Sublime Contradictions, Unfolding Promises

A PathNorth Journey Into and Out of Africa

Poem by Ethiopia & Kenya Experience participant and PathNorth member,
Reverend Dr. Robert M. Franklin (Bob)

It all started here.
The myth makers, scientists and sacred scribes in surprising consensus affirm that the mystery of life in human variety began in this verdant garden. Lucy’s bones and Genesis creation share this zip code.
PathNorth has now finally journeyed back to the human future. 
Contradictions. Not all of them are as sublime as this. And, if sublime points to the art of converting and refining something into a thing of higher worth, then, we are in the right place.

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote that the “test of a first rate intelligence is ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function”. 
The journey begins. Not in a garden but at the gate of a palace, the Grand one of Addis Ababa.
We stand outside in the shadow of the Entoto mountains, and receive our VIP wristbands. And we stand, and stand and stand, security checks growing more severe by the minute. Another group of travelers arrive. They are ushered forward by another line. We are VIPs too, but some proclaimed, ‘there are VIPs and there are VIPs, next time I will wear a tie.’ Next time, more sublime.

We visit Hamlin Fistula Hospital. Miracles happen there. It is the right zip code for them. Cheryl and Marlene offer medical perspective. As two dogs, the black and the white, frolic amidst souls that bear unspoken suffering and scars and shame. They look up from recovery beds and smile at us. They have something to look forward to. Surgery converts into something better. They already have higher value.
Each one receives a new dress. A woman-child’s promise unfolds. Tomorrow will be sublime.

Doug, our fearless, truly fearless leader and seeker, reminds us of Ecclesiastes 4, “Two are better than one...if either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.” 
He invited us here to see the unfolding promise of this ancient land trying to regain balance and momentum after many powers subdued it. 
Doug introduces our guide to this land and its stories, a man called Abraham. In Hebrew, that means ‘father of multitudes’. Doug’s friend is now our friend and father, too. And, his wife is called Salem, shalom, peace. For us, a ‘mother of peace’ as we see women crafting scarves and baskets. She too, helps others to get up. We wear her scarves to dinner and dancing. Bet the crafters of these scarves never imagined their work would travel and glide and soar this way. The particular becomes universal. Sublime.

We sit in Salem’s shop, a village of empowerment, entrepreneurial power and love, coffee beans roasting on an open fire. We take our macchiatos without fanfare, no venti, skinny, almond milk, no foam, or extra hot modifiers, just the nectar of the beans lovingly cooked, pounded and poured by a daughter of the dust. 
An elder is now needed, for there is bread, the bread of life that is broken for you.
Barry, our elder, who traveled here in the 1960s rises, taller than the Entoto hills, and cuts the first slice. We all partake.
In our reflection time, he asks, ‘why do 20 busy people do a trip like this?’ Maybe we are stumbling through life, searching for deeper meanings, renewing purpose, trying to help others get up.
His life partner, Lalita, has answered part of this in her novels, ‘Cane River’ and ‘Red River’, of women, her kinswomen who helped others to get up. We all thrill to witness promises of freedom finally fulfilled. 

A new day finds us ready to meet the children, the girls and boys of Africa’s unfolding promise. But, we have a sacred crisis, or is it an opportunity? Dangerous opportunity. 
We board a bus on this Sunday morning, that also happens to be an Indian holy festival day named ‘Diwali’, or Festival of Lights. 
Our bus sputters, coughs, groans, but does not go very far. We leave the bus and walk 30 meters comfortably home. The bus experiences resurrection. It is Sunday.  We rebound. The bus ascends a hill, climbing higher toward promise. It meets one red light, one obstacle and dies again. 
Now, we are surrounded by rushing traffic. But, a chariot from the Shalom Center arrives. Salem is praying for us. We do what sacred truth seekers have always done, we exodus. We arrive at a promised land and are met by children with testimonies. Once they were in distress but now approach the sublime. They speak of a man named Ermias, who changed their lives. Abraham changed his life. Two are better than one, for if one falls...

The mountains are always in sight but only a few of us venture up. Chicago Don and Aurimas ascend and discover an ancient church hidden in the brush. Speaking of the sacred, a Queen of Sheba reigned here (1 Kings 10) and an Ethiopian eunuch returned here after baptism from Jerusalem (Acts 8:26). When you stand that high, that near the sacred, Carl Sandburg once said, you can ‘see far in all directions.’

The journey around our ancient garden neighborhood continues with a flight, now above the mountains, what a mystery that women and men can now fly, and look down upon it all. Better able to see who has fallen and needs help getting up. 

Our flight to Nairobi includes bread and beverages. This bread is called fish pie. But fish rarely fly this high. One bite is enough to convince you that fish, indeed, should not be here. 

Our father of multitudes, journeys with us southward to a land he knows well. Proud and busy and bustling and elegant Kenya.  

We are now compressed into a smaller bus, but one rich in diesel fuel. It’s sides bulge slightly bowing under the weight of a pyramid of luggage piled above.
A group this size tends to expand with each day. 
Yes, we did eat that many meals in one day. 
And a group this size needs guides and sherpas to help elevate us. 

Gloria and Jennifer are gentle but firm sisters of efficiency, grit and mercy. They patiently demonstrate the art of cat herding and Doug-whispering. They are blessed among women. 

Meanwhile, Doug never whispers when he might. No, he feels obligated to compose a revised version of the Kenyan National Anthem, and as if composition was not a sufficient show of genius, he performs (or inflicts) it for us. We cannot flee or wander here, we are confined to this shrinking bus as his shrieks enlarge. Patty prays that the authorities will not hear this, and banish us all. That execution room back in the Grand Palace is empty. 

We take our lunch in the compound of one who made her exodus Out of Africa. Karen Blixen’s legacy frames our hospitality. But, we are met by another woman who loves Kenya. 
An introduction for some, a great reunion for veteran PathNorthers who adore Laila Macharia, mother of mayors and queens. Young visionaries from the Silicon Savannah join us to speak of Kenya’s tech promise. 
The drink menu promises the therapy we now need from fish pie, compact transportation and unprompted live solo concert. They are named fantastically: ‘Saints and Sinners”, “Elephant Mudbath”, “Crocodile in the Sky”, “Mamba Venom” and, of course, “the Carnivore Dawa.”  Doug will take one of each along with a Tusker, and another, to settle his nerves and vocal chords. 

We arrive at our refuge center, a blissful grove called Hemingways.  A garden of Eden, from which we, too, are expelled much too soon. We will all return someday.

Ernest Hemingway said, ‘life breaks all of us, but some are made strong in the broken places.’
Arriving at the lovely home built by Mugo and Laila is a dream long in the making. But, that is what these two do, they dream and they make them come true. They unfold promises by helping people to get up. 
We reunite with their son, his princely manner becoming more evident and articulate. We met him years ago as a charming toddler who earned the title of ‘little mayor’ Kibati, but now we see the path ahead for him and for his darling sister.  

Goat meat roasting on an open fire. We sit at a table spread for royalty, yes to eat again. Didn’t we just....Nevermind.
At lunch, we sat with dynamic visionaries of technical promise. Now we dine with the conscience of Africa. These women and men of integrity, courage and imagination. Some were far away from home, but they have returned, not as messiahs but messengers. 
Vincent, the professor tells of a crisis in 2007 when neighbors made war on neighbors, Cain and Able redux. 
A voice of conscience called him of a different tribe and people, to ask, ‘what are we going to do about this?’ Two are better than one...

But, a multitude stepped forward.
John, the banker, is changing the narrative about drought and climate change.
Regina, the athlete entrepreneur, is guiding World Under 20, using sports to heal and develop the youth. But, they worry about inequality, the kind that shakes mighty kingdoms and spills the masses into parks for protest.
As we engage in PathNorth exchange at this table, around the globe this very week we hear echoes of anger and despair: Beirut, Hong Kong, Chile, Capital Hill.

Departing late, we board the bus, it twists and turns to pass through a narrow stone gate. That is our challenge of navigating the future that lifts those who are broken. But, our driver has competence, like every member of this Ethiopia to Kenya delegation. We know our stuff and wear the scarf of accomplishment with humility and grace. Even that grace cannot disguise our absolute exhaustion. This is the longest day of the trip, the longest night. We return to Hemingway paradise and Doug announces, ‘ who is ready for a Tusker so we can continue that discussion on rethinking capitalism?’ Did anyone really join him?

Our final urban field trip is to a place called a slum, a generic and universal marker of the forgotten and forbidden zones of our zip codes. But, we discover these are real people, it has a real name, Kawangware. These are our neighbors. They have been knocked down and they have fallen often but still they have Livelyhoods. They have hair salons, and solar stoves delivered to your door.
Children once idle and in trouble, now contributing, earning, making the world better.
There is an etiquette for journeying through a crowded street market. Claire and the bright young walking- guides orient us by suggesting that we secure valuables and ask permission for photos. Doug adds, ‘Whenever I’m in the open air markets of the world I always buy a live chicken.’ 
So...there’s that. 

Live chickens is an apt metaphor for PathNorthers who fly into the Masai Mara National Reserve by prop plane. only four stops today.  Will anyone believe our eight minute flight.
But, courage is rewarded by sightings of the Big Five, or Four. Lions, leopards, Cape Buffalo, elephants and rhinos are the stars of the evening show. Supporting casts of migrating wildebeests, elegant zebra, prowling cheetah with sagging belly, speeding gazelle, waiting vultures, prancing Masai ostrich, chomping hyena and towering giraffe demand more respect.
Someone said, ‘the lion and the lamb may lay down together, but the lamb doesn’t get much sleep.’

A theologian from Morehouse named Howard Thurman said, ‘do not ask what the world needs. Just go out and do what makes you come alive. What the world needs is people who have come alive.’
That’s what President Jomo Kenyatta attempted in Kenya and what Emperor Haile Selassie in Ethiopia. That’s what the little Mayor and the petite princess will do in time.
Why do twenty people drop what they are doing to join this journey, this portable bench chat?
We have come far to study contradictions and promise.

Strong in the broken places. That’s the story here. 
His name was Ermias. He changed lives one hug at a time. 
There is magic in that. 
We all want to be hugged. We all hug the ones who are tender to us. 
But, he hugged the unhuggable. Loved the unlovable. 
One by one, the tears appeared in the eyes of the children washing away contradictions. Their voices hush as they share their testimonies.
They know he cared.
Now, they know we care.
A hug. A visit. A scholarship gift. 
They change lives, and unleash promises. 
Simple and sublime and complete. 
Welcome home humanity, welcome to Africa.