.

But there are more reasons for this than I understand. It’s a different worldview, despite our shared language and words. So in Kenya, for this question, Fine is fine. It suffices for the normal greetings of the day. Good, fine, healthy, well, cool – they all work for the initial greeting.

Sometimes I wonder if I try too hard to think about the question. Or the answer. Am I really fine? It inevitably brings me to think about how often I think about… me. Really, it’s quite often. How am I doing? What am I doing with my life?

There’s another question I hear a lot. Primarily from visiting teams. “Do you like it here?” To which I always respond, “Of course!” I am, after all, still living here. Year two well underway. My job, my life, my teammates – they have become home. A home where I’m learning by welcoming.

All sort of people come to visit us. People looking to serve, people looking for God. People who come believing that they have been sent, and people who have no idea what they are looking for. And most want to know if we like it here. They ask with words. We use words a lot for this sort of thing. It’s small talk. It’s a legitimate question of curiosity. It’s a step towards relationship.

“Do you like what you are doing?”

The real answer?

Some days, I do. And some days, I struggle. Kind of like – any job in the world. There is nothing glamorous about working with the poor, or living in a developing country. The intrigue that draws us to the slum community never quite wears off, because we never quite understand. But the glamour does. The initial spurt of energy does. The paper-work and adminstrative details that make an organization run are not the daily-visit-someone’s-home-and-have-your-life-changed kinds of experiences.

But since when was that the reason for doing the work? When were we promised that we would always enjoy what we are doing? Where did the gospel of self-fulfillment mix become the result of our ‘salvation’?

As my rooomates-turned-sisters prepare to move on in their lives, we have done a terrible amount of reflection together. A lot of what we have spent our time invested into the last year and half did not result in tangible results.

We are changed. We are different. It’s been beautiful, it’s been rough, and it’s been

fine: of high Quality.

Another meaning to another word.

But we each came seeking Jesus. Wanting to follow him. Wanting to be a part of his work. Knowing we would be changed in the process, but having no idea how that would look. And now we are beginning to see.

That there is still a lot more to learn, and many more definitions to let go of.

A reality that, as I am increasingly more comfortable in saying, is fine.

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