The Course Of Understanding part 7

7. THE MOMENT(S) OF TRUTH
In these final seconds before the plunge, it might be beneficial to determine what was my primary fear. Well, I was certainly worried about my visa application paper. Four pages of small boxes and questions, most of which I hoped didn’t apply to me, because even the English translation wasn’t much help in figuring out what they wanted. In previous government offices, simply failing to fill in a box correctly could warrant instant dismissal, and I had 5-8 questions about the application. However, this was not my primary concern. Of course I was worried about my ability to communicate in Czech. I was very conscious that my brain was not exactly at full capacity (if you’ve ever heard the phrase "a few french-fries short of a happy meal," we could now say that I was "a Cheeseburger and a small Coke short of a happy meal."). However, the ability to explain my papers and excuse any problems could be the difference between visa and no visa. But really this was only a "tie-breaker" sort of issue. I was quite concerned about the translations of my documents. As we saw in the first chapter of this drama, even though my school director is a licensed translator, several events made it clear that her translations are not recognized by the government as "official." It’s ironic that the official translations cost half your soul with 10% interest! Anyway, by hook or crook (I’m still not sure which), I’d gotten this far on my director’s free translations, but what now? Those past loopholes involved an unknown level of luck and miracle, so will they accept that here? It was a concern, but I was prepared to fight tooth and nail over it. Also, I was very frightened about what they would think of my American Criminal Record. This had been gained at the very last minute by my parents from the Chico Police Department, and was simply a short note on official stationary stating that: "Out records do not disclose any information of a criminal or derogatory nature regarding this individual for the date ranges listed. Consequently, it is our opinion that he/she may not be considered harmful to general order." A number of you might have a number of bones to pick with this statement, but it was rather relieving for me to know that they don’t officially have anything on me back home. You know how it is: you can always assume that no one connected you to "certain events," but you never know for sure until you ask. However, the problem was not in the debatable wording of this document, but in a simple comparison with my Czech criminal record, which was decorated with an abundance of colorful official stamps, several different illegible styles of handwriting, and enough bureaucratic fluff to make it look like a certification of knighthood. This opposed to a simple text message with a signature from America. Given the apparent Czech love of bureaucracy, I anticipated problems.
Really, I could go and on like this and cover dozens of points, and in these last few moments before the embassy door I was going over them. Every little detail had some aspect which could be made into a problem, and in my experience with this process, very few potential problems didn’t materialize. However, my greatest fear is still unnamed. As I stood trembling before the slowly opening door, which seemed more like proverbial floodgates, the most present thought was this: how evil will the lady be?
Through the course of this story we’ve discussed a little about the typical Czech public worker. They are women, a little above middle aged and beyond, they don’t speak a word of English (despite listening to people try for the last 15 years), they hate their jobs, after so many years in the same work they have learned to feel nothing for your difficulties, and in most cases they seem to take pleasure in making life difficult for you. That’s the key: they don’t like YOU! YOU make their job difficult. Without YOU they could just relax and read the paper all day. It’s YOUR fault! They don’t seem to understand that without you their job wouldn’t exist.
With every level of this visa process, I started to understand that it really didn’t matter if I had everything in order (no one does), or if everything was exactly right (it never is), what matters is what mood the office lady is in at that moment. If she doesn’t like your eyebrow color, nothing on God’s green earth will save you. If she’s feeling indifferent to you, then you might have a 50/50 chance of success. You just never know. As you can see, this issue is the foundation of all the sub-concerns listed above. Depending on the person, all the possible problems can be brushed away like flies, or manifest as flies feasting on your mangled body. So I knew what to expect, and I knew only too well what I would be facing. My first priority was to get a look at her eyes, just to know how bad it was going to be.
I’ll take the liberty here to remind you that I had one shot at this. As I explained early on in this story, I had recently discovered that none of my official documents could be older than 6 months, and by work permit would be 6 months old next week! Returning to Prague to sort out some details and coming back later was not an option, besides the fact that I couldn’t afford it! Despite the very real possibility of getting sent away over the smallest inconsistency, this had to work the first time.
All this flashed through my head in a second. There was even time for it to flash through a second time, because it seemed that the door opener had an overdeveloped sense of the dramatic. On well-oiled hinges it slowly slipped open, as if from a gentle breeze. I could almost hear the soft piano music as the people around me looked frantically about in slow motion. It was the one second of the battle before the first shot is fired, the second of the race before the sprinters launch off their blocks. I took in a deep breath.
At this moment the Romanians behind me decided to test my resolve again, and they tried to push forcibly past me and into the almost open doorway. I fell against the wall to block them, as the Ukrainians surged forward in front of me. I tried to stick to their backs, but suddenly found that I was pinned to the wall! All semblance of a line disintegrated as a mass of people pressed towards the door. I started to struggle frantically.
Suddenly we all fell back, as if faced with the newly risen sun. The door was open, but the doorway was blocked. From my dismal vantage point pressed against the wall, I got an impression of a large man, probably 6’4" and maybe 250 pounds, with a full salt and pepper beard, large dark eyes, and a presence of comfortable authority. As the flood of people stepped back to give him room, he addressed the crowd from the steps, holding his sizable hands out for silence. "Okay everyone, please be calm. There aren’t so many people here today so we’ll have no problems helping everyone. Just come through the door one at a time and take a number, and we’ll assist you in that order." It wasn’t until he went on to say the same thing in Czech that I realized the impossible: he had said it in English. From that point on, everything he said to the crowd he said first in English, then in Czech, then in German. Why that order? I don’t know, but I instantly started to love this man. Despite my shock at hearing my native tongue, I was able to slip back into my rightful place while the others were listening to the Czech announcement. As I stepped in behind the two Ukrainians, I took a small paper with the precious number "3" on it from the man (my new hero!), and stepped up the stairs into the small waiting room. The walls contained two teller windows for talking with an official. The waiting room was quickly overcrowded, with people sitting on the steps and against the walls, but I was too busy preparing myself for the next step to take any notice. I noticed that thankfully the man in charge had finished handing out the numbers and then taken a place behind one of the windows. The other window was occupied by his assistant, a young woman in her late 20s. My friends each went to a window with a handful of papers, and I realized that I was next. I quickly tried to gather my papers together, and then glanced up to see the younger Ukrainian, who had been talking with the man through the window, leaving with several blank forms. Apparently he needed to fill out several other things. "Number Three," the man called out, and suddenly it was my turn.
I approached the window and nearly threw my stack of papers through the space under the window. On top was my Passport, so he would see I’m American and continue speaking my language, and under that was the convoluted visa application. Despite the astonishing disappearance of my arch-nemesis, the female Czech bureaucrat, I was still almost hysterical with worry, and ready to jump on any negative thing he said. To say that I was feeling defensive would be a gross understatement.
"Okay," he said in a relaxed bar-tone, "let’s see what we have here.... Hmmm, so, in this box..." Seeing that the indicated box was empty, I started to hurriedly explain that I hadn’t known what should be there. However, I didn’t have time or need to finish the sentence. "Please put an ‘M’ here..." he continued. And when I had done so, "And you’ll want to check this box here, and please write ‘2012’ here, and this should be today’s date, not yesterday’s. I’ll just change that for you..." Slowly and calmly, completely unaffected by the swarming crowd behind me, he walked me through each section and waited for me to enter the correct data. I honestly pinched myself at least once to make sure I hadn’t fallen asleep outside in line.
"Okay, that’s all finished. Let’s just take a look at your papers here. Here’s your work permit..."
He took his time looking over my permit, while I watched with bug eyes. At the end he looked at the date of issue, looked over a calendar to verify his suspicions that I had procrastinated, and put it aside.
"Okay, that’s fine. What else do we have here?"
I gasp silently in relief.
"What’s this paper?" he asked next.
"Oh, that’s a letter of financial security from my parents. And here’s the translation behind it."
"Hmm, is this a fax?"
I panic.
"Well yes, but well you see I um had to get it sent very quickly and I um-"
"But it’s okay. You don’t need it, since you have a work permit."
I close my jabbering mouth and focus on breathing.
"And this paper here?"
"That’s my American criminal record. And there’s the translation under it."
"Hmmm," and he held up the official looking Czech criminal record to indicate an unsatisfactory comparison.
I break into cold sweats.
"Well yes but I did of course ask them for a criminal record and this is what they sent and I guess that-"
"But it’s okay. You have an American passport, so that’s good enough."
I regain consciousness and support myself against the wall.
"So here we have your passport and birth certificate. Hmmm, where did you have these translated?"
I lose all motor skills. I had not been able to prepare an excuse for this one.
"I buba blub uga blabaha blabaha ugaba! A bubublahaba-"
"Okay don’t worry. I can read the originals just fine, so that won’t be a problem."
I feel my heart unclench and start pumping blood again.
By this time I was almost finished. No, not finished with the papers, I mean FINISHED. Notwithstanding the kindness and highest level of gentlemanly behavior of this king of bureaucrats, every step of this evaluation was killing me. The best comparison I can imagine is being one of those inflatable boxing balloons: I was trying with every ounce of strength to stay on my toes, but every question knocked me on my back again. I wasn’t sure how much longer this could continue. At the same time I noticed that he had separated my papers into two piles: the needed papers and the unneeded. The second was noticeably thicker. I had mixed feelings over this. On one side, I was thinking about the many frustrating hours spent by me, my parents, and my school director to obtain these documents. On the other side, that was a lot of complications being thrown out the window. I decided to be grateful and move on. Things were going suspiciously well, but the journey wasn’t over yet, not nearly!
"Hmmm, why is this here?" He was holding the Boarder Crossing Report. I’d had no idea what to do with this.
I try to access my prepared excuses file, only to discover that my brain had crashed.
"I didn’t I didn’t I didn’t abla blabl ablablab labl ablalb!"
"You won’t need this until you have you visa and are entering Czech Republic with it."
I gasp, not so silently this time. The implementer of this torture, may God richly bless his life, looked at me with great sympathy. Feeling the sincerity of his concern, I almost found the strength to smile.
"Don’t worry," he said again. "We’re almost there." It is highly possible that I smiled.
"Here we are," he continued, "the last paper."
I feel my eye twitch.
"Ah yes, the ‘čestné prohlášení.’ Hmmm." He frowned in thought while examining the paper.
"Well, is this a copy?" It was in fact a copied paper, though my writing on it was original. This was the paper they had given me at one of the many offices back in Prague.
"No!" I spluttered. "It’s the original!"
"Hmmm, it should look like this," he said, holding up an original printed version of the same.
"Also, there’s the problem that we need the signature to be verified."
I die.
I had no idea what was involved in the process of signature verification. Frantically searching for connections, my brain remembered a process of document verification for one stage in my work visa. I remembered the building, in the west of Prague, and the whole process had been an ordeal of at least two weeks. Could life possibly be so melodramatic as to send me back to Prague on the very last paper in the stack?
"So, everything else is okay. You’ll just need to get this verified and come back."
Come back?!?!
"Okay," I answered weakly, practically begging him to be gentle, "how do I do that?"
"Here’s what you’ll do..." he said, holding up a small map.
My brain suddenly had a meltdown. My friends, it was map of Prague! I stood in shock for about two seconds, noticing that the man’s lips were still moving but I wasn’t hearing anything. I made a tremendous effort to tune him in.
"... and just walk to the right, and it’s the third door on the left..."
I took a closer look at the paper, to realize that it was in fact Bratislava. My brain re-solidified. My brain melted again. Oh Merciful God, it screamed, It’s a Map!
"... it’s only a five minute walk. Just ask them to verify your signature and come right back here. You can come to the front of the line."
I nervously licked my lips and swallowed hard. He must have noticed my hands shaking as I cautiously took the map from him. I saw him wrinkle his forehead at that, as I mustered up a small fatalistic smile. Then I turned, walked through the crowd, and out the door.
As the door closed behind me, I took a moment on the doorstep. In my life I’ve had a few experiences that allow me to feel I’ve approached the experience of combat. The most vivid is working Drive-Thru at Carl’s Jr. Hamburgers. The second is the room I’d just walked out of. I was breathing hard, and while I didn’t think I would actually throw-up, I thought I might feel better if I did. I still chose against it, though. In the last 48 hours I’d had 4 hours of sleep, and the last 24 were some of the most intense of my life. I was holding a map in my hand, and I wasn’t sure I could find the strength or courage to even look at it.
But as I looked around the square, I noticed what a beautiful day had dawned. The sun was bright, I’m sure there were birds singing, and somehow everything looked hopeful. I looked into the distance on my left at the bridge I had walked into darkness a lifetime before. It was now busy with traffic and alive with the life of the city. I looked across the square in front of me at the dark and icy bench where I’d spent the bitterest hours of last night. It was sitting comfortably in a ray of sunshine, ready for a young couple or a mother and her child to grace its sturdy wood. Then I looked down at my feet to the cement doorstep, where five hours of cold had passed a second at a time. Though those five hours had ended only 20 minutes before, they were over. It suddenly hit me that I’d done it. The final step was before me, and the strength to take it flowed into me. True, there might be some problems at this unknown office. True, I might have trouble finding it. True, this new Map might be evil. But all that washed away in the flooding realization that this was the end of the journey. Nothing was going to stand in my way now.
I felt ready to run to my destination. "Now wait Caleb. Stay calm, and let’s just find the place rationally and efficiently." My logic had been smothered under panic lately, but now it spoke calming word to keep me from flying off into the city. I took a deep breath, and resolutely set out.
Let’s just say that the new map wasn’t evil. It wasn’t the most well drawn or helpful map I’ve ever seen, but not evil. I didn’t exactly get to the office in 5 minutes, nor without a wrong turn or two, but about 15 minutes later I was ringing the buzzer outside the door. Someone in the office opened the door from upstairs; I walked in, went up the stairs, and met the lady waiting to meet me. I tried English first, got a favorable response, and explained what I needed. She understood instantly, and guided me into the office. I now realized that I was at a notary. All so simple!
The man who helped me (found out his name was Erik) spoke English with a perfect American accent. I considered asking him where he’d been in America, but didn’t feel like I had the time or energy for chitchat. He was very friendly and helpful, and even hummed over his paperwork, asking me to sign here or there at intervals. As he worked, one final concern entered my mind: what is this going to cost? I realized that I only had 100 Slovak Crowns in my wallet, less than $4. My optimism started to drop a little and I began creating alternate plans in case of complications. I started to breath a little heavy again.
As Erik pounded my paper with the final official stamp, he smiled at me and said cheerfully "That’ll be 70 crowns, please." I happily paid him, took my paper, and joyfully walked out. Exiting the building, I allowed myself a moment to simply hold the paper, feel it, and even smell it. It was the last step, and now it was finished. I half ran straight back to the Embassy, went to the door and rang the buzzer. A voice answered out of the speaker:
"Hello, Mr. House?" It was my friend, my angel. I stood in shock at being called by name. I wasn’t a number here! Strangers were taking care of me! How beautiful indeed was that moment. I answered.
"Yes!... I’m back!"
The door opened, and I stepped in, floated through the nervous crowd, and then stepped forward triumphantly. I returned the map, and held out my completed ‘čestné prohlášení’ with pride. I still have no idea what this specific paper is actually for, by the way. But it didn’t matter.
"Okay," he said, gathering up my pile of "needed" papers and returning the others to me. "Please wait here two minutes and I’ll be right back." With that he was gone.
It was finished. I almost couldn’t believe it was true! Everything around me, the dark room, the anxious atmosphere, the uncomfortable people, everything faded away to leave me standing in a beam of pure light, listening to the angels singing. Success is a beautiful thing. At that moment you treasure all the pain and difficulty, almost wishing for more, just to make the moment sweeter. Not me, though. I couldn’t imagine a sweeter finish, or a happier moment. Every desperate thing I’d done had played its part, and now it all came together. It was finished.
"Um, Mr. House?"
I opened my eyes to see that he was back behind the window. I smiled and answered unsuspectingly:
"Yes?"
"Well, um..." In the back of my mind I realized that he was uncomfortable. With an effort I tried to pull my head out of the clouds and focus a little.
"There’s a problem which I didn’t notice before..." he continued.
"Okay," I answered, wondering if I’d have to make another errand to clear this one up.
"It’s with your work visa," and he held the paper up. "You see, it was issued on October 21st, and it expired June 15th... This means it’s too late."
"Oh, but you see it’s not six months old yet. It will be in a few weeks, I know, but it’s still valid. Here, let me show you on the calendar-"
"I don’t think you understand. It’s true that it’s not too old, but the significant problem is that it expires on June 15th. You see, we require that all applicants have a work permit valid for at least 3 months, and this one isn’t."
"But... but it’s only a difference of two weeks!" I looked down, and saw that he was handing my papers back to me.
"I’m very sorry." Looking into his eyes, I could see that he was. I will never forget that look of absolute sympathy. Even given the circumstances, if there hadn’t been glass between us I might have hugged him. Given the circumstances, it’s a good thing the glass was there.
About this time my mind started to grasp what was happening. Or rather, what had happened. I’d never known about this rule, and was completely unprepared for it. Too late I attempted my rebuttal. Think mind, THINK!!! I frantically looked for a way out.
"Maybe," said my brain, "we could say that the office got the dates wrong..."
"No Caleb," answered my logic. "It won’t work.
"Well, well we could explain that it’s using the American date system, and it’s not the 15th day of the 6th month, but the 6th day of the 15th month!"
"Caleb, there’s no 15th month in the year."
"Okay, then I’ll refuse to go away until he gives me a visa!"
"Look in his eyes, Caleb. He’s already done everything he can for you."
"I’ll take hostages! I’ll make them listen to reason! It Can’t End Like This! Not after everything It’s Not Possible! There Has To Be A Way Out!!!"
"Listen to me Caleb. Take a deep breath... and take back your papers."
"But there’s-"
"Just... take back the papers. Trust me, there’s nothing left to do."
In the two seconds this conversation required, I slowly started to realize the truth. I looked again into the eyes of this kind man, who seemed physically pained to turn me away. I realized that if his strong, helpful hands were tied up, then there was nothing that I could do beyond that. He knew the situation, he knew what was possible and what wasn’t, and he was telling me the way it had to be. It was finished. Through a haze, I spoke to him one last time.
"I... I didn’t know..."
"I’m sorry," was all he said, and he moved the papers closer to me. I slowly took them back, and opened my backpack to put them away. Before turning from the window, I sent a small smile, the best I could muster, through the glass. I still wanted to think him, somehow really express how grateful I was for his care, his humanity. But already someone else was pushing in front of me, and my chance was passed.
As I walked back through the room, I caught the eye of the older Ukrainian. He was sitting near the far wall, filling out some papers. He looked up at me.
"Máš to?"
"Ne, nemám." I let out a long sigh. "To bylo šílený, víte."
"Škoda."
"Tak, ja nevím. No... uvidíme. Uvidíme." I shook his hand. "Tak, těší mne, a na shle.”
With that, I walked out of the room.
I came out into the day (which was actually starting to get a little hot). Taking one step down, I began to smile. The smile turned to laughter. I laughed harder and harder until tears started shooting from my eyes. I laughed until the guards at the American Embassy next door started looking strangely at me. With that, my feet stepped in, and carried me, still roaring with laughter, off the steps, across the square, and into the city beyond. It was finished.

When Cultures Colide

This might be the best thing I've written so far, especially from an academic perspective. It's a paper I wrote as a final project for Anthropology in the Fall of 2006. It's a very long paper, so don't try to read it all unless you have some interest in cross-cultural interaction or the mechanism of historical change. But if you are interested in those things, this should be very interesting for you. As always I apologize for the formatting (if anyone knows how to post without losing paragraph indentations and extra spaces, please let me know). I'd appreciate any critical opinion of my conclusions. Enjoy!


When Cultures Collide
It happens every day at a thousand different locations across the globe. Two cultures, each formed under distinct circumstances and stresses, encounter each other and attempt to coexist. The manifold interactions between these two entities is more complex, and much less precise, than the most advanced chemical reaction, and the result is the enormously multi-cultural world we see today. No culture has ever been a complete island unto itself, able to escape all influence and outside penetration. In fact, while we are often led to see as nicely packaged and stand-alone cultural identities planted like trees in an orchard, the truth is more like a jungle canopy, a network of fluid give and take, in effect causing nearly imperceptible or drastic transference from and to every piece constantly.

THE KIKUYU OF KENYA:
A first-rate example of culture clash occurred in what is now Kenya, starting in the 1880s, with the meeting of two cultures with histories of substantial expansion success. One of these was colonial Britain, and upon its arrival in Kenya it quickly came into intense contact with the Bantu group known as the Kikuyu (also known as Gikuyu). The Kikuyu were (and still are) the dominant ethnic group in Kenya, both in population and politics. Their homeland in nestled around the slopes of Mt. Kenya and the surrounding area.
While the Kikuyu initially welcomed the Europeans into their home, possible as a result of previous prophesies that resistance would be disadvantageous (Kenyatta 1938a), they soon realized the dire threat they faced: the systematic eradication of the very foundations of their cultural identity.
The question which this paper will address is: how do cultures change each other? There are certainly a plethora of approaches one culture can take in changing another. In the case of the Kikuyu, it is possible to interpret four separate agents of change.

AGENTS OF CHANGE:
First of all, Force. This often involves using physical power to cause someone to do something different than they would otherwise. It needn’t be physical force; intense economic, social, even religious pressure might also fall under this category. In any case the consequences of noncompliance are extreme and sometimes fatal, and the recipient of this force will feel that he has no choice in the matter.
Second, Influence. This could be seen as “flexible force.” Such things as economic, social, religious, pressure might fit here also, the main difference being that with Force, the recipient changes to avoid prescribed punishment, while with Influence he changes to achieve a prescribed reward.
Third, Appeal. Here the unchanged culture doesn’t attempt to manipulate the recipient to change, the recipient simply finds some aspect of the other’s culture more appealing than his own, and therefore adopts it.
If these were the only agents of change it might be technically possible for cultures to intermingle without alteration. The fourth and final, however, is Environmental Modification. Here it is important to remember why “culture” exists, and that is to better equip its members to optimally overcome the pressure and problems presented by their specific environment, meaning physical environment as well as social, psychological, spiritual, etc. However, the introduction of a different culture into the same living space inevitably alters that environment. Therefore, the circumstances which formed and supported certain customs no longer have the same shape, and each culture must gradually or suddenly adjust to the new landscape.
While we trace the course of these various agents through modern Kikuyu history, it should be noted that rarely is a tangible change brought about by a single one of these. However, by viewing the unfolding events through these filters, it can be easier to draw some conclusions and dispel certain myths about cultural (specifically colonial culture) interaction. This paper will focus on the two primary foci of conflict between the British and the Kikuyu, Land rights and Initiation Ceremonies (Worthman 1987), and will conclude with several shorter but fitting examples of intercultural transference.

FORCE, THE NUCLEAR OPTION?:
A common assumption is that direct force is the most common and efficient tool used by an infiltrating culture to bring about change in another, especially in the case of colonialism. It is easy to see why this perspective exists. After all, colonial interests commonly involve an agenda to alter existing cultures and people according to the needs and preferences of the more powerful colonizer. What surer way to bring this about than by brute force? When all else fails, the threat of death ought to cleanly uproot even the most stubborn cultural element. Thus force is seen as the nuclear option in the realm of cultural manipulation.
In the case of the Kikuyu, however, this appears to be anything but accurate. Taken in comparison with the other observed agents of change it seems to be the rarest used in any pure form. As to its effectiveness in bringing about any lasting change, the following example ought to speak for itself.

KIKUYU AND THEIR LAND:
The attachment of the Kikuyu to their land cannot be over-stated. Jomo Kenyatta, a Kikuyu anthropologist who eventually became the first president of independent Kenya, said in a speech shortly before independence that “Our greatest asset in Kenya is our land. This is the heritage we received from out forefathers. In land lies our salvation and survival” (Kenyatta 1964). Of course, as part of a long tradition of Bantu agriculturalists, arable land is a Kikuyu’s only significant source of food. But the connection goes deeper than this. Through a rather intricate system of land acquisition, homesteads were passed down from father to sons. There could often be a large number of sons, due to the active practice of polygamy, and land was usually granted to a son upon the son’s marriage. As long as the father was alive, he had final say on all decisions, and even regarding land already given to the sons and their families he could call it “his land.” Once he died, the family was allowed to split the area into separate homesteads (Kenyatta 1938a).
It’s clear that this process would cut a large quantity of land into insignificant pieces in a few generations, so an essential component was the development of new land, a task which was pivotal to the existence of the warriors caste. Every year, those initiated as warriors were expected to fulfill their duty to clear brush-land and cultivate new fields (Leakey 1977).
Not only was land the source of life-granting food, a milestone for the coming-of-age process, and a timeline through which the many divisions and branches of genealogies could be traced, but Kikuyu land also obtained a strong spiritual importance. A Kikuyu saying goes “this land is the mother of us all” (National Geographic 2001). A mother carried and nurtured a child for 9 months in the womb, but the land nourished the child for the rest of life. The land, therefore, was the most sacred and revered mother of all. According to Kenyatta, land was also the medium through which contact with the ancestors was maintained (Kenyatta 1938a). To lose the land was to lose one’s past, present, and future.
Enter the British. The conflict was quite simple: the Kikuyu had good land, and the colonizers wanted it. When the British first appeared in small number, the Kikuyu even “lent” the apparent wanderers land to build on and farm until they returned to their own home. It wasn’t until the Kenyan colony had a significant foothold that the Kikuyu realized that the newcomers had no intention of leaving. “The Gikuyu lost most of their lands through their magnanimity” (Kenyatta 1938a).
British settlers, misunderstanding the Kikuyu system of land usage and the structure of ownership, saw an empty country free for the taking. Believing that land belonged to an entire community, they saw no wrong in relieving a few African farmers of their land, confident that they would quickly find another place to farm. But in a society where every inch of cultivated land was under private ownership, and due to the rarity of the ownership of land passing out of immediate family, the families displaced by the British were effectively disinherited. While they could find land that they would be allowed to cultivate, they would not be able to pass it on to their children (Leakey 1952a). Despite the initially small number of landless Kikuyu, it is not difficult to appreciate the impact.
The practice of moving Kikuyu from their land increased for over 50 years. By 1952, when British government declared the Kenya Emergency due to seven years of increasing violence, “of the 20,000 square miles of land in Kenya with a rainfall of more than 20 inches, 5,900 square miles had been reserved for Europeans, who formed less than one percent of the country’s population” (Mboya 1963). Any thought to the effect for the dispossessed had quickly faded, and the Kikuyu “were made to know that ‘might is right’” (Kenyatta 1938a). This intrusion hit the Kikuyu hardest (Arnold 1981), and had the direct result of causing a violent, Kikuyu-led revolution, which is popularly known as the Mau Mau Revolt. But even in the face of severe resistance and aggression against British policy (or perhaps because of it), over 1000 Kikuyu were evicted during the war (Mboya 1963). To add insult to injury, because of the Kikuyu’s central role in the Revolt, their movement and expansion were severely restricted, unintentionally preventing the young warriors from “earning their stripes” by clearing new land. This caused further bewilderment and eventually a major crumbling of the culturally prescribed path to adulthood. The general atmosphere during the Revolt in Kikuyuland was one of barely controlled chaos, and the last 50+ years of land tenure upheaval only increased exponentially.
At this point it can be seen that the application of force did have the benefit for the British of achieving their short term desires. Not wanting to concern themselves with the complexities of a more mutual sharing of land, nor with understanding the Kikuyu’s dissimilar perspective, the colonizers simply took what they wanted and enjoyed the benefits with relative impunity until revolt struck. But what truly lasting effect did these events have on Kikuyu culture?

WILL THE REAL CHANGE PLEASE STEP FORWARD?
After independence, small areas of land vacated by Europeans were given to farmers who did not have farms of their own (Kenyaweb.com 2001). However, the political landscape had changed forever, and the new African leaders knew that Kenya could not survive as a single country with multiple sets of customary law dictating people’s behavior more than government regulations, especially on such critical issues like land ownership. Thus “official rhetoric in Kenya sees customary law as an obstacle to development, and to the creation of a strong united nation” (Coldham, 1979).
The government set up a system of land registration to track sub-divisions, sales, successions, and the inheritance of land. This program, while vital for the ability of the state to regulate entitled ownership and legal disputes, has been largely unsuccessful. First of all, citizens rarely report deaths to the Land Registrer, thus land can change hands multiple times without any official notice. “The reason why people fail to register their dispositions are not hard to find. The fact that a title is registered and that therefore the land ceases to be governed by customary law is unlikely in itself to affect the behavior of those concerned” (Coldham 1979). Among many other problems, this creates a legal nightmare whenever the state is asked to resolve ownership disputes.
The people of Kenya simply see no point in registering their land, as their customary laws still meet all their needs on the local level, and the complication and length of government mediation of disputes usually convinces them to find another solution. “Despite the attempts to bring customary land rights within a new statutory tenure system based on the registration of individual titles and therefore limiting the effectiveness of applying customary laws in land ownership and transfer, smallholder behaviour on the ground has not changed so as to incorporate the new statutory system” (Groppo 2001). In fact, in 2001, 80% of all land in Kenya comprised of Trust Land waiting for registration by a smallholder for cash crops or peasant farming. Only 6% of that land had been registered under individual titles (Republic of Kenya 2001). The Kikuyu still rely on their traditional system of land tenure to gain the land they need, and coming to the government for land doesn’t factor into their thinking.
It is remarkable to note that the customary laws regarding land tenure were subjected to the harshest treatment by the colonizing culture. Direct force was used to negate all resistance, the very foundation of the customs, the land itself, was taken away, and the authority and strength of related customs were aggressively undermined for over 50 years. And yet a cursory look at those farmers whose situation is now reasonably similar to pre-colonization indicates that “Customary contracts…among the Kikuyu will continue to exist; customary rules and procedures governing the transfer or inheritance of land will continue to be observed” (Coldham, 1979).

INITIATION CEREMONIES:
As in many African cultures, another cornerstone of Kikuyu society is the rites and ceremonies surrounding initiation into adulthood. The core of these annual ceremonies, which typically last several days and involve thousands of Kikuyu young people all across Kikuyuland (Kenyatta 1938a), was the act of circumcision of both the boys and girls. The boys had their foreskins cut (though not completely removed), and a clitoridectomy was performed on the girls (Leakey 1977). This operation officially indicated that the initiates were no longer children (though not considered full adults until marriage and parenthood), and granted a number of rights and privileges upon them.
Socially speaking, the most important product of the circumcision ceremonies was the solidification of age-groups. All initiates who were circumcised in the same year become members of one age group, regardless of family or clan. Each group was given a name (usually based on a key event that occurred that year, thus providing an outline of Kikuyu history), and many social rules and bonds revolve around these groups. “The fellowship and unity of these age-groups is rather a remarkable thing. It binds men from all parts of the country, and though they may have been circumcised at places hundreds of miles apart, it is of no consequence” (Kenyatta 1938a).

NGWEKO:
Another privilege that comes of being circumcised is the right to engage in ngweko. This practice is described by Kenyatta as “platonic love and fondling,” and is “considered right and proper and the very foundation stone upon which to build a race morally, physically and mentally sound” (Kenyatta 1938a). Both the male and female initiates are carefully instructed in the proper performance of ngweko by the older girls (Leakey 1977). The general tradition is for boys and girls to meet at a special hut (thingira) which is designated for this very purpose. There they socialize until one of the boys brings up the subject of ngweko. Then the girls are asked to choose their partners. It is not necessary for the girl to chose the boy she is most attached or attracted to. A girl who too often chooses her “boyfriend” will be thought of as selfish and self-serving. This way even the less attractive boys who are without girlfriends are not left out.
Once the partners are chosen they move to the bed(s). For the sake of peer surveillance to prevent violations, several pairs will often share a single bed (Leakey 1977). The boy then removes all his clothing, and the girl removes all except her skirt and a leather pubic apron. These she pulls forward between her legs and tucks into the front, providing protection for her private parts. They lie on their sides facing each other, with legs tightly interwoven to prevent movement of the hips, and “they then begin to fondle each other, rubbing their breasts together, whilst at the same time they engage in love-making conversation until they gradually fall asleep” (Kenyatta 1938a).
The freedom of this custom came with several strictly enforced taboos. It was absolutely forbidden for the couple to engage in full intercourse, or for the girl to ever remove her lower coverings, and indeed the boy was forbidden to even touch her garments with his hands. Any touching of either’s genitalia was banned. Those who violated these rules were severely fined, barred from further ngweko, and ostracized by their peers. A girl was expected to be a virgin upon her marriage, and otherwise would be subject to strict penalties. The choosing of partners was also carefully restricted along relational and age lines, preventing any relatives or members of too great an age difference (5-6 years) from engaging in ngweko together.
The social results stemming from this practice were many. First of all it functioned as the culture’s sex education, with carefully structured instruction and monitoring. Second it formed stronger social bonds between the members of society. Third, it cultivates a lack of jealousy which was essential in a highly polygamous society. After marriage it was even accepted for women to chose sexual partners from among the age-mates of their husbands, and as long as it was not done secretly this was not seen as any cause for marital conflict (Leakey 1977 ). This social openhandedness was believed to have its roots in the practice of ngweko. Fourth, provided an outlet for sexual expression while establishing a respect for the rules of society in the minds of members at a young age. If the seemingly unanimous consensus regarding this issue by anthropologists and members of the culture is accurate, “there was little conflict about premarital sex in traditional kikuyu society” (Worthman 1987).

THE BRITISH REACTION:
The reactions of British colonizers and missionaries against the Kikuyu practice of clitoridectomies and ngweko ought to be unsurprising. Unfamiliar with the culture and social functions, they saw “nothing more than a ’horrible’ and ’painful’ practice, suitable only to barbarians,” (Kenyatta 1938a) and blatant sexual debauchery among the youth. After several attacks on the practice of clitoridectomies, in 1929 the Church of Scotland Mission to Gikuyu decided that only children of parents who had denounced the initiation ceremony and female circumcision would be allowed to attend school. It should here be noted that European schools by this time already had a huge place in the Kikuyu lifestyle. In one example in the region of Ngeca, the school run by Scotland Missions went from a few students in 1910 to over 500 students in 1928 (Worthman 1987). The threat of their children being barred from a modern education was a serious matter indeed. After a great protest and petition to the government, missionary schools eventually had to compromise their restrictions, and so then only demanded that teachers be required to denounce the tradition (Kenyatta 1938a).
There were then petitions through several channels, including the British House of Commons, to stop clitoridectomies by law. In the end these were unsuccessful, in part due to brilliant oration by Kenyatta before British Parliament in which he equated clitoridectomy to the Jewish practice of male circumcision. He writes later that “general opinion was for education which would enable the people to choose what customs to keep and which ones they would like to get rid of” (Kenyatta 1938a). Ngweko, meanwhile, was totally denounced by the missionaries as sinful, and was generally perceived as involving full intercourse without restrictions. Polygamy, perplexingly for the Kikuyu, was preached as wholly unbiblical.

THE KIKUYU COUNTER-REACTION:
In face of the proclamation that “the elaborate initiation rites are pagan and godless, and, furthermore, that clitoridectomy is evil” (Whiting 1986), the Kikuyu, many of whom had converted to Christianity, expressed great surprise. Regarding circumcision, Kenyatta wrote that “it is important to note that the moral code of the tribe is bound up with this custom and that it symbolized the unification of the whole tribal organization… No Kikuyu would ever dream of marrying a girl who has not been circumcised, and vice versa. It is taboo…” (Kenyatta 1938a). Initiation was also the only official was of designating new age-groups, a social structure that was vital for discerning correct social behavior and for clear legal application. Most Kikuyu at this time believed that it was the secret purpose of the government and missions to corrode their social order.
The course of action chosen by many was to continue to perform clitoridectomies, but in secret and without the intricate public ceremonies (Worthman 1987). While this allowed the continuation of culturally accepted marriages, it signaled the collapse of age-group structures. The direct result was that there was no forum for the older girls to instruct the incoming initiates on the proper practice of ngweko (Whiting 1986), which meant sudden uncertainty among the youth regarding sexual expression and restrictions where no uncertainty existed before.
By the 1960s, scholastic progression had taken the place of initiation ceremonies as a marker of cultural age, and academic achievement replaced the traditional methods of evaluating a person’s appeal as a spouse (Worthman 1987). At the same time traditional marriage ceremonies had been almost completely replaced with Christian weddings in Christian churches (Robertson, 1997). The ancient customs were fading fast.

NGWEKO DRIFT:
There is a fascinating side story in the effects that colonialism had on the cultural boarders between ethnic groups after they were all arbitrarily designated as “Kenyans.” The ethnic group to the east of Kikuyuland, known as Meru, shared a large number of customs with the Kikuyu, including elaborate initiations into warrior status and the responsibility of the warriors to clear land. But rather than having the practice of ngweko open to them, the Meru warriors were not allowed to drink alcohol or have any sexual activity for the duration of their time in warriorhood, which could last up to 10 years. This was seen as a test of endurance and bravery and was much respected and anticipated among the youth (Fadiman 1993).
When the Meru fell under similar restrictions of movement and expansion as the Kikuyu, this similarly began the fissioning of the institution. Thus the warriors lost much of their practical meaning and had a great deal of unoccupied time. However, along with the confusion (shared by the Kikuyu) over uncertain progression to adulthood and marriage without having fulfilled their responsibility to clear land, this also eroded the discipline which the Meru typically adhered to. Heavy drinking began to fill much of their time.
Due to the softening of self-discipline rules and the increased contact with the Kikuyu due to colonialism, the custom of ngweko made its way into Meruland. However, disconnected from the cultural context and traditional restraints, the practice became in essence what the missionaries imagined it to be among the Kikuyu; unrestricted sex without code or purpose beyond pleasure-seeking. For the demoralized warriors of Meru, the “breakdown of sexual discipline had tragic results for both men and women” (Fadiman 1993). The frequency of premarital pregnancy, abortion, and child abandonment skyrocketed. Looking back at this time it is said that “real warriorhood died with the coming of England” (Fadiman 1993).

LONG TERM EFFECTS:
It seems that when the instruction involved with initiation rites skipped a single generation, it was enough to divert the entire relational structure of the Kikuyu. Schools now replaced thingira (ngweko huts) as the place to meet members of the opposite sex, and “sex education has not been in the curriculum…consequently, young people are not trained in the traditional mode of limited intercourse, nor in the appropriate, defined partners and contexts in which it is acceptable” (Worthman 1987). When students were asked in 1983 about their knowledge of ngweko, they were “aware that a traditional method of contracepted physical intimacy has existed, none had been instructed in it, and one reported it was thought to be ‘old-fashioned’ and therefore of negligible contemporary relevance” (Worthman 1987). This undefined context of socialization has had the result that premarital pregnancy “which was rare in the traditional system is now not unusual” (Whiting 1986).
Polygamy has taken a serious hit as well. Those over 60 years of age polled in 1987 expressed a 30% approval of polygamy (primarily stating economic reasons), while 7.1% of those in their 40s agreed (“more concerned about detrimental effects on their relationships“) (Robertson 1997).
In regards to the major structures involving sex, age, and marriage, all primary cultural traditions have been torn down. Initiation ceremonies, ngweko, and polygamy are gone or going fast, and in a cultural of formerly carefully defined guidelines and identities, “Today there is considerable ambivalence on the part of both adults and adolescents…” (Worthman 1987).

IDENTIFYING THE AGENT:
Despite attempts to the contrary, at no time did the British force the cessation of initiation rites and related customs, at least not in the way they British land policy was forced. Restrictive law were not passed and no know initiation was stopped at gun-point. The most direct influence on the Kikuyu culture came from the increasing pressure from the schools and churches to end the practice. The actual weakening of the customs was motivated by the Kikuyu’s desire to be accepted in these institutions. This shows how the agents of change here called Influence and Appeal can work together. One culture can influence another by enticing change with the promise of rewards, but for this to be effective the latter must find the offer appealing enough to change or adjust to the demands. Of course chronological either one could come first. It is possible that the Kikuyu were first touched by the pure appeal of Christianity and western-style education, and the British then used this appeal to influence them to change.
In any case there was nowhere near full compliance, only the minimal adaptation needed to achieve the rewards ( harmonious schooling and church membership). If the initiation ceremonies had simply been repressed without being replaced by another marker of age, it seems possible that the custom would have returned after independence. But by that time school had already replaced initiation in this function, and the traditional ceremonies were no longer needed. This is an example of the last agent, which in the Kikuyu context seems to be the most common and effective.
Looking through the theory of structural functionalism, initiation ceremonies served an express social need within the Kikuyu community, a need born of the specific environment. That need was, among other things, for a strong social solidarity and clear guidelines to prevent any social fissioning. The environment in which this was needed included individual reliance upon the community and family members to provide food and/or loans of land, regular threat of raid from outside groups, the importance of each person knowing his place in the ladder of authority, and the need to regulate careful division of labor (for example the warrior class clearing and protecting land). However, the arrival of the British on the scene changed this environment tremendously. The broader economic picture which was opened up to Kikuyu youth gradually freed them from full reliance on their community for survival, and the risk of raids was done away with. The most untouched need was probably the need for clear definition of social standing. This allowed a very different social custom (school graduation) to replace the more traditional (initiation) in fulfilling the radically altered needs.
A similar reading can be applied to the drift of ngweko. While the Meru might blame the British, this would be accurate only in a very indirect sense. After all, the colonizers did all they could to discourage the practice of ngweko, and were not guilty of using force or influence to bring this custom, and certainly cannot be blamed for carrying the custom in with them, which then appealed to the Meru. It could be said that the Kikuyu used appeal, since the demoralized Meru warriors were attracted to the notion (as they understood it) of free sex in that lonely and nerve-racking time. However, it is safe to say that had Britain never arrived in Kenya, this transference would never have taken place. England’s presence and activity in other realms so modified the social environment of the Meru that important aspects of their culture suddenly seemed obsolete. Under the intense new pressures of the world, change was rapid and radical. So far, they haven’t looked back.

OTHER EXAMPLES:
To wrap this study up, it seems worth while to look very briefly at three other aspects of the Kikuyu culture affected by the British culture besides land tenure and initiation. This will serve to give a more rounded view of how virtually no part of Kikuyu life was left untouched and how the agents of change operate in other cases. Each of these examples merits as much attention as the previous two, and hold just as much revelation regarding the nature of change in intercultural interactions, but they are not the focus of this particular paper. They are here simply to reinforce observations already made.

RELIGION:
One of the most thoroughly adjusted areas of Kikuyu life was the spiritual. From absolutely no contact with Christianity and in possession of their own sophisticated spirituality involving ancestral spirits, it is now believed that around 73% of Kikuyu are professing Christians (Wikipedia 2006). The missionaries had great success in early Kenya, bringing the nation to its altar in just one or two generations. This was not done by force, nor by influence (at least not until they were already well established in the native population), and it can be seen that the religious environment was not experiencing sufficient change to render the Kikuyu religion obsolete, witnessed by the fact that many Kikuyu continued to practice the traditional spirituality and simply added Christianity to their beliefs in communion with their ancestors. Part of this is probably due to the relative ease with which the religions could be melded. In Kikuyu tradition before colonial influence “there are three Gods, all called Ngai: one who sends riches, another children and the third misfortune; but these are best regarded as different aspects of the one Ngai (Middleton 1965).” This is remarkable similar to the Christian concept of God, and further explains the appeal of Christianity to the Kikuyu. In the end, it does seem to be just that, the agent of appeal, that brought about the widespread conversion of the Kikuyu to Christianity.

GOVERNMENT:
Comparing traditional Kikuyu government of 150 years ago to Kenyan government today is like comparing night and day, though night and day of the same planet. “The Gikuyu system of government prior to the advent of the Europeans was based on true democratic principles” (Kenyatta 1938a). While mixed with a good deal of magic and sacrifices, Kikuyu government revolved around elections, representation, and justice for the individual. “I can categorically state that my own Kikuyu community had a pre-colonial democratic governance which was better than any in the world today” (Maathai 1953).
The initial change to this government was a forceful overruling by the British. But in many respects the British government in Kenya would far outlive British possession of Kenya. After independence the many ethnic groups were technically free to return to their previous forms of government, but the environment had been too drastically changed to allow this. “Kenya” had fought together in the Revolution, and Kenya needed to be one united nation in the modern world. The formerly European government was taken over by African leaders, and consequently many ironies appeared. The African revolutionaries, those who fought the hardest to end the conflict between colonizer and native, became the instant heirs of the government quarrels with the African people. The clearest one is the friction between modern micromanaging government and the customary law of at least 25 different ethnic groups (Wikipedia 2006).
This came into sharp focus in a court case in 1987 that captivated the entire country. A prominent lawyer of Luo ethnicity named Silvano Melea Otieno (commonly known as SM) died unexpectedly. The ensuing conflict was sparked by his Kikuyu wife who wished to bury him near their homestead in Kikuyu land (according to Kikuyu customary law), and his brothers who insisted that a Luo must be buried near his birthplace (according to Luo customary law). To further complicate things, Kikuyu law gives funeral control to the adult sons of the deceased, Luo law to the brothers, and Kenyan national law grants it to the next-of-kin, in this case the wife. Thus the battle between customary and common law was on, staged in the highest national court, and scrutinize by the entire country who saw their future in the verdict. At one point the wife’s lawyer argued that “Kenyans were living in rapidly changing times and that the Luo, therefore, should not be encouraged to practice customs that were not conductive to this ‘modernity’” (Cohen, 1992). Luo lawyers argued that one cannot chose the laws that apply, and SM was born under Luo law, regardless of his choices to embrace Christianity, government, and a “foreign” wife.
Interesting, despite the fact that common law gives the final word to the disease’s wife, the court ruled in favor of the brothers, and SM was buried near his birthplace. This decision indicates that the period of adjustment to the Environmental Modification brought by the British nearly a century ago is far from finished. When SM’s wife dug her own grave near her home to make it perfectly clear where she would be buried, her Luo brother-in-law allegedly sent her a letter asking her to fill it in, as the wife of a Luo must be buried next to her husband (Cohen, 1992). Indeed, the adjustment is far from over.

SCHOOLING:
If there is any clear example of change by the agent of influence, it is schooling, meaning the change from traditional styles of education to European styles. Missionary school fees were high, often higher than the heavy taxes imposed by the government, but parents were willing to work much harder than usual to give their children an education (Worthman 1987). There are indications that initially the Kikuyu were so fascinated by the Europeans ability to transmit their words by writing them down and sending them long distances where others could pick them up that they thought it was a new form of powerful magic, and were eager to learn it. More practically, as their land expansion was cut off Kikuyu parents quickly realized the best help for their children’s futures was a European education. Examples have already been given showing how quickly the first missionary schools grew. When theological and cultural conflicts grew intense the Kikuyu actually fought for the right to start their own school, in the European style but apart from direct missionary or government influence. This right was granted. The focus on education has not lessened in independent Kenya. Waruhiu Itote, who was known as General China during his time leading the revolutionary fighters in the Mt. Kenya, and who was tutored in English by Jomo Kenyatta himself while they were in detention camp together, wrote that “education rather than guns would be the most important weapon in Kenya’s advancement” (Itote 1967).

CONCLUSION:
The interaction between two distinct cultures is a truly remarkable thing, full of twists and turns that cannot be predicted. However, for any culture attempting to affect a lasting change upon another, this case study of the Kikuyu holds some useful, though potentially disappointing, information. What might be the most appealing course of action, direct force, here proved to be the least effective in the long-term. This was seen in the examination of land tenure conflicts and somewhat in the government example. While both were forced upon the Kikuyu, the former was utterly unsuccessful in sticking, and the latter was perpetuated not because of the application of force, but because of more subtle by-products of the force. This continued European government still often butts heads with customary law, as seen in the SM example. Interestingly, these two cases, land and government, were practically the only causes of the bloody revolution (Itote 1967).
Influence seems to have functioned in a more balanced way, though, in the schooling example, as soon the Kikuyu learned how to produce the desired European education for themselves they cut the proverbial umbilical cord and did it themselves. Therefore the British could no longer use it as a lever, but they were successful in inserting their form of education into Kikuyu culture, which did persist and increase. But in trying to use it to influence the Kikuyu to change specific customs, such as the practice of clitoridectomies, it was basically fruitless.
Appeal went a little farther, though a culture has only limited control over what another culture will find attractive. The Kikuyu were drawn to literacy, Christianity, and European technology and weapons (not discussed here). These things have remained firmly ingrained up to the present day. Another example is the effects of ngweko’s appeal to the Meru warriors, a development utterly unintended by anyone involved, which worked enormous and lasting change upon that culture.
Finally, Environmental Modification was observed in the long-term cessation of initiation rituals (the short term cessation being due more to influence), adoption of European style government, and again in the Meru acceptance of ngweko. These happenings, intended and unintended, showed this agent to be a powerful force in the shaping of culture. As well it should be, since culture is primarily formed by the shape of environment, this agent is touching the fabric of culture in a way that the others can do only indirectly. For, as seen in the land example, no matter how much force, influence, and appeal are applied to a cultural trait, if the surrounding corresponding environment is not significantly altered, the trait will bounce back into place at the first alleviation of those forces.
The conclusion that this writer would like to express to those interested in altering other cultures is that in the examples examined here it seems that there is a direct correlation between the long-term effectiveness of an approach and the practical control with which it can be used. Force is easy to use in a practical way, but for the Kikuyu it proved to be the least effective. Environmental Modification, an agent much too complex for anyone to predict or use with any degree of accuracy, directly rewrites cultures. It would seem that for humans, culture has been set in a “read only” format. And with thousands of cultures colliding in different ways every moment, that ought to be the source of at least some hope for the perpetuation of a diverse and multi-cultural world.


WORK CITED PAGE:
-Arnold, Guy, Modern Kenya, London: Longman Press, 1981.
-Cohen, David William. And E. S. Atieno Odhiambo. Buring SM: the politics of knowledge and the sociology of power in Africa, Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann Educational Books, Inc., 1992.
-Coldham, Simon F.R. Land-Tenure reform in Kenya: The Limits of Law, The Journal of Modern African Studies vol. 17, no. 4 (Dec. 1979) pp 615-627.
-Fadiman, Jeffrey A. When We Began, There Were Witchmen: An Oral History from Mount Kenya. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993.
-Konyimbih, T.M. Land Reform, Sustainable Development Department, Food and Agriculture Organization of the
-United Nations, 2001 <ftp://ftp.fao.org/docrep/fao/004/y2519T/Y2519T00.pdf>
-Itote, Waruhiu, ‘MauMau’ General, Nairobi: East African Publishing House, 1967.
-Kenyatta, Jomo, Facing Mount Kenya, New York: Vintage Books, 1938a.
-Kenyatta, Jomo, Harambee! The Prime Minister of Kenya‘s Speeches 1963-1964,Oxford University Press,1964.
-Leakey, Louis S.B., Mau Mau and the Kikuyu, New York: The John Day Company, 1952a.
-Leakey, Louis S.B., The Southern Kikuyu, before 1903, London: Academic Press Ltd. 1977.
-National Geographic, Africa Savanna Homecoming, Film, 2001.
-Kenyaweb.com, Kenyan History: Independent Kenya, Kenyaweb.com Ltd. 2001.
<http://www.kenyaweb.com/history/independent-k/index.html>
-Maathai, Wangari, Bottlenecks of Development, Bristol (UK) Schumacher Lectures October 1994, on Dilemmas of Development and the Greening of Education, 1994. <http://www.schumacher.org.uk/transcrips/schumlec94_Bri_BottlenecksOfDevelopment_WangariMaathai.pdf> -Mboya, Tom, Freedom and After, Boston, Toronto: Little, Brown and Company, 1963.
-Middleton, John and Greet Kershan, The Kikuyu and Kamba of Kenya, London: International African Institute, 1965. Republic of Kenya, Development Plan 1997-2001, Nairobi, Government Printers.
-Robertson, Claire C., Trouble Showed the Way, Bloomington, Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1997.
-Whiting, John, Adolescent Sexual Training and Behavior, Cultural Survival Quarterly, vol 10.4 (Dec.1986). <http://209.200.101.189/publications/csq/csq-article.cfm?id=699>
-Wikipedia.com:
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_tribes_of_Kenya> last modified 19:23, 13 October 2006.
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kikuyu> last modified 05:34, 14 November 2006.
-Worthman, Carol M. and John W. M. Whiting, Social Change in Adolescent Sexual Behavior, Mate Selection, and Premature Pregnancy Rates in a Kikuyu Community, Ethos vol. 15, no. 2 (June 1987), pp. 145- 165.

The Course Of Understanding part 8

8. REDEEMING FACTORS
That was March 29th, 2004. It’s now August 11th, 2004. Some of you may be wondering why you haven’t seen me back in Chico if I was refused for a visa. Well, it’s complicated... Okay, it’s not complicated. It’s the same way I lived here from July 2nd 2003 to March 29th 2004 without a visa, and the same way most Westerners live in Prague anyway: tourist visas. Anyone with a passport from the West, who doesn’t want to explore the dark corners of Czech bureaucracy, can simply leave and reenter the country every three months and be fine. So why bother with all this to begin with? Well, for one, it’s a gray area, and probably darker than we admit (though I’ve never heard of anyone having any legal problems with it). For another thing, it means that I have legal permission to be here, legal permission to work here, but I don’t have legal permission to live here. That doesn’t sit well with me. The main tragedy of this sage was the defeat, and having gotten so far. The important thing, for those of you who were hoping to see me get kicked back to Chico, is that I’m basically back to the same status I was before, with no long term legal repercussion (though to be honest, it’s still possible!). Also, you might have noticed the name of this chapter. So, being an optimist, I reminded myself that if I had been successful in Bratislava, I would have been required to return two weeks later to pick up the visa, and deliver 3,200 Slovak crowns to the office. This I didn’t really want to do, and couldn’t really afford, thought it would have been worth it to see the process finished. It’s one way to look at the bright side.
Actually, the greatest pain on this day came from knowing that I would be starting the process all over again, right from the beginning. In fact, I’ve already had some fun encounters in that department. For example, try requesting a renewal of a yearlong work visa (thus proving that you had worked in the country for the last year), without being able to show a residence visa for that same year. Yeah, that was fun. However, that is not part of this story. However, I will mention that I’ve been to the foreign police station three times already to get a new criminal record, and still haven’t gotten it. The fun continues.
So, back to Bratislava for the conclusion. Those of you with insanely good memories will remember that my bus was scheduled to return to Prague at 2:00 P.M. on Monday. This meant that I still had 6 hours to kill. But don’t worry, I’m not going into details, because basically all I did was kill the time. It was a very fuzzy time, and I don’t remember a lot. I do remember waiting for the last two hours in the bus station. I tried to read, but kept falling asleep. Every time I drifted off, the full bulk of Les Miserables slipped out of my hands and crashed onto the floor, causing the woman sitting next to me to nearly jump out of her seat! It must have happened three times before she moved across the room.
During my final hours in Bratislava (at the time I figured it’d be the last time in my life), I explored bookshops. Bratislava does in fact have much better bookshops than Prague, in my opinion. The three things that I like about Bratislava are 1. the bookshops, 2. Tesco 3. friendly government workers. I think that’s about it.
While in the bookshops, I convinced myself that I had just saved 3,200 crowns by getting refused for a visa, so I could buy some books! Besides, buying books makes me feel better (or maybe it’s just spending money), and I had a right to a little self-therapy, right? Besides, books are cheaper in Slovakia. I ended up buying an excellent (and massive) Czech-English dictionary, a bi-lingual book called "Tracy’s Tiger," a Czech phrase book, and a pocket Czech grammar book. By that time I figured I’d consoled myself enough and didn’t have much excuse to buy anything more. I wasn’t sure I could carry anything more, anyway.
So I passed the hours, managed to stay mostly awake, and in the end didn’t miss my bus back to Prague. As soon as it pulled up I jumped on, looking forward to the padded seats and planning to sleep all the way home. A few minutes after I got on I saw the two Ukrainians get on. I wasn’t able to speak to them, but it was nice to know that I was on the right bus. You might wonder if they had success at the Embassy. Well, I never found out. I’ve wondered about it myself.
I did indeed sleep soundly on the way back. I only woke up at the boarder when the guard had to shake me awake to look at my passport. Fortunately I remembered clearly enough to ask for a stamp. Yes, another three-month tourist visa. Then I was out again.
The final memory of this journey was when I woke up for the second time. My eyes suddenly sprang open, and I realized that the bus was not moving. A quick look around revealed that there was almost no one else there. Looking out the window and trying to focus on something, I read the name "Florenc," that is, the main bus station of Prague. Seeing some movement at the front of the bus, I noticed a line of people coming in, and buying tickets to Bratislava! I exploded with energy, grabbed my jacket, my backpack, my bag of books, quickly took inventory of everything, and ran off the bus.
Standing on the curb, trying to compose myself and finish waking up, I took a look around. The people, the buildings, the smells, the air, all announced one thing: Prague. I didn’t need an official piece of paper to tell me where I was: I was home.
the end