Illustory 2: What does Jesus mean to you?

A simple survey

taken with friends 

at Copley Square

in Boston

Two friends and I took it upon ourselves to go out

and ask passers-by one question:

"What does Jesus mean to you?"

I drew their faces while my buddy recorded their words.

ILLUSTORY
what does Jesus mean to you?

an illustrated story

 
 

"Love and giving"

Becca

"A prophet"

Sheryl

"Jesus is my life, strength, purpose, health, joy, and wisdom"

Roger

"Son of God, savior"

Marcel (from DRC)

"A good metaphor"

Angie (not her real name)

"Awesome cool guy who I don't think should be forced on people by religion"

Allison

---

"He is awesome possum"

Becka

"A friend who walks beside you"

Alice

"Love and compassion"

Jonas

"The center of my joy"

Kiana

"Love"

Betty

"The son of God"

Juan

"A spiritual guy"

Juan's Mom

 ---

"Salvation through his... through the blood of Jesus we're saved if we choose to receive it"

David

"Savior, son of God who atoned for our sins"

Chris

"Basically, son of God, one of the main figures in out culture, respected by other religions"

Ernesto

"A dude who might have existed. But I do believe in God"

Sarah

"Jesus is the reassuring idea someone or something else has the reigns"

Liam

"Jesus is my life"

Javier
(Javier was the most amazing story. 

He cried after we asked him this question 

and we prayed with him right there in Copley. 

It was an extremely humbling experience.)

-----

Overall the responses we received were not what I expected from a crowd in Copley Square at 5 o'clock.  I personally expected responses to be less open to Jesus than they were-- two weeks prior we had some very long and drawn out discussions around Boston Common after asking the question "what does God mean to you" and expected a lot of opposition against Jesus, which was simply not the case.

Although most responses were short we had the chance to speak openly about our own faith with many of the people we interviewed.

Illustory: Second Sunday on Main

SECOND SUNDAY ON MAIN

took place this weekend on Main Street

in Over-the-Rhine

an urban community in Cincinnati, Ohio

My brother and I took it upon ourselves to go out 

and bring a little social experimentation 

to the Main Street crowd: our challenge:

ILLUSTORY

an illustrated story

Here's how it works-- 

my brother and I invited passers-by to share one sentence-- 

then we wrote down the sentence 

and then the passerby continued on their way

(I did a little doodle of the person so we could remember them)

We did this 24 times, 

and to keep the story flowing

we shared one sentence 

with the passerby

but only one sentence  

from the individual who shared before them.

Second Sunday Illustory

written by 

the good people of Over-the-Rhine

It was a beautiful day in Over-the-Rhine, but no one knew what was to come… 

Til they saw the boys in dresses, and they wondered what was going on. 

And that’s when they found the Cok3 

[Please send 89 cents to Coco Cola Industries] 

for a free Coco Cola hat

I’ll be a bad girl for you

If you treat me right

I’ll do whatever the hell you like; and I mean anything 

As long as you promise me a job and taxes go down [hahahah] 

I’ll be yours for the rest of my life

But only if we move to Alaska

I will take you to that one place where I’ll tell you the things that I never had the courage to do. 

I will show you the things that inspire me there and ask you to support my bravery

For it is you who is my soul mate and will carry me through this lifetime. 

But only if you stop closing the beer stand early

More people would stay longer

If they knew what I was thinking

They wouldn’t be fuckin’ smilin’ right now [laughter]. 

Every day you walk down to the well, one day, the bottom’s gonna fall off the bucket

So then you’re gonna have to play a game of basketball

Discotech, break the boogie neck. 

Holy shit, what do you add to that? 

And then, he died.

And that's that.

The Third Quality of Authenticity

It seems clear that the whole preservation and restoration movement is much more than a means of promoting tourism or a sentimentalizing over an obscure part of the past – though it is also both of those things. We are learning to see it as a new (or recently rediscovered) interpretation of history. It sees history not as a continuity but as a dramatic discontinuity, a kind of cosmic drama. First there is that golden age, the time of harmonious beginnings. Then ensues a period when the old days are forgotten and the golden age falls into neglect. Finally, comes a time when we rediscover and seek to restore the world around us to something like its former beauty.But there has to be that interval of neglect, there has to be discontinuity; it is religiously and artistically essential. That is what I mean when I refer to the necessity for ruins: ruins provide the incentive for restoration, and for a return to origins. -J.B. Jackson The Necessity of Ruin

PROMPT: What are the seekers of authenticity actually seeking?

To address the desires of authenticity seekers without first addressing the definition of authenticity itself would be a step misplaced.

“Authentic: not false or copied; genuine; real.”

This definition of authenticity applied to varied fields of study yields surprising findings. In the field of Art, authenticity is the “perception of art as faithful to the artist's self, rather than conforming to external values such as historical tradition, or commercial worth.” From the standpoint of psychology the definition of authenticity stands as an “attempt to live one's life according to the needs of one's inner being, rather than the demands of society or one's early conditioning.”

More generally, authenticity refers to the degree to which one is true to their own personality, spirit, or character, despite external pressures. Perhaps this definition of authenticity hits nearest to intention of what “authenticity seekers” are actually seeking in authentic historic communities. To begin, it is crucial to note in any subjective analysis that “we can only see spaces as authentic from outside them.” (Zukin).

"Slums so feared by the righteous middle classes continue to appeal to artists and intellectuals because of their reservoir of danger and decay as well as their tolerance of or unwillingness to police cultural diversity." -Sharon Zukin

The analysis of a community as “authentic” or “inauthentic” comes from a solid grounding in a variety of academic and social perceptions. One may perceive authenticity as truthful only to its historic cultural grounding—that is, the degree to which a community maintains to its original cultural traits and customs. Alternatively, a community may be perceived as authentic based solely on the state of its physical condition—that is, the degree to which built and infrastructural artifacts are still extant over time. This analysis not only mandates the physical presence of built infrastructure (buildings are still physically standing as opposed to being demolished) but also concludes that buildings must be in use respective to their original function (buildings originally constructed and occupied as residential spaces may still serve that same purpose in the modern day, and industrial/commercial properties in kind true in social purpose to their original built intention).

But there is a third quality; a quality that goes beyond the traditions of a community or the physical presence of buildings and infrastructure the community has preserved. I call this third quality “grit,” corresponding to the social and material evidence of the passage of time and diversity of population and use that transcend the original demographics that once existed and functions that buildings once served. As illustrated by Zukin, “new residents do not always share the same social status or ethnic background, but they do share… a desire to seek out aesthetic evidence of cultural diversity, and an occupational motivation to use the city streets for artistic inspiration” (Zukin).

This quote harkens to our original definition of authenticity as “true to personality, spirit, or character, despite external pressures.” If a community can likewise maintain its personality, spirit, or character, (in spite of physical, social, or economic externalities) it builds that quality of grit. That quality of genuine purpose which seekers of authenticity so adamantly pursue.

A song of spring

The sun rises earlier this time of year then it did in Winter. It sparks life in everything it once melted. The birds are the first to rise, chirruping their praises in hopes the sun will bring them another day full of worms and discarded lunch crumbs. Next buses churn out across one-way roads, and early-risers meet the crack of down early enough to call out to each other words of encouragement as they walk caddy-corner streets apart, striving (as always) to be early to work. But not too early of course!

rooftop view
(Photo cred Dan W.)

This is when I wake up. Or go to sleep, depending on the load of work I'm facing. Most often, I sleep and miss sunrise, which is most unfortunate as sunrise is really the first deep breath of life in any full-blooded day.  But I digress. In any given day I may bemoan my oversleeping, yet rise and strike forth on my trusty bike to climb the hill to campus. Greeting from my bicycle seat the thirteen or so homeless men and women I pass each day, I think it a blessing to pass through such a grounded field of local "veterans" with whom I can share my morning ride- if only briefly- through the simple exchange of waving at one another. The roads are packed with cars and a biker in my part of town find himself oftentimes the lone wolf. If by chance there are other bikers upon the streets we have fun winking, waving, and cat-calling one another to make up for any entertainment that storefronts and windows empty of people would otherwise provide. All this comes before the hill.

The hill.

That glorious, precipitous hill. A mass of land carved from the very bowels of the earth itself.  Daunting. Towering. Unforgiving. It is the single greatest threat to an easy morning ride. A man on his bike has but three options by which he may surmount it-- 

One: stare down the hill. With unwavering gaze, pierce the very rock upon which it rest. Unblinking, a rider pursuing this option must have the most rigorous of demeanors and the most steadfast of constitutions.

Two: avert all visual contact. The hill stretches upward and upward for but one mile, though its distance grows all the longer peering up the hill to see the next curve- the next fruitless switchback yielding switchback and switchback beyond. Adhering to the Japanese saying "after climbing a mountain... there is yet more mountain" those pursuing option 2 avert their gaze and pedal madly, in defiance of the massive climb ahead, if only to focus on the simple act of thrusting deeply their hip, thigh, calf, and ankle into each bereaved stroke of their metal mount.

Three: breathe it in and savor every moment. As the hill rises, views improve and one's pulse and perception are proportionally quickened. Like a thoughtful reader pouring through tender, tedious text to find the moments of joy tucked amongst a myriad of myopicisms, this is my preferred method of ascension.

looking up

Eventually the hill ends and the biker who once thought himself a lone wolf is surrounded by a milieu of pedestrians, mostly collegiate, each of which is striving (often blindly) to reach their destination.  Few wear smiles. More often they wear headphones. Though their urbanity is unquestionable somehow the thirteen homeless people at the hill's base seem friendlier than these academics striving to block out any 'unpleasantries' of their surroundings.

The day rushes by in a flurry of pens, papers, smiles, sketches, and snacks.  Classes drag and zip according to course content.  Lounging alternates with sprinting, and in any downtime hugs and theoretical musings take precedence over thoughts of the evening's chores and other trifling matters.  But classes end and the building empties. Sidewalks overflow with the jetsam of a swollen day. Many find their friends best company for the journey home. Many more find their headphones. I however find a sturdy bike my fairest companion, and depart with the release of a song or whistle matching pace to the thrust of legs driving axle'd rubber tyres into road.  The journey home is filled with thoughts of the day past. Did I miss anything? Were my concepts strong? Did I represent Christ in my words as well as actions? Have my best days yet to come? What of my friends? Where will we end up? Will I ever find fulfillment? Will I ever find that one special pers--THE HILL!

Another big cleanup day for UC PAN on Race Street. Unrelated.

And just like that, our dear mother earth drops off in a rush of trees, clouds, asphalt and parked cars. Sitting low, streamlined against the rushing wind, our dear rider grips his handle bars and drops into his most aerodynamic stance. Screaming for joy and batting tears from his eyes, he whizzes past men, women, and scurrying creatures alike. But alas, the journey lasts far too short! That same hill which took aeons to surmount at dawn now flies by in seconds.  With bleary watering eyes our fearless rider zips through a yellow light-- maybe a little too orange for his fancy. The same homeless folk he saw this morning return his heartfelt waves and greetings of a day well-spent.  As his final destination nears he concludes that despite the trials rising to the hilltop, it was worth the challenge for the thrill of the ride home. And home he finds. In all its tattered, battered glory.  With neighbor Tom and roommate Steve there to warmly greet, the day has never seemed more peasant.  It is days like this, in their joyous cycle of rising and falling, that so tenderly embrace the peaks and pits of life itself.

And that's all I have to say about that!

Parametric Urbanism

Input: the incessant feed of raw physical and numerical data providing a foundation upon which all proper and responsive parametric design thrives. Variations of innovative data response exist all around, from the simple mechanical technology found in transition lens sunglasses to the complex algorithm of preferential and personalized data tracking that drives suggestions and network connections in such social media giants as YouTube, Google, Facebook, and LinkedIn.

Architecture is primarily a physical art aimed to provide a sturdy and socially responsive solution to shelter. At its core architecture thrives on the ability of a trained designer to ascertain the needs and requirements of his client and craft a structure to meet those needs all the while providing just the proper combination of stability, utility, and beauty. It is necessary for an architect to marry ecologically considerate forms functioning in harmony to nature with subjective beauty, as a design proposal lacking in either element will respectively be poorly responsive to its contextual or, quite frankly, just plain ugly.

Peter Eisenmann's City of Culture
ecologically considerate form or subjective beauty?

Eisenmann’s City of Culture: parametrically modeled

Granted, beauty is subjective and contextual approach is not absolute, but raw data processing (in the form of numerical analysis) is rarely undertaken during the process of design at which a building’s form is crafted in response to its physical context. Sure, it would be false to say architects do not take in a variety of numerical data. However other than the raw data of solar calculations, localized demographic analysis, and financial assessment (to name a few) architects practicing parametric architecture and parametric urbanism craft their buildings largely in a subjective process that depends more on client need and design instinct than on specific numerical analysis. However, in an age saturated with data and input of all forms, architecture is beginning to respond and inform its surroundings based on objective figures gleaned from such existing technologies as GIS (geographic information systems) and solar analysis.

So does this entail an architectural response fully responsive to numerical information gathered from digital archives and up-to-the-minute data input? Not in the least. Architects must still serve as the parametric interpreters of context to process objective/subjective data and produce a considerate response to the unique and capricious whims of vacillating and objective value-based input. Perhaps Tim Love says it best that at one end of parametric design is “gee-whiz formmaking” – that is, blobitecture, sculpture-buildings, all the frills of too-eager form giving; while at the other end of the spectrum lies “a [purely] metric-based emphasis on social and/or ecological relevance.” He calls for architects to strike a much more measured stance.

“It’s too often the case that the process of creating forms by inputting and manipulating data does not require the designer develop a nuanced and comprehensive design strategy; and the process itself can produce a spurious and easy complexity that masks the absence of that more expansive approach. In some projects, for instance, specific cultural, social, and physical contexts are deployed mainly as tactics for autonomous form making.” - Tim Love

As data coalesces and consolidates to a manageable level of processing, a vastly growing pool of “input” streams begin to emerge. Architects must now more then ever act with wisdom and discretion toward the tools and responsibilities of the profession; an architect must not be caught up on the pure pragmatics of parametric design to respond to yes/no 1/0 data inputs, neither should he be obsessed over pure form. A balanced approach is key.

The beauty of such advancement lies in parametric thinking. Certain materials and systems can react to input on the fly, whilst other more entrenched forms will likely not change over the course of their built-lifespan. Architects must act in either case to appropriately respond to long and short-term vacillations of context. Parametric tools yield a powerful method of processing data on both fronts. A well-constructed building can provide a parametric shell fully responsive in form to any aspect of its context. This form can be based on any number of processed data input streams. However, once constructed a building’s form is very unlikely to change and specific place-based material technologies come much more into play. Parametric design in this sense can be applied equally at macro and micro scales, in each case reacting as needed to any range of social, economic, formal, ecological, and material data inputs.

So what lies in store for parametric design? What does the future hold as architecture adopts the tenets of such an emerging technology? The key lies in one of architecture’s hottest metaphrases- “Yes is more.” Preached by Bjarke Ingalls of the Danish Firm BIG, “Yes is more” calls architects to embrace all inputs, and links parametric design as a viable – if not mandatory – tool in the progression of the field from simply its ability to be fully inclusive of all elements in a designer’s thought process to physically conveying them in the form and function of the building itself.

BIG's Danish Pavilion at Shanghai Expo 2010

Design process
integrates form and function

By responding to specific parameters and limitations of parametric design and by allowing buildings to respond and function in kind (adapting to shifts in climate, user location/preference, contextual keys, and input-based data response) architecture may grow to accommodate and spryly respond to the needs and ecological leads of our modern age.


WORKS CITED:
Schumacher, Patrik. "The Parametric City." The Parametric City. 2010. Web.
http://patrikschumacher.com/Texts/The%20Parametric%20City.html

Christo

My pastor in Cape Town was named Christo. He led (and as far as I know, still leads) Cape Town's CommonGround Inner City church as a warm-hearted but straight-shooting and to-the-point warrior for Christ.  During my first few weeks living in Cape Town I didn't meet a lot of Christians or "white people" in Bo-Kaap (that last term sounds incredibly racist now, but that's what people called it there!) CommonGround, a church attended primarily by "whites" from outside Bo-Kaap, was just a few blocks from my apartment and it was easy enough for me to get to church, but coming back I always felt as if I was going back into a real war zone of anti-Christianity. For all the strengths of CommonGround as an "inner-city" community of people surrendering their lives to Christ I hardly saw anyone from the church walk back and engage with the inner-city it was surrounded by.

One day while out on a morning jog through the Cape Company Gardens I reached the far south end of the park and stopped to stretch, noticing a man huffing and puffing toward my same terminal end of the path where I stood.  As he reached the end of the park and looked up, I gasped and realized it was none other than Pastor Christo himself!

Needless to say I was shocked. I thought Christo must have lived far from town and commuted in to lead the inner-city church every day. But this was not true. It turns out that Christo also lived in Bo-Kaap (very near to me in fact), and as one of the community's few Christians he was having daily interactions with Muslims - as a pastor and guide for CommonGround InnerCity, he was fully immersed in the community he pastored!

Though I have now fully moved in at my OTR apartment, I still have a lot of happy baggage around that I have been relishing and rolling around, hesitant to pack some of it away into drawers or cabinets to gather dust.  One such article of happy baggage is my sermon notes from one of Christo's most impassioned teachings, which I have paraphrased below (OK, try imagine this spoken with an Afrikaans accent as thick as Mrs. H. S. Balls Chutney):

“I recently read about an incident in a national park in America where a devastating fire cause great damage and destruction. After the fire had settled, a group of game rangers walked up the mountain to assess the damage. They were surprised to find a skeleton of a big bird in one of the trees, almost completely covered with ash. Why did this bird not fly away from the flames, they wondered. Upon closer inspection they found  three little chicks – alive under their mother’s wings, which protected them from the flames. 

Psalm 91:2-4 read as follows: 
‘I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.’ 

As a gospel centred community we are increasingly learning to find refuge under God’s wings and putting our trust in Him. Let our lives bear witness to this to our city, wherever we find ourselves. 

So what can we take from this?  As I look back at this teaching and think how Christo was just like that mother eagle taking any scorn and rejection from Muslim neighbors (although truthfully he loves them regardless of their faith). I think how Jesus, in the same way the mother eagle died to save its baby chicks, died on the cross for our sins. He gave his body as a shield for us against the world's evils and his cleansing blood set us free from the condemnation of our carnal sins.

Now how is this relevant to living in Cincinnati. This city is no more protected than Cape Town. The same evils and challenges facing Bo-Kaap threaten Over-the-Rhine as well.  But our role.  To be the vanguard of community.  To not shrink from danger and personal and spiritual threat but to stand firm and boldly to love our neighbors as Christ called us to.  To be the mother eagle for anyone helpless and innocent of the community, even if it means giving our life and the easiness of our own lifestyles.  This is what it means to be in community.

--------------------------------------------

I am not sure how to apply this, however, when the helpless victim is a man easily thirty years older than I am.  My good friend and local watchdog-downstairs Tom Banks (who always hangs his head out of his window and hams up the news with any passers-by, asking if people are safe and shoo-ing along anyone with ill intentions) was just evicted yesterday.  Tom is one of the greatest things about Over-the-Rhine.  Everything about him radiates "humanity," from the cheerful way he looks out for everyone passing by to the humble disposition he shows for strangers and friends alike.

As Over-the-Rhine is being gentrified and rent fees began to increase up last year, Tom began to be unable to pay his own rent. Skyrocketing cost-of-living expenses have finally won the battle of gentrification, and as I write this two men are carrying Tom's mattress out to the kerb, leaving him with only one blanket and the clothes on his back. I've never witnessed anything like this, and I'm not sure what to do.  Should I let him live in my apartment until the weather warms? Should I help him with means and shelter? Matthew 9:12 says "It's not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick." And as the building stock in OTR is either labeled unofficially as "abandoned" or "gentrified beyond all reason" people like Tom, who bring so much life and love to this neighborhood, are being evicted. I'm not sure how to act but I believe that Tom is going to go into shock without a home. I honestly don't know if he will make it through the year. For my part I will look out for him just as he has looked out for me...

Please pray for Tom and the people of Over-the-Rhine. I can't be their mother bird to lay my own life out and protect these guys from forces far beyond their and my own control, but I'm giving my time and willingness to God.  Whatever happens down here, He in in control.

"The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me" Matthew 25 40

Nate

The Return

SIX MONTHS LATER...

Well, a lot has happened since the Muezzin. I am no longer living in Bo-Kaap and plenty of exciting times have come and gone (though some have lingered and many others are bound to happen yet!)


Looking at all the "draft" posts I have lined up over the last two months where I told myself "hey Nate, go back and start posting again!" I dare say I haven't been the most reliable to share stories and experiences from an architectural perspective (sheesh there are at least seven strange stories I have been waiting to tell!)  BUT in the meantime Twitter has been far more reliable, timely, interactive, and - yes - slightly addictive -- @nammitt if you're into that thing.


So, unless there are any requests (Bueller? Bueller?) I'm going to make an effort to share a story every week or so. Hopefully. Starting off with this post and a fantasticly terse quote by Mr. Alan Keightley

"Once in a while it really hits people that they don't have to experience the world in the way they have been told to."

-Alan Keightley


Isaiah 6:8 "Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"


Go be bold!
Nate

Cities - the map

I love maps. Here are some I have drawn for fun recently (and edited in photoshop).

Though none of these maps depict an existing urban location, they are each influenced by a real city somewhere the world... see if you can guess which real city goes with the drawing!

built on a marsh and named in honor
of a general with wooden teeth

most of a medieval city was demolished by
an emperor to make way for a new
metropolis with wide, radial boulevards

settled by the dutch and later the british
 hint: not in the USA

every city in italy. choose your favorite.

I have been thinking about cities a lot lately. South Africa has a bizarre history of urban planning, ranging from the beautiful mountain-oriented axial layout of Cape Town to the gridded streets of Joburg, to the hilly assemblage of homes in Durban, to the mazes created for suppressing movement and assembly of Africans in many apartheid townships across the country.

I will be blogging about cities for the next few posts - what brings them together? what breaks them apart? and what role do architects have to make them better for everyone?

The city is all right. To live in one
Is to be civilized, 
Stay up and read
Or sing and dance 
All night and see sunrise
By waiting up 
instead of getting up.
—Robert Frost, A Masque of Mercy

Muezzin and Me

A local man speaks to me every day. He greets me when I get out of bed each morning, and he always has his piece of advice for me before I go to bed.  I can never understand what he says, but his words always ring loud and clear.  He and I have never been formally introduced, and no, he is not some creepy house watchman or homeless vagrant.  He is the muezzin at the local mosque, and his voice, broadcast five times each day, has been one of my good companions here in Cape Town.

Ramadan starts tomorrow morning, and I am not sure what to expect.  I know every Muslim is meant to fast from Sunrise to Sunset during this holy month, but I have also heard stories of communal potlucks and acts of charity.  For some reason I find those last two points hard to believe.  

the hilly cobble-stoned streets of the bo-kaap
bo-kaap literally means "upper cape" in afrikaans

Ramadan is Islam's holiest month, set aside as a time during which Muslims are expected to fast, and in doing so put more effort into following the teachings of Islam and avoid obscene and irreligious sights and sounds, but when I think of Christianity's "holiest month," (whether that would be Easter and Lent or December and Christmas) "charity" and "community" don't spring foremost to mind.  Maybe it's the commercialism that gets associated with both seasons, but I believe that physical restraint and service toward others are much more admirable and Christ-like characteristics than the widespread routine celebrations and Western cultural gluttony that comes during commemoration of Christian holiday seasons.  

I'm no authority on this matter, but I think that there is a lot of truth in fasting. I have only done it once but I am curious to see what effect this month of restraint and spiritual focus has on the neighborhood.

As I recently read in a national news-paper article entitled "What's the Point of Ramadan Anyway", journalist Khadija Patel offers some perspective on the matter:

Will power, psychologists say, is a lot like a muscle - it needs to be burdened before it is built, but once built, the whole body benefits. And, in my view, that is the thinking behind Ramadan. Abstaining from food and sex during the daylight hours is meant to jumpstart your ability to resist temptation through the rest of the year. This month is an acknowledgement of human beings as not merely physical creatures, it admits our physicality, but also shows we are so much more than the pleasure of our own flesh.

My neighborhood at a glance

According to City of Cape Town statistics, the Bo-Kaap neighborhood is 90% Muslim (although I speculate the other 10% are international students looking for a cheap place to crash!).  Pursuant of this religious demographic, I assumed that everyone in Bo-Kaap would be speaking Arabic. Granted, a few do. But everyone? Boy was I wrong! I have heard very little Arabic spoken besides the adhan call to prayer, as everyone here relates in the lowest common linguistic denominator- usually either English or Afrikaans.  After making a few Muslim friends here I have found within many homes intricate calligraphic posters and weavings in Arabic.  From my inquiries, these are usually Qur'anic texts that have been emblazoned on fabrics and parchments for their religious significance, but also for their graphic appeal as Islamic law prohibits depiction of the human form in art (although, to be honest, Arabic calligraphy is very beautiful).

Allow me to elaborate with some architectural perspective - Bo-Kaap is the home of Islam in South Africa. I'll try not to get the history wrong here, but from what I've learned when the Dutch settled in Cape Town many many years ago they brought along Indonesian Muslims as workers and fellow immigrants.  The Islamic community grew from this core of "Malay" immigrants in Cape Town to its current state, now with over 400 mosques in South Africa alone.  The first of these mosques is actually located just down the road from my apartment, and was constructed by an exiled Indonesian Prince in 1798.  1798! That's OLD!! (as a comparison, Cincinnati was FOUNDED in 1788, only ten years earlier). There are currently six or seven mosques in Bo-Kaap, each of which put out a call to prayer five times per day, and it is my goal to get to know more about the Muslim community here, especially as Ramadan begins. 

bo-kaap represent. i love great graffiti and there's

a ton of it here in cape town

So, what's a good way to understand this holy month from a Christian perspective? Here are a few thoughts, largely borrowed from Jim Petersen:

Be considerate

I walk through the heart of Muslim Bo-Kaap every day.  I believe that chowing down on an apple in front of fasting Muslims might more disrespectful than wearing high-heels to a midget convention (my analogy, not Jim's), so I must be aware of the people I'm with, the tenets of the belief to which they adhere, and act in kind consideration.

Be worldly (and relatable)

"I have voluntarily become a servant to any and all in order to reach a wide range of people: religious, nonreligious, meticulous moralists, loose-living immoralists . . . whoever. I didn’t take on their way of life. I kept my bearings in Christ — but I entered their world and tried to experience things from their point of view. I’ve become just about every sort of servant there is in my attempts to lead those I meet into a God-saved life."  (1 Corinthians 9:19-22, MSG) 

Relating well with Muslims may not be easy- I'll need to first confront the obstacles of my own cultural stereotypes and my own tendency to consider my ideas and ways as being the smartest approach. But this is a great growing point! I would hope to relate with people wherever I go, and Paul's advice from 1 Corinthians is a bright beacon of guidance on this matter.

Be compassionate

Beyond being kind and adaptive, I want to be action-oriented. Passively absorbing cultural traditions is important, but once I get a sense of how Ramadan works here, I want to respond to it. As Jim Petersen says,

"Love is a verb, a call to action. It calls us not only to seek to understand these neighbors but also to serve them in ways that reflect God’s love. How else will they ever see the kingdom of God?"

And that's about all I have to say for now. In doing some research for this blog post I discovered that the message of the call to prayer begins as follows:

“Get up and pray. To pray is better than to sleep.”

Architecture students don't typically get much rest so I'm cool with the whole no-sleeping thing-- but praying instead of sleeping? I wonder how that idea would go over in the US...  regardless, I look forward to what Ramadan has in store for me, my roommates, and the neighborhood.  Although not technically fasting I'm going to give up a few things that I over-rely on and try to focus more on God.  And fast or no fast, I know that the with the muezzin's voice as my companion I'm going to learn a lot.

at the intersection of buitengracht and rose streets,
the boundary of bo-kaap

"Therefore, do not let anyone judge you by what you eat or drink or with regard to a religious festival, a New Moon celebration, or a Sabbath day. These are a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality however, is found in Christ."
- Colossians 2:16-17

What makes a good community?

Reproduced from Karen Press's Closer Than This (an open source book for urban planners)

...and architects, too!

Test: would Vladimir and Estragon be willing to wait here?

Test: would a ball kicked along the road roll back backwards?

Test: would a bunch of flowers stay alive all the way home?

Test: would Charles Baudelaire walk these pavements?

Test: how long would a goldfish survive?

Test: would Frida Kahlo find enough colors?

Test: would carrots grow straight in the soil?

Test: would Nawal el Saadawi be able to relax?

Test: would a cellist be heard?

Test: would Elvis be happy here? would Fela?

Karen poses these questions under the auspices of new urban developments in Africa, but it is worth asking the same questions of existing communities and neighborhoods undergoing revitalization - both in Africa and elsewhere around the world!

Just thoughts to consider.

A poem of Bo-Kaap

From Gabeba Baderoon's Three Poems

I walk down Heerengracht,
where pigeons dip their necks
like question marks into the fountain.
Then left at Long, while the sun slips

Toward the sea and the moon takes its place
above Signal Hill.
Above me, starlings clatter
like typewriters.

Higher still, turning right at Wale,
seagulls tilt like white kites
against the wind.

I step on the old silences of the city.

Here is the place on the hill where artists came
for peace and the view of the harbour.
Below, the city reveals itself.
We still walk the neat streets of their paintings.

Under the angled mountain, its blue light,
the starlings are cold but, looking at them,
I see the loveliness
of their chaotic and coordinated hunger.

What can explain
this exact and unjust beauty?

The flock clusters at sunset for warmth and seed.
Poetry cannot be afraid of this.

Sketching the streets, the artists stood
on the burial ground of the city’s slaves.
In the paintings is something
of the private grief of their bodies.

In precise patterns the starlings follow one another
and redouble on their own flight-tracks,
slipstream of warmth,
blood-trace of the self.

Nothing to begin with,
and nothing again.

Around me, the air is thick with history.
Two hundred years ago,
slaves could no longer be sold.

Nothing, and nothing again.

I look again at the painted city, falling
silent at sunset, even the birds stilled.
In the last flash of the sun, the city gleams
white and hard as bone.

Week 2 Pictures: Pendo means Love

What do you see?

Trees as green as wild grass on a spring morning; earth as raw and red as if it was the lifeblood of the earth itself; people as passionate and personable as if they were your own brothers and sisters; metal roofs and sun-scorched bricks weathered and worn by years of use-- forget the big five and all those roadside souvenirs - this is Africa. This boundless nature is what makes Africa so special, and was in this world of vibrant life and color that I began my second week of work in Tanzania (check out some pictures below).

The week kicked off, as a week often does, at a local church on a Sunday morning.  As Jennifer and I were waiting for the service to begin she and I became the center of attention for a large group of local children. Before any songs had been sung or testimonies had been tested, the two of us came to attention for the rest of the congregation as the children called out “muzungu! muzungu!”

Fortunately this was not the first time I had heard this term used, and as my handy-dandy Swahili-to-English dictionary describes, “muzungu” literally means people who walk in circles, referring to the way in which non-Africans appear to struggle in circles as they drive aimlessly through Africa.

a herd of real-life muzungus in their natural habitat

Although we were not doing any driving in the church that day, by the time the congregation rose to sing a half-dozen Swahili songs, I certainly found myself struggling with a few new extra friends attached to my arms and legs – the little kids were clinging to my clothes like muzungu magnets!

As the service proceeded, the children hardly abated – in fact, after the preacher had summed up his stirring Swahili sermon on Paul’s chiding the Corinthians toward righteousness (Romans 3), Jennifer and I were both overwhelmed with this mass of small children, most of whom were visibly parent-less, and many of whom wanted to learn our names (and wanted us to learn their names as well). This game of name-learning and name-sharing broke out in full force once the service was dismissed, and my conversation with this score of Tanzanian kids turned into a full-blown cultural exchange of words and phrases when I busted out my trusty sketchbook and pens.

handy dandy Swahili-to-English dictionary and trusty
sketchbook. I wouldn't have gotten far without the dictionary
and I wouldn't have remembered much without the sketchbook.
both were great assets. pens not included.

Unlike Jennifer I am a visual, not an auditory learner. While she assimilated easily with the spoken Luo and Swahili, I was confronted with so much input that I turned to my good old sketchbook and handy dandy dictionary to learn the children’s names and phrases by drawing them out in my book and letting the kids write their own stories to go along with the sketches. What follows are the results of several hours of intense cross-cultural sketchbooking:

musilaba means cross

dogi means lips

rangi means red, blue, orange, and yellow?

oh wait... rangi means paint

and of course "ninja" is the same in all languages

The only thing more inspiring than the fact these kids were sketching and visualizing their culture in my sketchbook was that they were sketching and visualizing their culture in my sketchbook in a church – and in Tanzania of all places. It was an unbelievable experience to witness this after also witnessing God’s cross-cultural presence in the same building just a few hours earlier.

Back during the service as I sat listening to the head pastor's sermon, I felt God’s love in the words he was speaking… even though I couldn’t understand a single one of them! Simply listening to the passion of the testimonies, the joy of the singers, and the shouts of the performers brought me close to tears at one point. I felt God saying, “Look at all this love. How can you possibly doubt my presence in your own life when I am clearly present in the lives of these people a world away from Cincinnati.” What a revelation – and what love that God pours out on people to bring them into such a state of joy. I was blown away by this togetherness.  By seeing these Tanzanians growing together and striving to be more like Christ. Even as I write this I’m still trying to process the whole experience and come to grips with how an experience like this can be so simultaneously foreign, and yet also so incredibly relatable!

Needless to say, this church experience was the high-point of my week - maybe even the entire trip. The rest of our second week was spent much the same as the first; while working with other University of Cincinnati students, I continued taking measurements and sketches of the Roche Health Center.  I love sketching and mapping, and being able to draw and measure on site and away from the confines of studio was a nice break from typical desk-based architecture work.

hard at work at the RHC...
...Stanley Black and Decker style

the not-so-glamorous side of architecture:
as-built drawings!

Later in the week the men from our UC team got to play futbol with some of the locals (sorry, no girls allowed!) It was one of the special instances during the trip when, paradoxically, while we were fiercely competing in sports we muzungu foreigners felt more like we were on the same team with the native Tanzanians while competing together with them than if we were simply there.  Outright competition seemed more relevant and relateable than simply being there and culturally competing against them through inaction.

This brings me to a central point of my blog, which I haven’t spoken about enough, but which is crucial to life here in Africa. I haven't found a good word for the quality I'm trying to describe here, but something about the people in Tanzania (and in South Africa too, to a degree) speaks to an uncanny sense of optimism, positivity, and full-blooded life. I don’t know if there’s a word for it other than the African “CAN-do” spirit that I’ve named this blog after. Playing soccer with the local kids and experiencing the love of the local church church community brought on this feeling of hope more than just about anything I’ve experienced here so far – although in our soccer game we competed against each others, we competed together by working in teams to accomplish a goal.

futbol in Shirati

I guess I’m just a sucker for that team spirit, and I’m sure that I will revisit this un-named theme plenty more as the summer progresses.  But for now, let me leave you with one last image.

It may be idealistic, as it is something I've been thinking and dreaming about for quite some time, but I'm dreaming big for Africa.  I'm dreaming of an Africa in which every person has hope for life, a means to live their life fully, and a physical place to call home. Is that too much to hope for?  Like Abram believed God's covenant in Genesis, I want to believe that God has a great legacy in store for the people here, and great plans for all of Africa. It's a big world but it is full of hope.

And that is what I see.

-quote of the day-
"'Do not be afraid Abram.
I am your shield, your very great reward...
...Look up at the heavens and count the stars - if indeed you can count them... so shall your offspring be.'
...Abram believed the Lord and it was credited to him as righteousness"
Genesis 15: 1, 5-6