Civil Rights and the White Tax

Refugee In America
There are words like Freedom
Sweet and wonderful to say.
On my heart-strings freedom sings
All day everyday.
There are words like Liberty
That almost make me cry.
If you had known what I knew
You would know why.
~Langston Hughes

My cousin, Colleen, was working on this poem in the early hours of the morning as I had already started my day today. It reminded me of some of the events of yesterday, Orthodox Easter, if you didn't know. Yesterday morning I listened to Francis Chan's Easter sermon on i-tunes (podcasts are downloadable for free). He talked about the largeness of Jesus Christ. Chan began the sermon asking the crowd to raise their hand if they thought they could beat him up if given the opportunity. Some people were hesitant, while others, even young ladies in the front row, raised their hands. Then Chan went into how powerful Jesus Christ truly is. I am not going to go into all the details of the sermon, but you can listen to it if you have i-tunes on your computer and look up Cornerstone Sili Valley Church. Two things I'll mention about it are: one, the said beating up of the Pastor; and two, a quote that was referenced from J. Vernon McGee, "This is God's universe and he does things his way. You may have a way, but you don't have a universe."

I greatly enjoyed that quote as it is so bold, yet clear, and possibly offensive to some of you. One thing Francis Chan covered in the sermon was that Jesus did not come to cart around sheep and baby bunnies. He came to show us how to live and to save our rotten, stinkin lives. And that, sometimes, was/is offensive to people.

All that said, the second quote was worth mentioning, but had nothing to do with today's post. After listening to the sermon yesterday morning and spending some prayer time on the back porch, the boys and I went to Kisii to get supplies at the beloved Nakumat. To get there we walk up a monstrous dirt path to the road, where we then catch a matatu (van or station wagon form of public transport). We waited at the road for some time before anyone stopped. Within minutes of a matatu stopping, a man emerged from the vehicle shouting at the driver in kiswahili, and in English said "I can pay anything you want! Just because you see the color of their skin and the color of mine!" He continued yelling and we realized that what was happening is that the driver was kicking the man out so that he could try to get more money from us by charging us the "white tax" (hyperinflated price given to mzungus). So the man, who was well-dressed and probably has a middle class job, was offended (and from my counseling stance, probably hurt) that he was kicked out by probably someone of his own tribe, and definitely by someone of his own race and nationality.
Upon realizing the situation, unanimously, we refused to get in the car with that driver. Then, of course, the driver asked the man to get back in, and good enough, the man refused. When the driver pulled away, the man pulled himself together, but was still angry (understandably-- I think that would rock my entire day). We offered our apologies and told the man that we also felt the driver's act was unjust. The next matatu that pulled up had only room for 1, so off he went.

We quietly waited for another matatu to come-- I think all of us might have been digesting that event (at least I was). Several minutes later, we piled into a matatu and headed towards Kisii. Along the way, we saw a large crowd stopped on the side of the road, watching something from over the guard rail, down in the valley. So, of course, the driver pulled over and asked what was going on; and it was a thief being beaten to death for his crime. Here, and it seems, all over East Africa, thieves are beaten on-the-spot by an angry mob (is possible); and if the thief was sneaky enough to get away undetected, then he is tracked down by the angry mob and then beaten. So, on this Orthodox Easter Sunday, on the way to Kisii, a thief was being beaten for his crimes while EVERYONE watched, including everyone in the matatu, who quickly filed out to watch. I stayed behind in the car because, even if just, I don't enjoy watching people being beaten. I'll keep my thoughts on that to myself.

When people had had their fill and/or the beating was over (I'm not sure which), people piled back into the car and off we went. I'm not really sure what to say about those two events, but rather I'll let those stories tell themselves. Something didn't sit right with me about either story in light of the big picture of the universe that was painted for me in the Francis Chan sermon earlier.

What are your comments on the stories? You can leave a comment without signing in or leaving your name if you choose not to. For me, From the first story of the man being thrown out of the matatu for being black, was enough to remind me that we still have a ways to go in civil rights; and that as whites, we have the power to reject those injustices by not giving in to the certain "comforts" given to us by our color.