Laura Shen on Exploring Religion in Kenya

By: Laura Shen

March 16, 2010

During an Environmental Law lecture earlier this semester, my Kenyan professor asked the class, "Raise your hand if you're a Christian." I paused for a moment and put my hand up. I was baptized as a child and received my first communion; to me that seemed like justification for raising my hand. Almost everyone else in the class had their hand in the air too.

“Now,” the professor continued, "Keep your hand up if you believe in God and the Bible." I put my hand down immediately without seeing that everyone else's hands were still up.

"You," pointing at me. "Why did you put your hand down?" The classroom of elevated hands had disappeared, and now everyone's eyes had shifted towards my seat in the middle of the classroom.

"Well, I was baptized and received my first communion but that was because my parents did it to me. At this point in my life, I don't believe in God or the Bible. So, in a way, I was born into Christianity, but I am not a practicing Christian."

"There isn't a difference between the two," my professor stated quite frankly. "How old were you?"

"Well, I was a baby when I was baptized, so maybe several months? Then, I was 8 years old when I received my first communion. However, I don't think that as an infant or child, I could've given my consent to join the Christian faith." My argument seemed logical, especially when confronting the issue of consent and the inability to do so at such a young age.

"But, how can you consider yourself a Christian if you don't believe in God or the Bible?" He asked, having missed the point of my previous comment. Just as I was about to speak up and reiterate my argument, the professor quickly changed topics to something besides religion.

For the rest of the class, I sat confused and infuriated at the teacher.

Was I wrong to put my hand up? I don't often think about the role religion plays in my life. I was raised in a Roman Catholic household, but when I reached my ‘rebellious’ adolescent years, my parents stopped forcing me to go to church, and I made the decision not to embrace religion as part of my life. I could have kept my hand down, but after having been baptized and received the Eucharist, I felt like it counted for something that could be considered Christian.

When I think back to the moment I raised my hand, I considered other aspects besides my own personal experience with religion. My environment affected my decision to declare myself a Christian. In my experiences with Kenyans up until that point, religion appeared to play a large role in their lives. On the first day of my internship, one of my co-workers asked me what church I attend. Even matatu (minibus) drivers, some of the craziest human beings in the city, openly embrace God in their vehicles’ with flashy religious slogans and tacky decorum.

A part of me believed that by raising my hand I would be fitting into Kenyan culture and society. As one of the only white students in the class, I didn't want to separate myself even more by not identifying with a religion. Christianity seemed like a good option.

Then, there was the issue I had with my professor. I was frustrated because I wanted to make him understand my point of view. I wanted to convince him there was a difference between being born a Christian and a practicing one. When speaking with a law professor, I would assume that they possessed reason. I thought my argument would have some merit to warrant a thoughtful conversation. Instead, I was quickly shut down. To me, it seemed like the professor's judgment was clouded by his own Christian beliefs. However, in that moment, I did not take into account that when speaking to a person of serious faith, sometimes you are either completely Christian and believe in God and the Bible or you're not a Christian. Perhaps, my definition of “reason” isn't universal.

Another factor that contributed to my frustration with the professor was my comparison of him to other professors with whom I have had religious discussions. Georgetown is a Jesuit university, and while I previously stated that I rarely think about religion in my daily life, there have been incidents in classes in which religion has become the topic a heated debate. My professors, especially the Jesuit ones, have been very open and receptive to long conversations and fostered discussions about religion that occasionally extended into meals at the Jesuit Residence. Therefore, I believe my Environmental Law professor's inability to meet my expectations, which were very high and from a different education system, contributed to my reaction.

Even though I was upset by this incident, I think it was an important experience to have early on in the semester. It made me conscious of religion in Kenya and made me curious about how people practice religion (if at all) and what role it plays in society.

To find out, I walked around a shopping center near my internship and documented people's perspectives on religion. I left the topic very open-ended and was surprised by the responses I received, as well as the responses I didn't receive. I thought everyone would want talk about religion, but many people were hesitant. As much as I thought religion in Kenya was different from religion in the United States, from what I filmed, I discovered many similarities. Many people didn't want to talk about religion, which is something I've also experienced in the United States. One man, who called himself Mwalimu, commented on the fact that many people simply take the religion of their parents without actually understanding their choice. His view mirrored my own experience being raised Christian, then abandoning it when I began to think for myself. This exercise made me look forward to learning more about perspectives on religion in Kenya and engaging in the thoughtful discussion I lacked with my Environmental Law professor.

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