Re:Creation

Like many computer programmers who spend upwards of 8 hours a day working with a keyboard and mouse, I’ve developed some physical problems as a result (classed as Repetitive Strain Injuries, or RSIs). In recent years these have gotten so serious I’ve been to one physician (mainstream and alternative) after another, looking for insight into the situation. Through that process I’ve gained an awareness of the supreme importance of things like correct posture and taking recovery breaks. I’ve also experimented with every kind of ergonomic device on the market, some of which do help. (Unfortunately, much of this is too little, too late–such is the price I pay for my unsustainable Internet lifestyle).

Well, my most recent epiphany in this process is that we humans were not meant to be sitting creatures. Standing, walking, and reclining are naturally the more ergonomically normal postures for us. And so I (and my dad, whom I recruited to help with the project) decided to try and put together a stand-up desk to use during my 8 hours a day of bondage. I had the further idea that, if it could be dismantled and fit into my 21″ x 11″ x 10″ suitcase, so much the better!

So, after taking measurements of my height and my ergonomically neutral hand and head positions, I put together this model in Google Sketchup:

The idea was to build the frame out of PVC for easy dis- and re-assembly, and to keep the weight down. However, after taking a trip to the hardware store and playing around with various materials, it became clear that (a) the desk would be pretty wobbly unless it were crisscrossed with PVC supports, (b) the massive number of PVC connectors we’d need would fill my suitcase all by themselves, and (c) construction would be very complex and difficult. So, back to the drawing board!

Approaching the idea from a different perspective, that of the question “What’s the simplest possible way to construct a piece within the appropriate ergonomic constraints?”, proved very fruitful. Almost immediately we hit upon the idea of using just 4 pieces of wood to create a satisfactory design. Of course, what we gained in utter simplicity and the sturdiness of wood, we probably lost in overall lightness. Still, surprisingly, after looking at the new design, it appeared that it would be even more likely to fit in my suitcase than the previous version. In addition, it turned out that we could build this new design with 4 pieces of wood that were exactly the same size!

The only other downside to this design is that it requires a table to stand on. Of course, finding a table or desk of the appropriate height (about 30″) shouldn’t ever prove to be too difficult.

So, this is the design we’re taking to Home Depot with which to get materials. All in all, I thought it was an interesting process, in which my natural desires to build a complicated and unworkable design were ultimately won over by something a lot more simple and obvious, which will probably successfully meet my criteria for a desk. Stay tuned: I’ll post another blog with pictures when we attempt to actually turn this into reality!

There’s a new photoset up at my Flickr page with some shots from my recent travels with Jessica and others. She came to San Francisco for a week, then I was able to visit her family in Macomb, IL. We rounded things out with a trip to Omaha, NE to watch our friend Peter swim in the Olympic trials. Anyway, check out the photos…

SF, Macomb, Omaha 6-2008

I am very pleased to announce the arrival of the third installment of Summer of Rock, my annual summer music compilation. Summer of Rock ‘06 and ‘07 have been (I flatter myself to think) great successes, and I’m hoping this year will continue the trend.

As we all know, summer is a time for making memories, and nothing goes with memories like good music. From the high-energy, sunny days to the lazy, reflective and romantic nights, this compilation will be the perfect soundtrack to your summer adventures. I’m showcasing primarily songs that have been released in the past year, though there are a handful of older favorites.

Two songs in particular deserve special mention. “Ndikumaka” was recorded by a Tumaini kid (Rosemary) and myself while in Kenya, and is a wonderful example of the talent latent in those kids. “Hello” is a new Splendour Hyaline song (Splendour Hyaline is the band name for the songs David and I write and record). Be warned: it’s a non-final mix of a song from an album we are recording this summer, so stay tuned for the album’s release to hear the final version. (Both the Tumaini album and the Splendour Hyaline album will be available for download later this summer).

Here is the playlist (you can download the songs immediately below it):

1. Let It Ride, by Ryan Adams (from “Cold Roses (Disc 2)”)
2. No Sunlight, by Death Cab for Cutie (from “Narrow Stairs”)
3. Viva La Vida, by Coldplay (from “Viva La Vida”)
4. Skinny Love, by Bon Iver (from “For Emma, Forever Ago”)
5. Coconut Skins, by Damien Rice (from “9″)
6. Killing for Love, by José González (from “In Our Nature”)
7. Apartment Story, by The National (from “Boxer”)
8. Lovesong Of The Buzzard, by Iron and Wine (from “The Shepherd’s Dog”)
9. Not California, by Hem (from “Funnel Cloud”)
10. Come Out Of The Shade, by The Perishers (from “Victorious”)
11. Baby, It’s Fact, by Hellogoodbye (from “Zombies! Aliens! Vampires! Dinosaurs!”)
12. Ndikumaka, by Tumaini (from “Songs of Hope (Pre-Release)”)
13. Here It Goes, by Jimmy Eat World (from “Chase This Light”)
14. The Modern Leper, by Frightened Rabbit (from “The Midnight Organ Fight”)
15. Not What You Wanted, by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (from “Baby 81″)
16. Lake Michigan, by Rogue Wave (from “Asleep At Heaven’s Gate”)
17. Hoppipolla, by Sigur Rós (from “Takk”)
18. Leap Year, by +/- (from “Let’s Build A Fire”)
19. Hello, by Splendour Hyaline (from “When Love Leaves Its Hiding Place EP (Demo)”)
20. Why You, by Joe Purdy (from “Only Four Seasons”)
21. Dash, by DeYarmond Edison (from “Silent Signs”)

Download and setup instructions (sorry, but you will need iTunes):

1. Download the zip file here: Summer of Rock 2008
2. Unzip the files to your desktop or some other location (this will create a folder called Summer of Rock 2008).
3. Drag the folder into your iTunes software (typically, dragging it onto the “Music” label underneath “LIBRARY” is the safest way to do this — you’ll see a “+” sign before you know it’s OK to release the mouse button). This should copy the song files to your iTunes library.
4. Finally, in iTunes, go to File > Import. In the file browser, navigate to the Summer of Rock 2008 folder, and select the file “Summer of Rock 2008.xml”. Importing this playlist file will create the playlist “Summer of Rock 2008″ in your iTunes library, which you can use to play the songs in the intended order!
5. Now, you can safely delete the “Summer of Rock 2008″ folder and the zip file, as the song files should be safely organized by iTunes.

Unfortunately, doing things this way has its drawbacks as well as its benefits. The primary benefit is increased song quality. One of the drawbacks is that, in my version of the playlist, I have opted to cause some songs to end earlier than their actual finish time, to make the compilation flow better (for example, Lovesong of the Buzzard takes way too long to finish, and I modified its options in iTunes to end at 3:52). It will be up to you to do this if you want! It will also be up to you to burn a CD from this playlist to take in your car or wherever.

As always, the point of this compilation is to introduce you to new music and encourage you to buy songs and merchandise from the artists you like, through legal channels. If you are not open to supporting the artists financially, please don’t take advantage of my offering these songs for download!

Thanks, and enjoy! I look forward to hearing any comments. If the playlist or song files change, I will post a notification in this entry.

It’s been awhile since I’ve attempted blogging. From Blogger to Movable Type to Teleios and finally to WordPress, I’ve done my fair share of writing and pointing at things on the internet. I decided that I miss it, and so here we go again.

I’m giving this blog the same name as my Teleios e4:online blog, because I really like it. For me, re-creation, or creating in response to the universal creative process God has instituted around us, is at the core of our purpose and therefore our identity as human beings. It’s amusing that the word “recreation” has come to mean something so seemingly superfluous as “arbitrary leisure activities”–but my goal is not to imbue that word with seriousness. Rather, a lighthearted, creative playfulness should characterize our attempts at integrating the various things we find about ourselves in this massive universe into our identities.

That’s what I’m attempting to do here, through thoughts, stories, or sharing random things that have piqued my interest or are just plain funny.

So, Welcome! Please feel free to subscribe to the RSS feed to follow this blog in the reader of your choice.

PS I’ve taken the liberty of importing all my blog posts in the past 6 years from various sources–my college Blogger blog, my MovableType setup, the short-lived Butwedigress.net, the Teleios experiment, and finally the “Hello! Fine.” blog I kept with some friends while volunteering in Kenya. They’re all mixed in together, but provide an interesting retrospective nonetheless. Don’t go back too far though–there’s some embarrassing writing lurking back there in the nooks and crannies of time.

The time has come for me to leave Kenya. It’s ahead of my scheduled April departure, since I’m now needed back in the States for my sister’s upcoming wedding. Because of the suddenness, I haven’t had time yet to really appreciate what leaving means, and as I’ve begun saying goodbyes to those students who will be at school tomorrow when I leave, I’m awash with emotion. During the six months out of the last year (however non-consecutively) that I’ve spent living with the kids here, my average attitude towards them was probably some mixture of exasperation and bewilderment. The endless knocks on the door, the sly maneuvering to wheedle any variety of things from us, the interminable and insufferable church services… I suppose that complaining about such things internally has masked the more gradual and quieter growth of what, I notice with surprise, can only be called love! I never thought I’d struggle to fight back tears when saying goodnight to an 8-year-old, or that a poorly-spelled note slipped under the door, insisting that “sualy we will miss you very much,” could drop me into a similar tailspin.

I guess the last few weeks here have been too busy for me to notice such things–a recording project I started with some of the songwriters here has blossomed into something greater than expected, and accordingly ate up most of my waking moments–but that topic deserves its own post (I’ll supply it when I’m back in Terra Ignomino). Then there were the two final events of our House Competitions (you know, the ones between Nile, Euphrates, and Tigris), which had to be bumped up to accommodate my early absence–this weekend’s grand finale was an awesome headache of uncoordinated mayhem! Finally, as we’re nearing Marathon Day (less than a week away), we’ve been hitting the dirt and loading up on running mileage. Yesterday morning’s long run was 26km, with about 2300 feet of elevation gain. On Friday, as many of the race-ready kids as we can fit into a van will be heading to Moshi, Tanzania for the Kilimanjaro marathon. Since I’ll be back in California on that day, I’ll be running the Napa Valley race instead–which will be an easy, downhill, cakewalk of a marathon in comparison.

I did have a strange moment on Saturday, when we took all of Tumaini to the nearby Ruring’u stadium. It has the distinction of being the place where many of the Kenyan refugees in this region are camping out. It also has a track (which is why we wanted to be there). Thirdly, it is close to Huruma, Tumaini’s sister orphanage. When we went to Huruma for lunch in the middle of our track and field competitions, and as I watched some of the younger Tumaini kids greet with wide-eyed astonishment a swing-set and a slide for the first time, I was struck by the dream-like sensation that these were my kids encountering something new. And when little Faith and Gladys tentatively started playing (in that wordless though infinitely nuanced fashion children have) with some of the Hurumans, I felt my breath catch as I waited to see if they would get along and play nice. Perhaps most unsettling to my young, all-too-bachelor self was the sense of responsibility I experienced in it all. If Faith had fallen off the slide, or if Gladys had sucker-punched a Huruman (which she might very well have done), I know I would have been involved in an instant. Does this mean I will be a good parent? No. But maybe it means I won’t be a horrible one!

In one way or another, it’s thoughts like these that come into my head now that I’m about to leave. I’m already missing the dusty red of the walk to town, the brilliant gleam of the high-angle equatorial sun on the plants in the shamba in the mornings, and the exhilaration of cresting a tortuous hill on a long run and being greeted by the overpowering sight of Mt Kenya’s majestic cone and its three glacier-covered peaks. But the withdrawal pains will come most strongly with memories of faces–from Rhoda’s crazed hilarity to Mary’s doe-eyed wonderment to Grace’s far-seeing thoughtfulness to Stacy’s always-ready half-smile… and yes, even Edwin’s post-Christmas-cow-killing grin! The only question is, how long can I stay away?

Right now, there’s no answer to that question, and life has a way of leading us down all kinds of different paths. But I know that, sooner or later, I’ll end up here in Nyeri again. I hope it won’t be too long–but even if it is, I know that the relationships I’ve gained–brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, cousins–will still be here. But for the time being, this is my last entry from Kenya. I hope you’ve enjoyed my third of the blog as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it–and I hope Michael and Emilee keep the stories coming until they leave in a few weeks. I know that I for one will be looking eagerly for them as soon as I conclude my long two days of travel!

As they say in Swahili, Karibu Tena!

It’s been a shameful while since we’ve written, but the kids have been keeping us busy. We’re now in the last few weeks of training before our marathon in Tanzania, and so running has taken its toll! For my part, I’ve also been working with several of the kids to produce and record some songs they have written, before I leave Kenya at the end of this month (making the trip home for my sister’s wedding)!

Between the running and the music, I thought it’d be a great opportunity to film a short video, set to music by Mary (a student here at Tumaini). The subject of the video is ‘time trials’–the 7k or 10k timed runs that Coach Titus has us do every few weeks to get a feel for how the kids are improving.

On this particular day, as you will see, the time trials were not universally understood and respected, whether by the kids or by nature itself–but that doesn’t stop everyone from having a good time.

Enjoy! And let me know what you think of this glimpse into our daily afternoon routine. (Apologies for YouTube, whose compression ruins the audio and whose watermark obscures some subtitles).

Apologies are no doubt owed for this relatively long radio silence. It has been due, thankfully, to our own busyness here and not because any of Kenya’s troubles have reached us at Nyeri. It is deeply saddening to read the news of what is going on in other parts of the country, and hear accounts of the pain firsthand (there are over 100 refugees living not 3 kilometers away in a local sports field). At the same time, we are grateful that we have been able to continue our work mostly unaffected, and that the kids haven’t been subject to anything outside of what’s on the TV.

In truth, life has been good here the last few weeks since I returned to Kenya, with our biggest hardships comprised of woes like finding the grocery store less than fully stocked, and slightly higher gas prices.

The computer classes at Tumaini have likewise continued, and I have the good fortune to be even at this moment looking at a blackboard with the remnants of what appears to be a lecture on “Computer Security”. The chalk on the board haphazardly forms a list, ostensibly of the various facets of “Computer Security”. They are (strictly mirroring punctuation and emphasis):

• Environmental Threats
• Clumsiness
• Stabilizers
• Terrorists Attacks
• grudges

Hmm. Apparently, ‘Environmental Threats’ are the most ominous bad guys in the world of computer security. And I can see that; maybe it’s not obvious that computers should be kept out of the rain. But what are ‘Stabilizers’? And why do they threaten my PC? “No! Don’t bring that Stabilizer in here!”

The best, though, is clearly ‘grudges’. You never know when your computer’s security might be compromised by a grudge. And multiple grudges working in concert? Forget it, your RAM is hosed.

You might also be glad to know that from what I’ve overheard, the classes on word processing are just as helpful to the student.

While Michael and Emilee eat the Christmas Cow on December 25, I’ll be with some family in Camp Verde, AZ. The kids were disappointed when they heard I was going home for Christmas, and I don’t blame them–in fact, I’m sad to miss the celebrations at Tumaini myself! A good number of the kids also thought I was purposefully abandoning them in favor of a ‘White Christmas’, and it was hard to convince them otherwise.

In actual fact, this is a sort of landmark Christmas for our family, since for the first time ever we have opted to forego all gift-giving and holiday money-spending, and instead are traveling to Arizona to fix up my aunt and uncle’s house, which has happened to be in a bit of a sad state. I’m certainly a bit self-conscious about how ’self-righteous’ this tactic can come across to people (I know I’ve thought that about those people who go work in soup kitchens on Christmas). Therefore, I am in no way passing judgment on those who do partake in The Rush this year. Still, there’s a genuine satisfaction in the idea as well, and indeed, my family can’t go anywhere without having a bit of fun, so we’re also planning a 2-day hike down and up the Grand Canyon. I haven’t been there for probably 15 years, so I’m excited to camp in the wintry desert location.

But all this was hard to explain to the kids, until I got a clue from Cucu Kariuki and decided to start telling people I was going to a ‘harambe’–a sort of Kenyan festival held by friends or relatives of people who are in need, in order to raise money and supplies for them. It’s not the same, of course, but it’s close enough, and it did the trick: as soon as I mentioned ‘harambe’, they understood the need to go home. Still, had it been any other year, I would have loved to stay at Tumaini, and I envy Michael’s and Emilee’s opportunity to share Christmas with the kids.

Well, after a long 42 hours of travel, I arrived back in San Francisco last night. What surprised me most was how unsurprising it was to be back in the States. After my previous 2-month stint in Kenya, the mass of development, the showers, the clean running water, etc…, all caught me rather off guard. It took almost a full week to shake the feeling that something was very wrong somewhere. This time, everything just seems like, well, what it is. I suppose this state of affairs is neither good nor bad, but I found it interesting.

Now, I’m killing the hour or two I have left before our midnight departure to the Grand Canyon. (On family road trips, we like to leave in the 2nd watch of the night, when traffic is at a minimum–and this practice holds a lot of nostalgia for me). I’ve taken my fill of fast internet and hot showers (though finding high-protein vegetarian food has proved more difficult than in Kenya), and will now leave the blogging to those who are actually remaining in Kenya, until I return in early January. Happy Christmas! (And perhaps more appropriate for this particular day: Happy Winter Solstice!)

Here at Tumaini, the kids have three meals: Githeri (beans and maize), Rice and Beans, and Ugali (beans and a maize polenta). Githeri is eaten for every lunch and quite a few dinners, whereas rice and beans and ugali are served less frequently. Given this monotony, it’s easy to explain the mounting excitement that accompanies the approach to Christmas here. You see, on Christmas, the children have told us, “we will eat cow!” This is one of the two days per year where they are allowed to eat meat (and because of or in spite of this many profess meat to be their favorite meal).

In addition to the cow, incidentally, several of the rabbits kept here for breeding are purportedly going to be eaten. And, since the rabbits are named (of course) after us and others of the volunteers who have stayed at Tumaini, many of the children take great delight in telling us that on Christmas, “we will eat Michael and Emilee!” And then they laugh diabolically. (Jonathan the rabbit will not be eaten at Christmas; At first I was glad, but then they told me that he has already been “eaten by dogs,” because “he rotted and died.”)

Anyway, the three of us were sitting around last night, and wondered where they typically get the cow that they eat for Christmas. Then we realized they probably just kill one of the cows they keep on site. After discussing, agricultural newbs that we are, the horror involved in slaughtering an animal like that, and talking ignorantly about what method would be used, the question finally arose, Who will kill the Christmas cow?

It’s definitely going to be Edwin.

Edwin, after killing last year’s Christmas Cow

Waking up on Sunday morning in time for church is often difficult. I confess (all too readily, perhaps) that the church services here aren’t what I particularly crave in the way of spiritual edification. The music that sets my teeth decidedly on edge (insanely overblown speakers, off-key saccharine synth jams pumping from the electronic keyboard, etc…) has already been mentioned, for example. Of course, they do some things here in Riamukurwe Parish that are a breath of fresh air. Women from the community, not even trained ‘ministers’, regularly preach. ‘Presentations’, or songs performed by any member of the congregation, take up a large portion of the service, and it’s nice to see such involvement appreciated (even if, to my classically-trained ears, those moments have a definite Purgatorial feel).

But, “Church” is another entry, deserving of a title different than “Monkey Nuts,” which you may be wondering about. The story I want to tell happened a few weeks ago, and it was in fact during one of those Sundays where Eunice, the Manager (heroine of so many of my blogs, it seems), was delivering the Word of God. As everyone who preaches seems to think, the Word of God by itself can be a bit boring, and so it’s good to spice the message up with illustrations and anecdotes.

As Michael, Emilee, and I were sitting three-quarters of the way to the back of the small church, Eunice began to tell a story about certain farmers in another part of Africa, ostensibly to support a point she was making. I was only half-listening, expecting this story to follow the general pattern, that is, to have no link at all to anything that has been said so far. I think I was right. But anyway, the story went something like this:

These farmers produce, as a cash crop, a certain variety of nuts which sell well in other regions. But, as it happens, a local species of monkey is driven wild with pleasure when eating these treats, and so they do all they can to steal them from the farmers. The farmers, being humans and therefore more ingenious than the monkeys, devised a way to trap the monkeys and save their crops: they would take some nuts and put them into a large clay pot with a very narrow mouth. The monkeys would smell the food, rush to the pots, and insert a little simian hand, grasping the nuts. Of course, their fistful of treasure then makes their paws too big to remove from the pot without first letting go of the prize. Unwilling to do this, the monkeys are forced to stay with one hand in the trap, until the farmers can come at leisure and kill them.

So far, so good. I thought it was a worthy story (in fact, one I’d heard about in 5th grade through science class, and liked). I could see where Eunice was going with it too–the nuts are analogous like those things we foolishly hold on to that are going to bring us to ruin. Therefore, we shouldn’t be like those monkeys (in our spiritual lives), clinging to pleasures that will only bring death.

But while I was thinking these things, Eunice made her conclusion in some unexpected words: “The Lord wants you to release your monkey nuts!”

I snickered, and looked around thinking everyone else must be too. But all the Kenyans were staring straight ahead, some simply nodding in agreement. Eunice went on, excited by her point. And then she said it again, with feeling: “The LORD wants you to release your monkey nuts!“

I realized at once I was in trouble. The Lord wants me to release my monkey nuts? Ha. Ha ha ha. Monkey nuts! Though I don’t laugh at every dirty double entendre I hear, the context, the complete lack of intention, was too much. The corners of my mouth began to quiver, and soon I found myself smiling uncontrollably. A Kenyan to my left looked at me, and I looked down, hiding my face. Then the laughing began: those stomach shakes that I refused to let move up to the throat. “If only I can avoid looking at Michael and Emilee,” I thought, “I’ll be OK.”

But Eunice was not on my side. Really worked up now, she got a bit more personal, and asked the congregation a question, leaning forward from the pulpit and talking in a suddenly low, serious voice: “What nuts are you holding on to?” she said with a penetrating gaze.

And that was it. A stifled guffaw inadvertently escaped my lips, and I ducked behind the pew in front of me, pretending to be reading a Bible. Then I heard movement from Emilee beside me, and saw that she too was trying to keep from breaking out in laughter. I couldn’t see Michael, and that was probably what saved us all from total humiliation. But, that feeling came that we all know, when it’s one of those times where it’s completely inappropriate to laugh, but two people think something is funny, and the mere fact that they know the other thinks it’s funny too makes it impossible to get a grip.

Remembering that I’d read about such situations, I tried a folk remedy and started pinching myself. The pain didn’t help. And so I stayed bowed forward for a full minute, until I thought the storm had passed, and the lashings of laughter subsided. Eunice had moved on, and we were in the clear. That is, until she came to her grand finale, and in full-throated Kenyan fashion made her pronouncement: “It is not a surprise that some of us will burn in Eternal Hellfire because we are holding on to monkey nuts!”

So true, Eunice, so true.

Needless to say, a lot of people were wondering what was going on with the Wazungu, though no comments were made. I tried to make it look like I had been crying (and I was…), moved by the sermon–but it wasn’t that kind of sermon. Anyway, it’s these little cultural or linguistic differences, and other random hilarities, that keep life here exciting. Like tonight, while playing Pictionary with the Form 4 Leavers (the secondary school graduates), when the phrase to draw was, appropriately, “Baby Jesus”. One team’s artist chose to signify the stick-figure infant’s holy status by drawing a manger, and streaks of light shining gloriously around Jesus’ body. The other team’s artist chose a more realistic tack, and decided instead to draw the little newborn, not just as Baby Jesus, but as “Extremely Well-Endowed Baby Jesus If You Know What I Mean”. Everyone in the room had a good laugh for about 10 minutes. Oh, and in case you were wondering: the streaks of shining glorious light turned out to be a better symbol–our team won.