fishers, surfers and casters

Bright and early this morning the Porticus Fellows began their presentations. The PowerPoint projection system had not yet been set up, so the first presenter had to do it off the top of their head. Given the chair of the fellowship is my supervisor, naturally I was given that short straw. (Though I should really be flattered – Peter wouldn’t have asked me if he thought I couldn’t do it well).

The pressure to eprform was made more intense by the presence of the entire senior faculty of the Catholic Unviersity of East Africa, including the Chancellor and the director for media studies. I did the best I could and I did it well. I managed to respond to many questions, and offer a concise definition of terms for those who had no experience of blogging or online religion.

Later most of the staff of the CUEA approached me to congratulate me on my presentation, which was just me and my nervous twicthes and umms and ahhs for forty minutes. People were generally very intrgued about the religious movement I was studying, the nature of the technologies I was dealing with, and themes of cyberreligion, postmodernism and Australian urban life.

The best thing though was that it was over, and I could spend the rest of the day sitting back and enjoying the presentation of my fellow students. They were all exceptional presentations (with PowerPoint) and really interesting subjects of research involving the meeting of religion and media in exotic places all over the world, from Serbia to Colombia, Mexico to Brazil and up to India. I have notes and photgraphs and will post them when I get back to Oz.

When the day was done we hopped on a bus and went to an indigenous museum and theatre called Bomas Kenya (a boma is a village in Swahili). We walked through constructions of villages of about seven different Kenyan indigenous tribes, where the guide gave us an in depth excursus on how tribes lived, worked and organised families before the British arrived.

Then we were taken to the auditorium where the National Kenyan Dance Troupe preformed six traditional and ceremonial dances, before dragging us on stage to dance with them (It had been ages since I had gone out dancing). We were the only audience.

Would you expect the Australian Dance Company to put on a late show for a group of postgrad students from out of twon? Talk about Kenyan hospitality. Photos and movies when I get home.

Every time I’m in Syndey I wonder about heading up to Castle Hill to get a look into Hillsong, but I never get around to it. Yesterday morning I finally had my first visit to a megachurch, the Jesus Is Alive Ministries service in Nairobi, led by Bishop Margaret. Margaret was a passionate, lively, even at times sexy preacher, with an undeniable love for people, a true knowledge of what it’s like to be poor in Kenya. Her choir sang like the entire city was listening. The audience lapped up every moment. Though I saw a display of faith, hope and love that was genuine, I also thought at times I was watching a caricature of itself. Everything I expected to hear and see – every word, sound and movement – in a Propsperity Gospel megachurch event, I found in the 2.5 hour show.

We group of students were ushered to the front row, declared VIPs. We were offered the greatest hospitality. We were also filmed almost constantly by a four-member camera crew. We later learned the the service will be televised in various networks across Africa and the Caribbean. Nothing like a group of white guys to add legitimacy to your work.

I managed to get out my mobile phone and do some filming myself, though I imagine the quality will be shockingly bad. When I get home I’ll post my material onto Flickr and YouTube so you can have a look at the amazing spectacle I got to see.

For some reason I got bumped up to Business Class for the Dubai-Nairobi flight. After lying completely horizontal for five hours sucking down free Moet & Chandon I’m a lot less grumpy.

The taxi ride from the airport to the hotel was an adventure in itself. The taxi driver told me that the population of Nairobi is about 3.5 million (same as Melbourne). If that’s the case then the entire city was outside my hotel room. Walking through the city was like swimming. I was struck by both streams of poverty and wealth in the same spaces.

This morning I left the hotel and headed for the Catholic University of East Africa. I am early so there are only a few of us, and being a Saturday in August means that the place is almost deserted. The staff present are very friendly. I had lunch with one of the professors, a Fr Victor who teaches Old Testament and Hebrew.

I took a long walk down the street with David (another early visitor) to a curiosity shop that sold wooden artefacts and the like. Had a great conversation with one of the staff. Isaac spoke much about the plight of the Masai and the efforts of the government, of which he talked positively. I answered his questions about the government’s relationship with our indigenous (as much as I knew, he understood the term “police state” well). Then he spoke about his shop, that he owned it with eight other people who all make the goods inside. As soon I told him I was Australian he knew I couldn’t buy anything from his shop (bringing wood onto the island is not allowed), so I was grateful for his hospitality.

Everyone is very friendly, but I’ve spent all of my beggar budget already, so I’m planning to do less walking around for a while. I don’t like rejecting beggars, firstly because Australians don’t have a natural immunity to them, and partly because I believe I’m walking on their land and I need to show some respect to my hosts. But there is really no polite way of saying “Would love to help but I gave all my money to the last guy” without sounding like a fraud.

Dubai Airport is hot and steamy and crowded. I’m stuck here for five hours for my next flight. A coffee costs 9USD. The battery on my phone is running out so I can’t use the free WiFi and the computers at the Internet lounge make me wait a minute for every page to load.

The plane from Melbourne was deceptively uncomfortable. After two hours in the seat the back spasms started. After three hours I was dmeanding another seat. I managed to get one with a little more leg room but it was right next to the toilet, so bright lights were flashing in my face every five minutes accomanied by the sound of the airplane opening up at 4kms. I hadn’t slept for over 36 hours, so eventually I succumbed to unconsciousness for about an hour or so, of a fifteen hour flight.

This journey is going off to a great start.

I sent a text to Kate to tell her I bought her a present at Dubai Airport. She replied asking if it was a “burqa”. I must say I was quite unimpressed. She’s university educated and she can’t even spell burger correctly.