Observations | Mr. Webb, subbing, and a flagball victory

“THE DEATHSTAR” (MY APARTMENT) – Any other time, I’d be pretty excited about the weight I’m losing.

I can’t really complain about my diet – if I want it, I eat it. Sure, I don’t eat a lot in the Maxwell cafeteria, but always until I am full. I usually glutton myself once a week when I run into Nairobi, and I’m constantly cooking noodles or pasta or snacking on Swedish Fish in the apartment. Add to that the fact that I just picked up a loaf of bread and a jar of Nutella for breakfast most, mornings, and I’d say it’s clear that I’m not really suffering.

But this blessing is really turning into a curse. I’m losing weight, relatively fast, and I will soon have to buy a new belt. Shirts are bigger, pants are bigger, and I’m scared that will eventually add up into me being forced to buy more clothes! On my meager $40/month salary, not a great thing.

Ok, so this is the continent that’s had the biggest problem with starvation in the past. But still, who’da thunk that this would be my issue? Eat (no pun intended) your heart out, Jared from Subway.

Three observations:

1. “Hey, Chris…” “Uh, it’s Mr. Webb.” “Oh, my bad. Mr. Webb…” I remember having real difficulties accepting my formal title from students. It made me sound old, and I really didn’t think I’d enjoy it as much as others would. If anything, I’d just allow students to call me Chris, not Mr. Webb, if there were no other faculty around.
   
   But alas, I’ve come to accept it; I am Mr. Webb, not Chris, not buddy, not pal, not Mr. Chris, not “hey!”, not C.Webb, not Webber, not “God’s gift to women” (Ok, just that last one.): Mr. Webb. And don’t think about calling me anything else.


2. Once a student, then a dean, now… a teacher. Finally, my day has come. A few weeks ago, I volunteered to substitute teach for Mrs. Rusunescu while she was gone to the States for the first week of October. The week has finally come, and today, I finally had the opportunity to stand in front of three classes and teach English.
   
   It began with the Sophomores, a pretty good class. They listened to almost everything I said, and reading a story in class with them took up almost the whole period, not leaving much time for preparing for Senior English.
   
   This class was a bit more challenging. They definitely knew how the class was supposed to be run, and they didn’t care to be “taught” much of anything. We also went through a piece a bit more challenging to understand, hindering my teaching ability by 84%. Ah well…
   
   My best class was definitely the third and last, the Juniors. They were as enthusiastic about stuff as the Sophomores, without the Senioritis attitude. I laughed out loud during out reading of “The Crucible” when the girls and guys would openly voice their disdain for the stunts that the characters were trying to pull.
   
   All in all, it was a fairly successful trio of classes, especially considering it was my first day. I know that I came across much softer than I’d planned on, but that’s allright. I’ve got a much better handle on things, and I know how to lay down the law in the classroom.
   
   Come Monday, it’s on.


3. I’m not a flagball loser anymore. Six years ago, I began the worst losing streak in almost all of sports history. I mean, I probably made the Royals look pretty good. I couldn’t win a game, no matter how hard I tried. I drafted the best players, set up great systems of running teams, scored touchdowns, pulled flags, and made play after play. Still, no wins.
   
   But, as of Wednesday, my new career flagball record stands at 56 losses, 2 ties… and one win. We beat Shalom’s Saints 8-0, snapping an unprecedented and unimaginable sports run. On our first defensive play of the game, I sniffed out a screen pass and intercepted the ball, and if it hadn’t been for one man standing in my way, I’d have run it back for a touchdown.
   
   Either way, the play set the tone for the rest of the game, and after scoring one girl TD (if she makes the play, it’s worth two bonus points), we held strong and came out with the victory. I had a few nice “tackles,” including one where a teammate and I flipped over each other while going for the ball carrier’s flag (I still made the play), but we both pulled ourselves off the ground and finished out the game.
   
   Another scary moment in the game came late, when Valerie and one of my RAs, Ivan, collided with eachother on a pass play. It looked like Valerie had a sure interception, but it also seemed certain that Ivan would make the catch. Both of them hit the ground - Ivan apparently was unconscious for a moment, and Valerie appeared shaken pretty bad - but after a few minutes, they got up and shook it off.
   
   The game ended with Elvin and I walking back to our apartment, happy and exhausted instead of ticked and exhausted. I woke up the next morning, bruised and sore, but still glowing from our surprise victory.
   
   Next game is Monday. Am I about to begin a winning streak?

Ok, I’m off to Nairobi. Elvin, a student named Phil*, and I are going to get some Indian food. I’ve never tasted it before. Let’s see if it’s good.

-cw


*Names have been changed to protect the innocent... or presumed innocent.

PSA | Fixing the Mara Pictures

MY APARTMENT - How do these pictures look?

Well, they probably appear a lot better than the horrible blank spots that covered my Masai Mara blogpost. I didn't realize that the shots that my roomate Elvin took weren't appearing on the page.

Well, fret no more. Now pictures are functioning properly. Go re-read the article and check out Elvin's amazing shots!

-cw

Observations | Lying, Days Off, and the Donkeys.

BOYS’ DORM OFFICE – Finally…

After the better part of a month without being able to send emails, post to the blog, or do much of anything else, all has changed. Announcing:

CONSISTENT INTERNET!

Yahoo! And that’s not just me being excited; Yahoo!, and Google, and MSN, and ESPN! Horay!

Three Observations:

1. The most important thing Carlos taught me: Lying to kids isn’t bad, as long as you laugh about it later. Last Wednesday, for dorm worship, I told my guys the story about how when I was 8 years old, we found out that I had a hole in my lung, and my (older) sister decided to give her lung to me. She died in the surgery, and I was just flabbergasted how someone could give their life for someone else’s. I tied this into Jesus, and how God, a deity who really owes us nothing, sent His son to die for every one of us.
   
   Then I told them I didn’t have an older sister, and it was all just a joke.
   
   Yes, the dorm was furious with me. They couldn’t believe that I had made up a story – a story that left them wide-eyed and ready to group hug me at the end – and expected them to just go along with the worship. The illustration had worked, and they understood why I had done it, but they didn’t want to be the only ones to suffer. They begged me to tell the same story at the girls dorm the next week, “but make sure you do it way harder, and way more sad.”
   
   Well guys, you wish was my command. Last night, with Elvin covering my worship in Tegler Hall, I sauntered over to McKee to perform my act again. I made sure I added long, dramatic pauses, and filled my story with details, making my fictitious older sister come alive. Girls were crying, the room was deathly silent, and I had them in the palm of my hand.
   
   I opened my story by asking why girls cry at movies like The Notebook and A Walk to Remember, while some real stuff that happens won’t even phase us. My driving point was “Why do we listen to fiction more than fact?” The I told my entire hoax of the fake sister, ending it with “And again, why does fiction rule fact?”
   
   No one moved, and like the beginning quivers of an earthquake, the room began to get angry. Hatred swelled towards the speaker, and like an idiot, I felt I had to encourage it. “Yeah, you didn’t hear me wrong; I made up that whole story.”
   
   Seriously, there was close to 5 minutes straight of booing. After a while, they finally calmed down, and actually, they seemed to respond better to my point – that Jesus’ sacrifice shouldn’t be repetitive, it should be emotional – than my guys responded to it.
   
   And I only got 6 pieces of hate mail from the girls, so that’s a mild victory, too.


2. Days off are becoming less of a big deal. Stuff happened.
   
   No, but really, nothing much went on. Elvin dropped us off at Nakumatt Junction (which, I'm convinced, Heaven will look like) while he got a massage, and we just hung out there for an hour. Thankfully, I didn't fall victim to that incredible bookstore again. But it was close.
   
   Afterwards, we spent some time at the internet cafe, ate at Java, stopped at another Nakumatt to pick up some groceries, and came back home. With the exception that for the first time ever, the girls picked the post-town-trip movie ("How to lose a guy in 10 days," a movie that can lose a guy's attention in 10 minutes), the day was incredibly uneventful.
   


3. Broncos fans suck, pretty much on every continent. How is it that these idiots are allowed to cross the ocean? How is it that even though the students don't have internet access at all or email for the last 3 weeks, they still hear how we got our butts kicked? How is it that EVERY Broncos fan I know lives in the false reality that the game against us is more important than, you know, the whole season?
   
   To my Chiefs fans out there - don't worry, our time will come. Even though they handed our butts to us, it just sets us up to upset an actually good team in Philadelphia, and lets us get them back in a few weeks when they come to Arrowhead. And in case anyone wants to lose a bet desperately, bet me that Denver will be the AFC West leader in 4 weeks. I'll gladly take that; this team sucks, they're not the powerhouse they once were, and in one month from today, they'll be at least 2 games behind us.
   
   So there. Take that, Donkeys.
   

Ok, I’m off to lunch. Later!

-cw

Observations - Freshmen, Flagball, "What's in Union?"

BOYS’ DEAN’S OFFICE – I accidentally bought another book.

On our weekly trip to Nairobi this Tuesday afternoon, we visited a new Nakumatt – Nakumatt Junction. I can say, without a doubt, that this place is the most Western-like spot I’ve been in the last month and a half. It’s clean, incredible modern, and puts Junction City’s Wal-Mart to shame.

I loved the 3-story Java House in the same building as the supermarket, and it was awesome to see so many “foreigners” in the same place at the same time. But the best part was the Media Center, a colossal book/music/electronics store that reminded me of a much trendier, more hip Barnes and Noble. We floated around, eying he DVD racks, the CDs of our favorite American artists, and the extensive selection of books.

I explored the store wide-eyed, so grateful to be somewhere so much like home. The only way to display my gratitude to the Nakumatt Corporation, I felt, was to patronize their shop. It is the least I can do. I explored the store for a while, when suddenly, one item popped out of the shelf, yelling “Look at me! Pick me up and just check me out!”

5 minutes later, I was walking out of the Media Center with Mind Gym, an incredible little book of cerebral aerobics. Since I bought it, I’ve pretty consistently read a chapter/topic a day, taking my time to focus on its points. I’ve learned the 9 ways to influence people, how to effectively argue with myself, and what holds me back from taking big steps. I’ve also gained insight on how pessimistic I am, and how I can intentionally make myself more optimistic.

I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in small personal modifications, and as a way to present my new skills, I shall now give…

Three (usually pessimistic but now optimistic) observations:

1. Ok, I don’t miss being a freshman that much. My freshman class (that I’m co-sponsoring with Miss Honey) reminds me why I enjoy being an adult. I’ve sat in class meetings twice in the last week as the young’uns prepare for Peanut Carnival (similar to Junior Benefit), and we’ve discussed three main topics.
   
   a) “What is, like, the coolest Playstation game you have?”
   b) “Why do we, like, always get homework?”
   c) “Can we leave yet? This is, like, so booooooooooring...”
   
   Notice in the above list how many times Peanut Carnival (or things pertaining to it) are actually talked about: none. If it wasn’t for the class president, Lameck, or one of the sponsors yelling for the group to focus on the issue at hand, we’d never get anything done. Gosh.
   
   Overly optimistic slant: It’s awesome being an adult. Now I can look back on my difficult times dealing with my young peers and be able to help Lameck get stuff done.


2. 7 years and counting: I still suck at flagball. After 4 years in academy, 2 years in college, and one game at Maxwell, I can officially say that I’m still un-undefeated. I’ve never won one game of this sport I love to pieces, and while I’m sure it’s God teaching me something, I still am going to go ahead and say “C’mon! Why not one? Just one!!!”
   
   Last night, the Matatus, my flagball team (named after the incredibly crazy and unorganized taxi system in Kenya… hey, maybe that’s why we suck…) played its first game against the Saints. Lusyomo, our quarterback, seemed to have things under control with Valerie and me blocking rushers for him. But after a few scrambles, the stomach virus that had plagued him earlier in the morning returned, and he was forced to drop out of the game.
   
   Who did that leave as the starting QB? The least capable person, of course. I insisted that I shouldn’t be allowed to touch the ball under any circumstances, but the team would have nothing of it. The former Social Life Terminator was now the Matatus quarterback.
   
   I thanked them for the appointment by throwing an interception (returned for a touchdown) in my first pass.We ended up losing the game 12-0. so not an incredibly bad start to the season; just not a good one.
   
   Our second game of the season is tonight, against the Packers. Shalom, the quarterback of last night’s opponent, volunteered to substitute as quarterback for our team tonight. I’m incredibly grateful, but I haven’t forgotten about last night. I might let a rusher or two slip by, just to teach him a lesson.
   
   Overly optimistic slant: Update – We tied the game, 6-6. So we didn’t lose. We must be improving!


3. What is the best way to sell Union College to the Seniors? It’s not by telling them it’s the only Adventist college in a city. “Lincoln is a city? Is it big?” What do you say to that? “Ummmm... it has 3 Taco Bells…”
   
   There’s not much use in telling them it’s Nebraska, either. “EWWWW! There’s nothing there!” “Ummmm… yea there is…”We have no incredible freebies to give out. “Southwestern give all freshmen a laptop, for free. What does Union do?” “Ummmm… we have salvation…”
   
   And telling them that the school costs $20,000 a year usually is a pretty big turn-off. “Oh my gosh! I can go somewhere else way cheaper.” “Ummmm… no you can’t…”
   
   So what’s been the selling point so far? When told about UC’s International Rescue and Relief program, the only one of its kind in the US, 75% of the guys respond like this: “Dude! Whoa!”
   
   ”Dude! Whoa!” is a good thing.
   
   Right now, I think there’s a couple of safe bets of guys that’ll be Slinga’ da Ink (UC’s school song) with me next year. More to come on “Operation: RecuitstudentssoIcangetanextrascholarshipfromUnion.”
   
   Overly optimistic slant: No one I know of is planning on coming to Union for a communication degree. Less competition!

All right, well I am off to stretch for my second flagball game. I’m sore already thinking about it.

-cw

Observations - SPECIAL "PUNISHMENTS" EDITION

MY APARTMENT – I wouldn’t say it was a hard few days on duty. For the most part, the guys on Wednesday night were very cooperative with me, and my second weekend on duty went incredibly smoothly.

But the few guys that did think messing with the dean was a great idea did give the weekend some... spunk. On three separate occasions, I was greeted with relatively difficult situations that I hadn’t had to deal with before. Luckily, the self-proclaimed Social Life Terminator was there, with his laser gun of discipline in hand, ready to dish it out. Here is the special edition…

Three punishments from the last few days:

1. The incarnation of dean-bound. Wednesday night when I was on duty, I had the grand opportunity of handing out punishments to the begging-to-be-dealt-with guys of Tegler Hall. The night began with 5 students who’d been room-bound the night before for being out of their rooms after lights out. They were instructed (all between 2 and 3 times each) that they were to remain in their rooms for the whole next day (with the exception of classes, work, and meals, of course).
   
   Sadly, the “Deaf Fairy” dropped by to bring the guys little presents, and I was told by my RA that all 5 had been outside, playing soccer. I was very excited, because it was another chance for me to try coming up with new and entertaining punishments, and I hadn’t had anything revolutionary since Chuck* was assigned the duty of scrubbing toilets with a 2-inch long travel toothbrush. What could I come up with that would be equally “effective in teaching a lesson” and “horribly punishing beyond all belief” for the guys?
   
   It was then that an angel came down from heaven with the idea of a lifetime: dean-bound. I pulled the 5 into the lobby to get their side of the story. Once they were done explaining how they hadn’t heard one of the many warnings not to go to recreation, I explained to them what I wanted to do: room-bound until Sunday night (when I went off duty), in their rooms at all times, and when out of the rooms (for supper or Vespers or Church) they’d be sitting with me. Oh, and a one page paper about how they’d never forget they were dean-bound again.
   
   Now, I thought that wasn’t even a real punishment. I mean, I’m a cool guy. How bad would it be to sit with me a couple of days? Oh, let me tell you, it was like I’d asked the guys to take a knife and stab it through their hands. “OH, MR. WEBB, PLEASE DON’T!!! THAT’S TOO EVIL!”
   
   After much pleading, I finally lowered the punishment to room-bound until Friday night (before Vespers) and no customary Friday afternoon soccer game. I am too merciful.


2. World War III: When Ben* Attacks. The second onslaught of discipline came a few minutes after lights out. After the threat of “dean-bound,” my creative-punishments juices were drained, so I informed the RAs to warn the guys that they’d better be in their rooms because I didn’t want any more excitement for the night.
   
   10 minutes before lights out, we announced not to be late, or discipline would follow. We announced it again, 5 minutes before. Then again, 2 minutes before. Then one minute before. 30 seconds before. 10 seconds. Lights out.
   
   And still, we catch 4 guys outside their rooms. We send all 4 to the lobby for a spirited exercise, the 4-way push-up. Three headed to the lobby; Ben* decided to test the RA.
   
   A few minutes go by, and Andrew, my RA, can’t seem to get the fellow to join us in the lobby, so he calls me over for backup. I informed Ben* that he needed to get to the lobby “like, uh, right NOW.” After arguing for a minute or so, he finally followed me to the spot where the other 3 criminals were waiting.
   
   But Ben* wasn’t going to do pushups. “What is my crime, what is my crime?” What is my crime? What the heck does he think? “You were out of your room after we warned to a million times lights out was coming, and then you argued with my RA. Get down and give me 50.””No no, you cannot make me. Take me to Mr. V[erSteeg, the dean]. I will do no punishment.”
   
   At this point, I was incredible volatile. I was getting tired, I was ticked off at the five we-didn’t-know-room-bound-meant-in-the-room guys, and I had to potty. I had had enough. I stormed to the office, picked up my 2-inch long travel toothbrush, and calmly told Ben* to follow me to the bathroom. We had some toilets to scrub.
   
   Long story short, Ben* wasn’t going to scrub toilets. He insisted I take him to Mr. V, and then after more arguing, that he be brought before Ad Council (“At least there, they will listen to my side.”). I gladly told him I’d take him up on the latter option the next day, so very smug-like, he went to bed. Somehow he felt like he’d won the debate, even though Elvin, my RAs, and the ASB president (who sits on Ad Council) had witnessed the whole thing.
   
   He apologized to me in the morning, but the damage had been done. The entire dorm had heard this kid challenge the dean, and I wasn’t going to let him off easy. Mr. VerSteeg told me at staff worship, after I explained the whole scene, that if I said the word, he’d be suspended. I thought about it, prayed about it, and decided that I could take care of this in-house.I sentenced Ben* to 4-days of room bound and vowed to testify against him if this ever happened with another teacher again. He was aghast that I’d given him “such a strict punishment,” but seemed to favor it over being sent home to explain the argument to his parents.
   
   Throughout the weekend, we’ve had a few more smaller run-ins (“You mean I’m supposed to be on room-bound on Sabbath? But it’s Sabbath!” “It’s ok, you can worship Jesus, alone, in your room. Check out those verses about respecting your elders, while you’re at it.”), but nothing nearly as intense as before. The Social Life Terminator succeeds again.


3. “You mean, down to the end of the hall?” However, punishments took another entertaining swing on Friday night, when Alex*, a Junior, decided to drink out of the public sink in the lobby. There’s a pretty MASSIVE sign there informing guys not to be that gross – after all, it is public, not just yours – but Alex* didn’t realize the sign also applied to him. Now, how could I teach him to use a cup instead of his mouth on the tap?
   
   Of course, we’d go “old school.” I placed a bucket at the far end of the hall and informed Alex* to fill up the bucket. The bucket wouldn’t move. And he couldn’t use a cup now. You got it; Alex* walked up a down the hallway, water filled in his mouth and cupped in his hands, emptying it out in the pail.
   
   After two runs, he asked to step into his room to change out of his church clothes. I, of course, expected that to mean he’d be changing into a pair of PJs or something, so I mercifully allowed it. Minutes later, I was shocked to see the previously fully-clothed guy transferring the water back and forth in just his underwear! I laughed so hard, I thought the water I was drinking would squirt out my nose.
   
   With about two trips from reaching the top of the bucket left, Alex* was ready to get revenge. Walking down the hall near the RA (Evan) and I, he “lost his balanced and slipped,” spilling all the water in his hands on us. The hallway erupted in laughter – he sure did get them back! However, as my mom used to say, “he who laughs last, laughs best.” I quickly took the bucket to the bathroom, dumped it all out, and placed it back in the same spot, empty. When Alex* came back on his “last trip,” he was surprised to see that his bucket was empty, and needed to be refilled again. HAHA, how you like them apples?!

Like I said earlier, there were pretty much those three little “situations,” and otherwise, the weekend has moved very smoothly. With just a few hours to go, I’m hoping that the Social Life Terminator’s blog will see an “Hasta la vista, baby” before it sees an “I’ll be back.”

-cw


*Names have been changed to protect the innocent... or presumed innocent.

Neato | Used to be my iPod, now my iChief.

DSC02722
Originally uploaded by webby37.

Boy, do I love iPod hacks or what? I mean, now, with just a few clicks of the button, the "Do not disconnect" logo, the battery meter on the top right, and all the scrollbars are KC themed (just to name a few). Hotness.

-cw

Observations | Newspapers, Egypt Update, and the end of the Great Internet Crisis?

MY APARTMENT – I almost burned our house down today. And no, Mom, I didn’t leave it alone. I was there the whole time.

I bought a candle recently (because in an apartment with two guys, you need all the deodorizing smell you can get), and it seemed to be working well for quite a while. However, one day, the wick seemed to slip into the melted wax. I attempted to repair the candle by tying the wick onto a piece of dental floss (see, cuz it’s wax…), and then hanging the floss from a pen sitting on the lip of the candle. No such luck – somehow the wick wouldn’t ever light again for more than 2 minutes, and I was forced to become creative.

So being the brilliant guy I am, I put the candle in a pot half-filled with water, set the gas stove on low heat, and let it sit on there. My inventiveness paid off – tada, I had a new candle.

This worked fine every day until I came back from Masai Mara. After showering and writing yesterday’s blog, I “lit” the candle so I could de-mustify the apartment. I set it up like normal, not realizing I put the burner on high heat, and went to my laptop for a little Super Mario Brothers.

5 minutes later, Elvin runs into my room, “HEY CHRIS, YOUR CANDLE IS BURNING!” I leap out of my computer chair and turn around to see a wall of smoke filling the apartment. We acted quick, shutting off the stove, evacuating the now-cracked candle outside to smoke inside no more, and facing the fan (on setting 3) outside.

While it was definitely the funniest thing that’s ever happened inside the “Death Star” (our apartment), it was incredibly embarrassing and humiliating. Students in the dorm heard our ruckus, and Heather, walking from the elementary school, walked by, right at the perfect time, to see smoke billowing out of the place. This is one moment I will not soon live down, I’m sure!

Three observations:

1. I’m not ready to get back into the newspaper business. Not yet. I spent all of Monday afternoon with Krystle, the Maxwell Mirror newspaper editor, trying to get our first edition of the paper out. After spending many hours last week setting up the layout, we’d finally got it all done and printed. Now, to make 11”x”17” (A3) photocopies…Come to find out that the rizograph, our heavy-duty more-than-30-copies-only-please copy machine can’t make copies that large. Ok, well let’s just do it on the copy machine. Nope, copy machine can’t handle A3, either. Plus, it shouldn’t do too many copies – it’s not intended for such extended use. Well allright, let’s just do what they did last year and make 4 copies for sharing around campus (boys’ dorm, girls’ dorm, library, café). No, Krystle says that we have the budget to make everyone a copy, so let’s make everyone a copy.
   
   This goes on for hours, literally, until finally, we’re stuck with no A3, folded-in-half newspapers, but with 20 copies of double-sided sheets of paper, stapled in the corner. It brought back refreshing memories of bickering with Rachel Turner in the ASB closet, “our office.” Nope, I’m not ready to be an editor yet.


2. A friend in need (of something to do over Christmas break) is a friend indeed (to someone who needs someone to go to Egypt with). I just might have found a co-traveler to go to Egypt with. Roger, a Brazilian student from Maxwell, expressed heavy interest in going to the Land of Pharaohs over break to me recently.
   
   This is welcome news to someone who might not be able to go unless he has a traveling companion. I’m praying his parents will say yes so we can start planning in depth.As of right now, I have a 14-day trip planned for just about $715. I think by the time I’m done entering museum and attraction fees into my Excel spreadsheet, I’ll be at $750 for two weeks, including a round-trip flight. Not bad.


3. First thing I’ll do when I get consistent internet service is go to KCFX.com and listen to Mitch Holthus’ voice. On Thursday, I got to update the blog because of a free/unexpected trip to Nairobi with Elvin, Valerie, and Evan (an MAA student). MAA’s internet is still retarded, so we went to visit another service provider to get a more reliable ISP.
   
   Good news: It’s gonna happen. Maxwell’s principal and financial chief have already approved cutting ties with our current ISP and switching to Access Kenya. This new corporation will give us unlimited bandwidth at the same speed through a wireless connection, all for $100 less a month!
   
   Bad news. I’m guessing the switch will be made next week. So we’ll be going back to an internet café tomorrow for my day off. Booo.

Ok, well I should go. I’ve got a volleyball intramurals game to star in. Next week we start flagball intramurals – better get some aspirin on my next town trip.

-cw

Observations | SPECIAL MASAI MARA EDITION

MY APARTMENT (THANKFULLY) – It’s not that I didn’t have fun at Masai Mara.

Quite the opposite. Not 5 minutes after entering the park, we ran into a lioness trying to snack on her kill. We were greeted by the darkest sky I’ve seen in Africa (strangely, a welcome reminder of our violent weather at home). We ran into a colossal group/herd/flock/gaggle of wildebeests, saw tons of gazelle and zebras, and passed some of the most gorgeous landscapes I’d ever seen. No, it wasn’t not fun.

It just wasn’t all I expected it to be. In three days, we saw two lions (one eating its breakfast of a straggling wildebeest), probably 10 giraffe (with 8 being seen an hour outside the park), a huge herd of elephants (that we couldn’t stop to see because our host, Game Trackers, was in a hurry to see something interesting), 0 leopards, 0 cheetahs, and approximately 17,045,213 wildebeests (give or take 4).

Oh, and it rained. And Elvin and I were assigned to a tent I wouldn’t cram Gary Coleman into. And the potty smelled ungodly.

3 observations:

1. I’ve felt every bump, lump, bulge and contusion from here to the Mara. Once upon a time, I used to complain about the roads in Nebraska and Missouri being unbearable. Kansan roads are a million times better (as they should be, since they’re being constructed, repaired, or modified 342 days a year). However, those days have passed. Compared to the turbulent path that we drove upon for 8 hours, Nebraska and Missouri are Route 66.
   
   I’ve never been jostled and tossed in any form of transportation as I was on the full-day trip to the Mara. Massive canyons located strategically in the road (referred to by the locals by their apparently Swahili name, potholes) would literally fling me, a 200-ish pound guy, a foot off the seat. The skinny people on the land cruiser often times came close to hitting the 7 foot ceiling. A few times, we came close to losing an infant out the window. Luckily, we all made it safely to the campsite


2. “Mommy, what is that thing in the lion’s mouth?” The highlight of the weekend was definitely the early morning game drive on Sabbath morning. After dragging myself out of my sleeping bag, running through the pitch-black, frigid, mid-40º air to the bathhouse, realizing that I was in fact nowhere near the shower area and actually walking down the road towards a neighboring Masai village, sprinting towards the bathhouse after hearing a low, animal-like grunt in a nearby bush, and cowering away from the ice-cold stream of water trickling out of the soldered-onto-a-rusty-metal-pipe shower head, I made it onto the land cruiser for some animal sight-seeing.
   
   And some animal sight-seeing I did. Guess what I saw? A Wildebeest. But then, what else? Another wildebeest. And after that? Two wildebeests. The rolling plains of the northern Serengeti were covered with wildebeests, as far as the eye could see. I was literally surrounded by a million of these guys. If they all would have got the idea to charge at our vehicle and flip it over, we would have been dead in an instant. However, that would have required the gnus to abandon their grass-eating, grunting, and staring mindlessly at us. We were safe, this time.
   
   It was mind-boggling to see all these guys, but nonetheless, disappointing. No one, except for Gnutologists, come to Africa looking to see wildebeests. It’s like someone going to New York to see homeless people or hubcaps. We wanted something good, and just down the road from the herd, was that something.
   
   One straggling wildebeest must have found a really nice plot of grass, because he had been standing a half-mile away from his group when the attack came. I imagine it was out of nowhere: calm, peaceful morning air. Then a rustle in the grass, behind him and to his left. He peaks around, and sees nothing. Then, to his right, another rustle. He swings his face that direction, scanning the grass for the predator. Nothing. All is still. All is silent. He takes a deep breath out, then goes back to working on his breakfast.
   
   All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a flash knocks him onto his side. He looks up, horrified, to see a lioness, bared teeth and all, ready to tear into his flesh. He tries to call for help, but too late. His howl is muffled by the searing pain of his attacker’s teeth, wolfing down his side. Moments later, all that remains of the victim is lifeless fur and warm blood.
   
   This is when we come along – too late for the attack, but just in time for the victory party. I sat, in the comfort of the vehicle, just a few feet away from this monster, still rummaging through the corpse, looking for a tasty intestine or another lick of blood. It was truly amazing.
   
   I got some pretty good pictures, but not as good as Elvin, who was toting around his 400mm zoom lens. My pictures show the lion, 30 feet away, eating his meal; Elvin’s show the flies on the meal. Dammit.


3. Mudding in Africa isn’t as fun as in the States. On the dreary Sabbath, after an intense morning of gnu-watching and an incredibly tasty and nourishing lunch of pasta salad (Mine came with a strand of curly hair in it. For free!), we decided to test our luck in another area of the park.
   
   Five minute later, when 2 of our 4 game trucks were stuck in the mud, we heartily regretted the decision.
   
   We sat in our truck (one of the ones not in mire) for one hour, waiting for the two stuck vehicles to magically be removed from the muck. Some found it a great time to gleefully run around outside, playing in the wet dirt; I found it to be a great time to escape the bumpiness and take a short nap.
   
   The two vehicles eventually escaped their destiny of never moving again when a quick-thinking Game Trackers’ driver suggested an option:
   
   “Hey, how about instead of solving the problem with an obvious solution and simply pulling out the stuck cars with a ‘surviving’ member, let’s completely pull out the drive shaft and put in a new, 4-wheel drive one!”
   
   “Great idea, Rick!”
   
   And so it was, 60 minutes later, that we could re-begin our game drive. Great.


4. Bonus Masai Mara observation: Did my academy’s faculty enjoy supervising this much? I’ve confirmed the much-spread rumor to Maxwell Adventist Academy – Yes, my goal for this year is to put a couple on social.
   
   After the students’ initial reactions of “What?” and “Dang, you’re a jerk!”, I’ve sensed an air of fear about when I walk by. Oh, look baby, there’s that crazy assistant dean that wants to stunt our social life! Yes, I do, kids. And what’s a better time to ruin the lives of Romeo and Juliet then on a school outing/camping trip?
   
   So after supper, when tummies were full and most faculty were ready to turn in for the night, my fun began. My sidekick Elvin and I began our own game trek, scouring the throngs of students for couples trying to get “too close.” I sauntered around like an overconfident policeman, my mini-MagLight as my baton. While we didn’t catch anyone - or more important, anything - our presence was felt. Batman and Robin once again saved the day. Hold your applause.

Ok, I’m tired. OUT!

-cw

Observations | Seniors, camels' milk, and slithery things

NAIROBI, KENYA – I think I’d rather type blog posts from the comfort and privacy of my own PC in my apartment.

Right now, I’m sitting in an internet café in Nairobi, chatting with my parents, downloading MP3s, and typing this blog post. I am forced to use this sweat-filled, fly-infested stall to keep in contact with home since our internet at MAA sucks the big one.

3 observations:

1. Are all Seniors so obnoxious? Was the EA Class of ’03 this bad? Heck, was I this bad? I know the class underneath me couldn’t have been more full of themselves had they had a 10-gallon bucket, but still, is this normal?
   
   For chapel on Tuesday night, the seniors put on a “play” showing how they acted freshmen, sophomore, and junior years, compared it to how “different” they are now, and how united they are now, etc...Funny, I haven’t seen a more preppy, exclusive-to-only-seniors, full-of-themselves class since EA04 “rocked the house.” These guys are so cliquish, they won’t even hang out together as a class. But they’re the ones explaining to my kids that it’s easy to work together and become the “great, close, united class we are, so we can all become a great, close, united school!” *BUZZER* I don’t think so.
   
   Funny, after the worship, Mr. Thomas came up to the front to give some announcements, and one of them was “no, Seniors cannot have their own bus.” I’m sorry, what did you just do your worship over?


2. Camels milk isn’t bad. Fresh off the heels of my “Kissing the giraffe” escapade, I decided I hadn’t done enough disgusting things with African animals yet. So when Valerie and I walked into the all-natural food store in the Sarit Center and saw Fresh Camels’ Milk, we both knew what was about to happen.
   
   Long story short, it wasn’t bad at all. It tasted just about the same as normal cow’s milk, except with a slight chalky aftertaste. We downed the whole thing together (with two guest sips from Heather and Honey – Elvin wussed out). Apparently the stuff is good for Diabetes Type I patients, increasing their insulin production by 30%. I don’t know about all that, but I didn’t get the runs, so I consider it a success.


3. New on-campus trend: Getting abnormally too close to snakes. First, on Monday night, Valerie and Elvin walked past night guards hunched over a spitting cobra that one had killed minutes before. Then, a day later, a reportedly “really really big” gardener snake made its way into MAA’s Newspaper Editor’s room and slipped underneath her bed. Valerie was woken up at 5am to the sounds of screams, and she rushed to the room to find 95% of the girls in the dorm standing on chairs, desks, and beds so the snake wouldn’t nip them.
   
   Hey, I’m not saying that condescendingly. If I find a little guy within 50 feet of me, I’m going to get on the first flight off this continent. No way, not me.


4. Bonus observation: MAA Internet still sucks. Ok, so for those of you that have written me lately and sorrow-filled to see I haven’t emailed back, let me again apologize and say “UM, IT’S NOT LIKE I’M ENJOYING IT!” I am unable to send out mail. Oh, yea, I can receive it just fine. I can look at almost any page on the internet, download programs, install Java applications, whatever is out there. I just can’t SEND information: emails, blog posts, accepting of fantasy football trades offered by my dad. It sucks.

Ok, so I think I’m off. Tomorrow, I’m heading to Masai Mara for a weekend camping trip. Expect… no, wait… Hope for a new post coming on Monday morn! Love you all!

-cw

Observations | Freshmen, Plimpton, Pyramids

DSC02499
Originally uploaded by webby37.

MY APARTMENT - Giraffes taste… weird.

I can only imagine what readers imagined this picture’s caption to be. Well let me calm all fears: her name is Lara, and we are in love.

Yesterday, for MAA’s Sabbath afternoon activity, about 30 kids and lucky faculty headed out to the African Fund for Endangered Wildlife’s (AFEW) Giraffe Petting Zoo, located only a few minutes away from our campus. In only 30 years, AFEW has helped to increase the number of endangered Rothchild giraffes in the world from 130 to 300. At the center, you can check out a few of these big fellows, pet them, and even feed them pieces of dry cereal.

Valerie and I had been told that while normal visitors hold out the giraffes’ cereal in their hands, extra-daring guests will put small pieces in between their lips and let the gentle giants “kiss” it out of them. Valerie dared me to, and I (timidly) declined, but after seeing her and about 10 other students give it a shot, I finally decided it was something I’d have to try out.

This, my friends, is the result of that decision.

Three Observations:

1. I will always be a freshman at heart. As I wrote last Thursday, I am (one of) the new freshman class sponsor(s), and last night, I had my first chance to flex my power/leadership/position, at our annual Junk Night (a.k.a. “Class Scramble”).
   
   It was a great chance to get our kids hyped up for the year, and they seemed to respond all right. The class, traditionally ending in last place because of their lack of experience, managed to come in 2nd place to the Seniors. Not bad for the rookies!


2. “So you came all the way to Kenya, got your few shillings of stipend for the month, and then spent it on a book about football?” Yes, it’s true. As the football season begins, I’m forced to keep tabs with my Kansas City Chiefs through taped games that arrive two weeks after their played and play-by-play accounts of drives via MSN Messenger (thanks, dad!). However, that’s not enough. I still have the overwhelming desire to keep up with my favorite sport. So on my last day off, on our visit to the beautiful Yaya Center, I picked up a copy of a book I’ve been looking for in the last few months: George Plimpton’s Paper Lion.”
   
   A thirty-six-year-old rookie quarterback wannabe, George Plimpton joined the Detroit Lions for their preseason camp and stuck with the club through an exhibition game before the paying public a month later… [he] culminates his apprenticeship by calling a series of play in an exhibition game in Pontiac Stadium… netting minus 29 yards in five plays.” -- back cover.
   
   It’s turning out to be a really great read, and I’m excited for the next chance I get to sit down and read it. However, I must hurry. Also in my list of books-in-progress: The Rough Guide to Egypt, Battle Cry by Leon Uris, and Lauro Martines’ April Blood. More to come on those later...


3. Speaking of Egypt... I’m going! I’m about 94.2% sure that I’ll be hanging out in Cairo, Luxor, Aswan, Alexandria, and Mount Sinai over Christmas break! My traveling companion, Valerie, seems to have backed out on my trip in favor of climbing this tall African mountain, Kilaman-something. Therefore, I just might just be going alone. Oh, there’s a chance that one of the faculty families joins me, but I really doubt it – I'll be exploring the country by myself!I’m not worried, though. I feel like in Europe I proved to myself a few times that I can handle travling alone, and so I’ll be just fine. It would have been great to go with Valerie, but without her, I’ll be able to move without worrying about taking care of others. :)
   
   So, if this happens (I’ll know for sure by the end of this week), I think I’ll be leaving December 15th (the day after finals) and returning January 6th - 3 weeks! In this time, I’m hoping to spend a couple days in Cairo and Giza, home of the Pyramids. There’s close to 100 of them, just a day trip from Cairo, so that’ll be a few great days of exploring. Next, I plan on working my way down to Luxor, possibly taking a Nile cruise down to Aswan and back, and then swinging over to Mt. Sinai (via Cairo, plus a quick day trip to Alexandria). My plane ticket will only be $365 round trip, so I’m not too worried about spending a lot - I think I’ll be able to do it for no more than $750. We’ll see, though...


4. Bonus observation: This is KC’s year! To all the doubters, HOW ‘BOUT THEM JETS? Sorry, does Chad Pennington still exist? Didn’t NY use to have a great linebacker, somebody Vilma, that was a premier run-stopping LB? Can’t most Pop Warner teams score in the red zone without a blocked field goal and/or stupid fumble?
   
   While my parents and best friend were sitting in my seats in Arrowhead Stadium at noon yesterday, I was trying to shoo guys into their rooms for study hall at 8pm here. However, once I managed to bolt all the doors shut, I sprinted back to the office to try and “watch” the game on ESPN’s Java Ticker online. Of course, the net ended up freezing and had to be shut down for the night. However, thanks to the magic of text-messaging, I was able to receive updates live from Arrowhead (thanks again, dad!). 1-0, baby! Only 18 more to go before we’re declared champs!

Allright, time for a nappy-nap. Keep watching for another update!

-cw

Loco | Will I ever be kissed again?

DSC02499
Originally uploaded by webby37.

NAIROBI, KENYA - Or the better question: Will I ever be kissed AS WELL again?

-cw

PSA | Webb is not dead, nor is the Daily Cowbell!

NAIROBI, KENYA - As I sit in an internet cafe in Nairobi, able to access my blog for the first time in approximately 72 hours, I've come to realize something:

Maxwell's internet sucks.

I barely can get email, can't seem to send them out, am unable to look at certain Chiefs pages, can't come close to accessing my fantasy football or blog, and am unable to chat without being disconnected at least a dozen times. So just so my avid fans at home know, I am still trying to get it to work, but for a while, my internet, and sadly, the blog, will be down. Sorry.

I still will write to the blog, attempt to publish to it, and back post when able. So pray that my connection works. Later!

-cw

p.s. Yesterday I kissed a giraffe! Story to come...

Observations | Girls' Dorm worship, Repairren das Internet, Freshman class sponsor

MY APARTMENT – Here’s the downside of my year of mission work in Africa: There’s no one to play poker with!

The other SMs haven’t seemed to interested in playing, and Elvin doesn’t want to play (for reasons undisclosed to me). It’s pretty much impossible to deal to and bluff myself, so that leaves playing with my students as the only option. And although I’ve taught and played Texas Hold’Em with high schoolers in Peru and at Broken Arrow, I feel like playing here with kids that stay in my dorm is taking it to a whole new level.

So for now, I’ll be good. I can last a few more days. I won’t teach anyone. Not yet. However, if you hear a story on the news of a teacher from a Christian school just outside Nairobi, fired for changing his students’ Kenyan Shillings into poker chips, please send help!

Three observations:

1. I don’t want Valerie’s job. Last night, as previously noted, I switched dorm worships with my SM counterpart’s dorm. It was definitely different from what goes on at 7pm in our house. Most notably, there were all girls there!

As soon as I walked in the door of their building, it was like a rock star showed up: some screams, young women running towards me, and some running away to become more “decent.” After talking to a few before the service began, we all headed into the dorm chapel for song service. Although my guys do sing in harmony, unlike any guys’ worship I’ve ever heard before, it was still light-years behind the ladies’ worship. Every song was loud, 2-or-3 part, and included a variety of claps, feet shuffles, and arm flagellations. That’s right, dancing! I’d read about this phenomenon in the books!

Finally, my talk. I was very nervous; I’ve gotten used to looking out over my guys. They understand my jokes, they get where I’m coming from. These ladies, I didn’t hardly know at all, with a few individual exceptions. I began by introducing myself: my name, my job here, where I was from. I mentioned Ariel being in her third year of academy, and all hell broke lose. All the Juniors in the chapel stood up and paraded about for 3 minutes, yelling “’07!” like a bunch of retarded hens, not realizing that they were just making themselves stand out to the farmer, looking overhead to pick out the morning’s kill. After the scene finally calmed down, I quickly went into my worship thought (the Chiefs/faith) before anyone else could stand up and do more “shout-outs.”

All in all, they weren’t too bad. They talked a heck of a lot more while I was talking, and they were “a bit” disgusted when I mentioned that Ariel and I had skipped the Nelly concert last year to watch the preseason Chiefs game... on TV. But they seemed to enjoy it all right, and I know they understood my message, so hey, that’s the whole point, right?

2. Foot in the door. This morning, Elvin dropped the tip on me that he was planning on heading to the Richlis this afternoon to work on some computers, and he thought it’d be a good time to fraternize with the future employers. He didn’t have to say anymore; I was in.

After I worked a few hours at the elementary school (verdict: not quite as successful as last week, to say the least), we swung by the house, where an assortment of computer issues were waiting for us. Elvin fixed one laptop’s internet while I casually mentioned my pure dominance over the Union College Communication department. I was shown a few sample copies of the East-Central Division Herald -- not too impressive, but not bad. I was about to nose my way into a job when she sent Elvin to fix her Apple laptop, leaving me with a smaller Samsung one.

Now, despite what my family thinks, I’m not that knowledgeable in fixing PCs. I can tinker with network settings, and possibly fix issues involving improper installation. So when I found out the issue was with the internet not running on her daughter Lara’s laptop, I knew I could be all over it. Now she’ll have to offer me a job, I thought. I get her Yahoo! and she gets me an internship!

Little did I know I faced an obstacle so difficult as I did. I hit the power button, waited for Windows to load, and was surprised to see that the login screen, usually easy to understand, was now completely in German! I would have to fix this PC without really knowing what the screen was saying. I quickly snatch Lara up, set her on the chair next to me, and informed her that if she wanted the laptop fixed, she was obligated to read me every icon, every title bar, every pop-up that appeared on the screen. With that front cleared, we began the adventure.

With Lara’s help, I made my way to the Internet-Wahlen screen, changed the proxy to Maxwell’s settings, and plugged in the Cat-9 cord. I clicked the Internet Explorer icon. No net. I moved over to Netzeinstellungen. I/P settings are fine, looks as good as any German computer I’ve ever seen. Internet Explorer again... nothing. Reset the I/P to auto-detect, then recheck proxies... *buzzer*. Nothing. I was ready to scream when I heard myself say, “Ok, let’s just restart it and see what it does.”

5 minute later, Lara was checking her email, instant-messaging her friends, and explaining to me why she didn’t let me know when a pop-up informed her to restart her computer! I wanted to strangle the kid, but since her mom, Mrs. Richli, had seen the whole scene and now saw I was persistent, it worked out for the best. On our way out of the house, she asked me if I’d ever be interested in copy-editing a few of her articles. Score!

3. Say hello to the freshman class sponsor! Now this is weird. 7 years ago (which sounds a lot longer ago than it feels), I was sitting in classrooms like these with my classmates, deciding upon class sponsors. Now, I am one. Weiiiiiirrrrrrddddddd...

My stomach hurts, and I’m pretty tired. It’s only 9pm here, and I’m ready to hit the sack. My dumb kids aren’t even going to bed for another hour. Am I getting old? I dunno, I’ll think about it tomorrow. Now, I’m hitting the sack.

-cw

Link | "Hey honey, I bought you some new undies..."

BOYS' DEAN'S OFFICE - Quote of the day:

“Last winter I started suspecting [my wife] of cheating. In an act of desperation I bought these panties and boy am I glad I did."

-cw

Feature | "MEAT me in Heaven": a photo essay

MY APARTMENT – I used to think it was an unfair stereotype. Black people don’t like chicken any more than white people or brown people or yellow people or any other colored people. That’s typecasting an entire race, and that’s not right, I’d say.

I had to adjust my philosophy when I really got to know a few blacks. Ok, so they DO like chicken. But that doesn’t mean ALL black people do. I mean, what about Africans? They’re all too poor to like chicken. Yea, it’s definitely an American thing. The obsession began in Harlem or the South Side, not Uganda or Zaire or Kenya.

However, I am now sure I was mistaken about that, too.

Three observations:

1. Confirmed: black people love chicken. If you’ve ever watched a group of 8 academy students, mostly black, tear into a bag of cheap, stink-filled poultry, you’ll understand what I now know. I mean, watching them eat gives me flashbacks to my worst Cannibal Holocaust nightmares. They eat the chicken like there’s no tomorrow, probably not even enjoying it to its fullest. The point is to rip into it, devour its deep-fried flesh, and suck the bone dry. These guys make Hannibal Lectur look like Mr. Rogers.


2. It originated on the Dark Continent. A quote from my head R.A.: “Oh man, we love chicken. It’s in the blood. It’s refreshing to us. We, like, look forward to the next time we can enjoy some. I mean, I’d do anything for chicken.”


3. It must be (a) greasy, and (b) eaten like it’s greasy. An unsuspecting visitor might step in our lobby and actually believe that these supposed good, handsome, clean-cut Adventist boys are all nice kids. Hey, they had me fooled. I mean, I thought the world of these young men... until I saw them eat. Then, all hell broke loose. They gradually use their hands less and less until their faces are practically buried in a pile of fowl carcasses. And then they lift up their heads and look at you, with meat still dangling from their teeth (THEY’LL GET TO IT, THEY’LL GET TO IT!), and smile, cheeks still stuffed with the poultry and faces wet with chicken grease. It’s their moment of ecstasy.

---

It all began early this afternoon, when 8 of my students decided they’d earned a special meal to commemorate the first 18 days of their 2005-2006 school year. They’d sent a native African worker into town to pick up 2,250/- (around $30) worth of fowl and fries, and now, immediately following dorm worship, they intended to devour it.

The gentlemen began by congregating around our lobby’s coffee table, speaking in hushed tones. One of the guys brought the bags of chicken to the table and carefully unwrapped them, gingerly, not to disturb the corpses. He set them, one by one, in front of the men, already salivating at “the sweet scent.”

When the time was right, the leader of the pillaging carefully took a piece and passed the rest on to the boy to his left, who also carefully took and passed. This went on until eight guys held apiece of chicken in their hands. Then, slowly and politely, they bit into their wings, breasts, and thighs, and, after adequate chews, breathed a collective sigh of relief. Their addiction had been fed.

As the seconds passed, however, the courteous and respectful façade faded away, and the terror began. They started eating faster -- slow enough to still be polite, but quick enough to polish off the skeleton and reach for another. The conversation increased, as did the odor of partially-chewed chicken, bathed in grease. The air grew sticky as the boys grabbed piece after piece, each time replacing it with a sucked-until-dry bone.

I couldn’t move, or, alternatively, wouldn’t move. With the amount of “meat being digested” increasing and the amount of “meat left” decreasing, I saw that they’d soon be capturing and consuming anything -- or anyone -- that was in the path of destruction. Bit by bit, I managed to slip back to my office and bolt the door shut, just in time to hear screams of pain and anguish coming from around the table.

One hour later, I unlocked the door, cracked it open, and peeked my eyes out. I was relieved to see that the lobby was cleared and the meat-o-philes had scampered back to their rooms to begin working on their nightly homework. The lobby was cleaned up, and with the exception of the chicken stench still in the air, there was no sign of the massacre that had just taken place.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, the violence is over! Spring is here! The Great Chicken Feast of 2005 had ended. No one had choked on a bone, and with the exception of 2 freshmen stupidly standing nearby, trying to catch a sight or whiff or piece of airborne poultry trying to escape, we had suffered no casualties. Thank God we’re all alive.

---

Captions
Picture #1 (left): Harvey Santos looks up while the other guys hunch over their meat.
Picture #2 (right): The victim.
Picture #3 (left): Elvin and I look on as Daniel S. and Lusyomo fight for Shalom's breast... chicken breast, that is.
Picture #4 (right): Lusyomo carefully opens his meal, not wanting to disturb the sanctity of the poultry.
Picture #5 (left): May destruction begin. Chris Bina (center) begins the festivities.
Picture #6 (right): All that remains...
Picture #7 (left): And I tought Shalom was one of the good ones.

-cw

Neato | You Know You're From Kansas When...

NAIROBI, KENYA - I thought of home when I read this.

You Know You're From Kansas When...

• You've been hit by enough tornados to know there is no such thing as Oz
• You can properly pronounce Salina, Basehor, Schoenchen, Olathe & Osawatomie.
• A shotgun is your idea of instant messaging.
• You learned how to shoot a gun before you learned how to multiply.
• You're ready to shoot the next person who asks about Toto & Dorthy.
• You've had classes canceled for heat & snow in the same month.
• You support the Chiefs through thick and thin.
• You have to travel 20 miles just to go to the nearest mall.
• The only tourists you see are on the way to Colorado.
• You know the meaning of Rock Chalk Jayhawk.
• Your closest neighbor is more than a mile away, and you can still see him from your front porch.
• The terms Sooners, Huskers and Missouri Tigers cause the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up straight and your blood pressure to rise.
• You are not surprised to find movie rentals, ammunition and bait all in the same store.
• You know everything goes better with Ranch.
• You know the real way to pronounce the name of Clintons state and the river... arKANSAS.
• You never met any celebrities. (Bob Dole isn't a celebrity, he's your neighbor.)
• You prefer the Little Apple over the Big Apple as a place to live.
• You had at least one summer job that was bucking bails or custom cutting.
• You understand the difference between 3.2 and 6 point, and more than once you've made a beer run to another state.
• You know in your heart that K-State can beat Oklahoma in football.
• You call that smell coming from the feed yards "money."
• You know that Mt. Oread is really only just a hill.
• Down south means Oklahoma.
• You can properly pronounce Basehor, Cimmeron, Schoenchen, Kechi, Chautauqua, Arkalalah, and Osawatomie.
• You really do think Sunflowers are beautiful.
• You went to skating parties as a kid.
• You'll pay for your kids to go to college...unless they want to go to OU or NU.
• Your earliest driving lessons were in a field while picking up hay.
• Your excuse for being late is the cows got out, and the boss accepts it MANY times.
• Your main drag in town is two blocks long.

Observations | Redesign, Girls' Dorm, Gilligan

BOYS’ DEAN’S OFFICE – Who would have ever thought that watching a recording of a Chiefs preseason loss would be the high point of my day?

My wonderful day off began early with (1) receiving my 2nd package from my family, (2) talking to my favorite person in the world, and (3) a super-quick staff worship. And that was all before 9am! After lunch, we headed into town to explore the Yaya center (a super-nice shopping mall) and then took a pit stop for more incredible coffee at the Java House. After an entertaining drive home (through Nairobi rush hour traffic), I headed over to the Bible room, the closest place with a VCR to my apartment. It was great to see te boys in action again, and I can’t wait for the season to begin... so I can not see games until two weeks after they’re played. *Sigh*

Three observations:

1. My blog looks different... who’s been touching my blog? This morning was devoted to updating the look of the former “Chris Webb’s blog” to the new-and-improved “Daily Cowbell.” Hopefully, this change in style will signal changes for the better to come. More likely, same old crap, different package.
   
2. My first dorm worship tonight... in the Girls’ dorm! Valerie and I have agreed that tonight, we’ll switch to eachother’s dorms to do the worship thought. I’ll be doing my award-winning “The Chiefs and Faith” talk, while apparently, she’ll be talking to my guys about either snakes or “respecting women.” Which do you think her girls suggested?
   
3. I will not be eugugolizing for Gilligan’s funeral. He survived a doomed three-hour tour, avoided certain death by coconut, and managed to live on a deserted island for three years. But Bob Denver couldn’t escape cancer, or complications in his treatment. He was 70.

I’ll try to do another update later. See ya’ll!

-cw

Neato | My Big Fat Greek Redesign

NAIROBI, KENYA - It was time for a change. Plus, c'mon, you have to admit: It is pretty.

-cw

Link | What can you say in 100 words?

NAIROBI, KENYA - Found on 100words.net:

"I wish Winter would hurry up and get here. I like the cold. During the Summer, everyone’s out doing stuff and i’m forced to look at them all when I have to go out on errands. They probably feel the same about me- i’m usually pretty nice to folks even though i’m wishing they’d go away. I’m the guy that could live on that island surviving on crabs and building fires with sticks. Hey, I like seafood! I would beat Gilligan to death with a club made of coconuts. I’d probably roast the Skipper over a spit for Christmas dinner."

And so begins my new hobby. Anyone wanna take the challenge with me next month?

-cw

Observations | Fez, Sabbath School, and Punishments

MY APARTMENT – “Here comes the rain again.” “Rainy Day Women.” “Flower in the rain.” “Grace like rain.” “Purple Rain.”

This is my iTunes playlist during my first African downpour. At 4:50pm, there were hardly clouds in the sky. At 4:55pm, it had gotten dark, but didn’t look like it was “storm worthy.” By 5pm, the monsoon had begun.

It was beautiful, and a welcome sight to remind me of home. One of the things I miss the most about the Midwest is our tumultuous and volatile climate. Even after the horrors we witnessed in New Orleans these past few weeks, I still believe that storms are God’s natural fireworks show for us. Beautiful.

As promised, three bonus observations from the past few days:

1. Fez attends Maxwell Academy. I have a student whose voice is exactly the same as Fez’s from That 70’s Show. As much as I wish I could seriously converse with him, it’s pretty much impossible to keep from bursting into laughter whenever he speaks. Is it wrong if I tell him to get some testosterone or get out of my face? I wonder if Maxwell has a steroid policy...
   
   
2. MAA Sabbath School is intense... and interesting... and invigorating. Alliteration aside, I can honestly say that this week, my Sabbath School (led by my Shalom, Mulela, and Marlon) was the most talk-friendly, interactive lesson study I’ve sat through in years. We debated, we bickered, we ran our opinions over “Christian responsibility” into the ground and back again. Does this happen anywhere else? Nowhere I know of.
   
   
3. Punishment is fun! Today, I’ve punished 5 students for offenses varying from the mundane (general insubordination) to the bizarre (taking pictures other students on the pot). Sadly, the best punishment I could come up with was grounding from rec. Not as impressive as a few days ago, when Captain, my trouble-maker, was out of his room after lights out, and I made him scrub toilets with a two-inch travel toothbrush. Oh yes, Carlos, I do have punishing potential.

Ok, since I’m off until tomorrow morning, I think I’m going to watch my ripped-off Nakumatt version of Mr. and Mrs. Smith with Elvin. Tomorrow is my afternoon off; update on my latest Nairobi adventure soon!

Miss you all! Please write and keep my in your prayers!

-cw

Observations | Kanye, Fantasy Football, Employers

BOYS’ DEAN’S OFFICE - After my first weekend on duty, I went back to my apartment to watch “Cinderella Man,” the Russell Crowe boxing movie. I didn’t expect it to be too great.

It was.

“Cinderella Man” joins the ranks of some of my all-time favorite sports movies: “Rudy,” “The Waterboy,” “Seabiscuit,” “Hoosiers.” In the words of Will Ferrell (acting as James Lipton), “if you haven’t seen it, go to a place where video tapes are recorded or rented or sold and rent it or buy it and WATCH IT. It is like looking into the face of God and hearing Him say ‘You are my most wonderful creation.’”

Now, for some observations...

1. Kanye West is a di... a fu... is not a very nice man. Hi boys and girls? Can anyone tell me a fun and exciting way to ruin a perfectly fine telethon? No one? Oh, you, Kanye, in the back, thank you for raising your hand. Do you have something to say?
   
   ”I hate the way they portray us in the media. You see a black family, it says, ‘They're looting.’ You see a white family, it says, ‘They're looking for food.’”
   
   Ok Mr. West, that’s enough…
   
   ”It’s been five days [waiting for federal help] because most of the people are black.”
   
   That’s enough, mister. I’d better not hear one more peep out of you…
   
   ”George Bush doesn't care about black people!”
   
   That’s it, go to the principal’s office! That kind of juvenile talk will not be tolerated. This is a classroom, not NBC!
   
   For a more “factual” account of this treason, click on this link.
   
   
2. Fantasy football is in the air! A much happier subject, I must note. I now present the 2005 Moldy (African) Cheeseballs:
   
   Quarterbacks: Byron Leftwich (JAX), Kurt “The NFL Sleeper Pick of the Year” Warner (ARI)
   
   Running Backs: Priest “About-to-become-league-MVP” Holmes (KC), Ronnie Brown (MIA), Thomas Jones (CHI)
   
   Wide Receivers: Marvin “I benefit from the best QB in the league” Harrison (IND), Nate Burleson (MIN), Lee Evans (BUF)
   
   Tight Ends: Eric Johnson (SF), Kris "What's up with Kris' spelling their names with Ks now?" Mangum (CAR)
   
   Kickers: Jay “I couldn’t kick a habit” Feely (NYG), Neil Rackers (ARI)
   
   Defenses/Special Teams: Buffalo Bills, Indianapolis Colts
   
   Let the games begin, Bralley.
   
   
3. My future in Africa? I was tipped off by my boy and roommate, Elvin Ho (“And yes, laugh at his name all you want, but he could be the man who very well saves your son’s life”) that these three weeks I’ve been here, I’ve been living 2 houses down from a future employer!
   
   The Richleis (sp?) are a division family that live on the Maxwell campus, at a spare, unused house. The last two weeks, the SMs have eaten Sabbath lunch at their house, never asking what the do for the division.
   
   Answer: He is the East-Central Division’s Communication Director, and she is the layout editor for the division newspaper.In other words, I should have already been bowing before this family, begging them for future employment.
   
   After lunch, Valerie and I had to leave back to our dorms, but Elvin stayed to talk to them. Come to find out, the division is looking for skilled photojournalists to help in their magazine and with their videos. Any takers?

Ok, that’s all for now. I might do a bonus blogpost later today. If you’re lucky.

-cw

Stuff | In your prayers...

BOYS' DEAN'S OFFICE - As our Sabbath day approaches, I again implore you to keep New Orleans in your prayers.

Remember, even now, God is watching, and He's in control.

-cw

Observations | Montezuma, Schoonard, Burnt-out tastebuds

BOYS’ DEAN’S OFFICE - And so begins my first weekend on duty…

For the first time in the (recent, relatively memorable) history of Maxwell Academy, two SM Assistant Deans will be on duty, at the same time. This is an unprecedented move by the administration, who felt that Valerie and I would be able to handle the dorms without supervisors. Yes’m, this is huge¡

So at in and hour and a half, I’ll be doing room check for the guys dorm, looking for traces of dust, filth, and general disorder. The guys here all know me, and are pretty comfortable with me, so I hear whispers that this check will be a piece of cake.

Boy, do they have a surprise in store for them.

Three observations from the last day:

1. I am getting sick. But like, for reals. Ironic that yesterday, after the post I made about Hurricane Katrina, I actually felt an overwhelming urge to go to bed. This was followed, 8 hours later, by another overwhelming urge, this to remain in bed instead of going to staff worship. Afterwards, yet another overwhelming urge came, this time to go back to sleep. After three hours of that (and various trips to my “throne room”), I’ve come to the realization that I might not be at the peak of health. That sucks.
   
   
2. Eric Schoonard needs to fix his PC. Ok, so somewhere in the vicinity of every 3.2 seconds, your profile on MSN keeps showing you signing in. This is very distracting for someone who falls out of his chair whenever he sees a friend online. Fix it!
   
   
3. Tuna and Ramen don’t taste as good anymore. Could it be? Could I be becoming sick of these two tastes? I’ve mixed them together with every known spice on the African continent, but it doesn’t help. What do I do? Is there a support group for this? ¿Si no, porque no?
   
   
4. BONUS OBSERVATION OF THE DAY: Everyone hates me. First, the family is going to KC this weekend to the Rock the Light Christian Music festival in Kansas City, where my favorite band, Third Day, will be performing. Then, since they won’t be at home to watch the Chiefs game, I won’t be able to get play-by-play over MSN like I have the other games. And to make matters worst of all, I’ve stopped receiving emails and blogposts from everyone. Why am I always alone in this worrrrrrrrld????

Ok, I’m going to take “the Browns to the Super Bowl” now. (Get it?) Take care, and happy Sabbath to you all!

-cw

Stuff | Sick.

MY ROOM - I literally get sick to my stomach whenever I read a story about New Orleans, or whenever I see that picture of the Superdome with the roof peeled off, or whever I see the footage of the now-homelss, trudging through the swamp that was once the 504. I literally want to throw up whe I see it.

I've stepped up with millions of other Americans and decided to do my part to help in the recovery. My tithe money for my first two months in Kenya -- a very small amount, but a lot to me -- is going to the Red Cross to help their relief efforts. I challenge you, back in the 'States, to do the same.

-cw