November 1, 2012

That I don't

Over time, I've noticed a couple of things about myself that many Kenyans tend to find baffling:
That I don't go to church, and that I don't take milk with my tea.

Finally, after 8 months of dodging awkward questions, I have found a solution on the first point.  I have found religion, and it turns out (...drumroll...) I'm a Baptist.

Or, rather, I've found a Baptist church near my work that holds aerobics classes thrice weekly, which I attend with some co-workers.

My first church.

The aerobic classes themselves are quite fun; we bounce around to Pop-y gospel songs inside a room with cartoon Jesus murals.  Shout!  For joy!  For the son of God.  He's the sa-ving one.  He's the sa-ving one!  It's like doing Kick-boxing to Lifehouse music.  I usually don't wear my glasses, so everything is a blur, and I can't understand the accents of the instructors, so I just give it my best guess and flail.  Sometimes my confusion is innocuous.  When they say "you can't swim with a muscle pull" and I hear "you can't swim with a massive ball" I just get odd visualizations of a person struggling to play with an over-sized beach ball in the ocean.  However, there's a lot more riding on the distinction between "heel-toe!" and "hit her!"

Jesus loves you workout room.

Before the session, we pray for a good work-out, and after the session we share our feelings on the music and take prayer requests for the entire gambit of human ailments (from a kidnapped child or sick family member, to a lost document and clear traffic on the way home).

But it still works!  Last night when my taxi driver asked if I also believe that God protects us all, I was able to say, "I go to the Baptist church on Ngong Rd," and awkward silence averted.

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