Ludicrous

I realize that the title of this particular blog post may seem rather depressing. But between huge amounts of homework, stress and less than huge amounts of sleep, it's been an interesting couple of weeks...

In my IB drama class, we’ve been studying the Theatre of the Absurd. It’s essentially a movement that came out of World War 2. After the complete devastation of the war, philosophers and artists believed that if we, the human race, could exact such destruction on each other; we must be in charge of our own destiny. Therefore, the power to do good or evil lay in each of us, rather in the hands of the divine. As a firm believer in the presence of divine in this sorry wreck of a world, I found my personal beliefs hard to resolve with this practice. I believe that life, rather than being meaningless and circular, is actually full of meaning. The past few weeks have tried their best to convince me otherwise.

It all starts with homework. The International Baccalaureate is supposed to make you intelligent, but, there are days I feel like an idiot for ever signing up for this. I finish all my homework, feel incredibly successful and get the same amount of work the next day. I feel as if the stress should be relieved, that this next day or week won’t be as bad as the previous one. And, I’m sure you can guess what comes after this. It never seems to end, the stress, the work, the late hours, the sleep deprivation. I realize that I’m working towards a goal (graduation) but it’s feeling very distant at the moment. Yes, absurd, in the 1960s theatre practice sense of the word.

People. They’re difficult. And yet, as part of my creed, I realize that we are called to love all, indiscriminately. Still, that’s really only fully done by our Creator, the only perfect one I know. So, I promise myself that I’ll be genuine with all and love like I’m asked to. It never happens. I get frustrated and snap. Sometimes I have a legitimate excuse. More often than not, it’s stress, too little sleep, and adolescent hormones. Still, I snap and a few minutes later, feel like the worst person in the world. I can’t get over the persistence of the voice in my head that tells me to love, always and fully. My efforts? Seem ludicrous.

Futility. It surrounds me. The refugee camp in Dadaab is growing every day. People die every day because they haven’t had food, or proper food, for weeks, maybe even months. Politicians continue to slip money that isn’t theirs into their own pockets every day. We go on with our lives, untouched by despair. Economies are on the verge of collapse. People are doing research into weapons that could destroy the entire world, while others look for the cure for cancer. We, as a human race, complain, point our finger and just generally make our discontent known, and then do nothing about it. Fruitless. Pointless. Ineffective.

Such is the world we live in. I am not enough. You are not enough. We are not enough. We do not have the competence to tackle life in all its futility. That’s why I reject the view that there is no God. If there is none, life is nothing but a destructive circle. I have to remind myself when I can’t see a way out of the garbage that there is something higher, something divine who is closely involved in my life, our lives. So, the real reason that this blog post is entitled ludicrous is not because I actually believe that any of this work that I’m doing or stress that I’m undergoing is ludicrous. It’s not. But without my Father in the skies, it would be. So if you’re feeling small or insignificant, be reminded that you are indeed, rather lacking in significance. Still, I would have to say 

that being a worthwhile insignificant is a pretty decent calling.

“You hold the world within Your hands
And see each tear that falls
Through every fire and every storm
You're always enough, always enough” – Casting Crowns

Muddy

So, I created this blog with the intention of sharing my adventurous activities in my last year in Kenya. This definitely qualifies. This entire story takes place between 2:30 pm and 5:30 pm yesterday (September 4th). Before I begin, keep two things in mind: 1. I'm actually a 12 year old kid at heart and 2. This is Africa: continent of vicious downpours and intense mud.

So, yesterday was the middle school youth group kick-off (I helped out last year and hopefully, will this year). It was held at the Forestry Service's Headquarters in Karura Forest. This can only be reached by a steep dirt road that is narrow and lined by two fairly deep ditches. I arrived around 2:30 with another of the leaders, and two of the kids. When we got there, we noticed that the Canadian embassy were having some sort of picnic/celebration, so we'd have to work around two large canvas tents and a hoard of Canadians. We waited around for the rest of the team, and then set up camp and prayed before the kids came. Around 3:00, kids started to show up. Around 3:05, it began to rain. Being optimistic and a little bit naive, we presumed it would stop and we could get on with youth group... It was not meant to be..

By 3:30, it was down pouring, Kenya style. Then, the forest rangers decided to inform us that the roads were impassable when it rained to much, and basically, everyone had to leave NOW. So, I ran out in the rain to the end of the field where the boys were still playing football and call them all in. Meanwhile, we had to get kids back in their cars and send them home. Unfortunately, some parents had left and there was very little we could do. So, we started phoning parents, asking them to come get their kids. By this time, I was soaked through from running through the rain. Three of the boys were mud sliding in a huge mud puddle, and I really really wanted to join in.

At this moment, two of my favorite middle school girls ever showed up. They had walked all the way from the gate, in the pouring rain and mud just to get to youth group. It was heart-breaking to tell them that youth group was actually cancelled, so I followed it with an immediate, "Want to go mud-sliding with me?". And off we went. No, I didn't really bother to think about the consequences of my actions. I was having a good time! So, we slid through mud (my knee got a hardcore scrape) for a few minutes, kicked muddy water at each other, and overall got soaked/muddy all the way through.

Eventually, we had to pack up and try and make our way out of the forest. I piled into a station wagon with the three guys who had been mud sliding so we could concentrate the mud into one car. We got about 500 meters out of the centre, on the main road, and we had to stop. There was a HUGE line-up of cars that were backed up behind the car in front that had gotten stuck. So, Michelle, one of the leaders, jumped out of her car and decided to walk two kids to the front gate where their parents were waiting. This was around 4:00. We sat there for the next thirty or so minutes, waiting for Michelle to come back. In the meantime, the three boys (that turned into four boys) and I had a good (?) time. The middle school boys in the back were more than happy to entertain us with Michael Jackson jokes, 'yo mama' jokes and all sorts of other tomfoolery.

Finally, the forest rangers decided to inform us that "actually, there's another exit you can use that actually doesn't require driving on ANY treacherous roads". Thanks, guys. So, we then have to turn around three cars, one of which doesn't have a driver at the moment. Eventually, though, we figured it out and turned around all three cars with very little mishap. We got out the other gate safely, without Michelle. Her phone wasn't working so I couldn't contact. Finally, she used someone else's phone to call us. Turns out, she'd been walking up and down the line of THIRTY CARS that were stuck on this kilometre-stretch of dirt road, trying to organize everyone and turn everyone around so they could all get out. Michelle eventually showed up with mud all over her flip flops, tired, but not too much worse for the wear. By 5:30, I was home. I ran straight to my bathroom, took a shower, and rinsed my clothes out about five times before throwing them into the washer.

Then, I proceeded to tell the entire story to my parents, who couldn't believe that their seventeen year old daughter was stupid enough to go mud sliding and get soaked through a few days after she'd suffered from a cold. Yes, I am that seventeen year old daughter and I'm proud of every moment of yesterday. Even the moments where I scraped huge amounts of skin off of my elbows and knees while sliding through a ginormous mud puddle. I made a decision to live life to the full and to the deep this year. I believe I honored that decision yesterday.