I MISS COFFE IN KIGALI

My family is traveling in the U.S. It has been a pleasant change of venue, but we miss Kigali. In fact, this past weekend I’ve come to the conclusion that what I miss most about Kigali is mid day coffee breaks. We had a startling realization this past weekend. It may be a rather small realization in the big picture of Rwanda’s development, but something absolutely out of the ordinary is happening in bars, restaurants, and coffee shops in Kigali. People from many different backgrounds are enjoying one another’s friendship. I don’t know how many of us are enjoying new friendships. In a country of 8 million it must be statistically insignificant. My educated guess would assume our Kigali networking over coffee can not be done by more than a few thousand people. However, in the world of networking and partnership forming quite possibly our friendships formed over coffee maybe the most influential and underreported development in town.

This past Saturday, Jana and I had a few hour respite from travel and reporting, and decided to enjoy a movie. As we were leaving the theatre and wandering through a shopping mall I noticed a disturbing social phenomenon. People in America socially cluster by race. The Jim Crow south is long dead. No drinking fountains or toilets have race instructions. The public spaces are truly public. Anyone can go anywhere. Yet in the midst of great legislated egalitarianism it seems many are most comfortable in defacto apartheid. Asians socialize with Asians. African-Americans socialize with African-Americans. Hispanics socialize with Hispanics. European Americans socialize with European Americans. The clusters were rigid in their social circles. I kept watching for a break in their cluster. Surely someone went to work, church, or health club with someone from another race; and formed a friendship. Surely, someone asked a co-worker and spouse from a different race to share a movie or meal with their spouses. However, I saw not a single mixed race social cluster.

On Sunday, I spoke at a church where I long ago gave up any hope for social racial mixing. In fact, I with great pastoral reservation have accepted the adage that Sunday church time is the most racially segregated hour in America. Afterwards, it was Father’s Day; and my family treated me to lunch at a restaurant. I watched family after family enter the restaurant, meet a few friends, and be seated. The restaurant was a bastion of the American suburban middle class. Surely, in a suburb of educated upwardly mobile families the racial social divide would be bridged. Yet, my premise continued. The social clusters were all racially pure. Did anyone have a friendship they treasured enough that they two families from different races would share Father’s Day together? I saw not a single one. In fact, my own racially mixed family was the only one I saw seated.

Since the weekend, I’ve asked a few friends are my observations correct? Do Americans only socialize with their racial peers? At this point, the answers are embarrassingly consistent. It is impossible to legislate friendship. A few venture into the realm of social mixing. Some regions of America are more accommodating than others. However, we generally cluster with similar people.

I miss Kigali Coffee. I enjoy going out with my spouse, children, and good friends; and then seeing the magical happen. It all seemed rather mundane until I spent a weekend in America. It happens in Kigali without fail. My racially mixed social cluster notices a friend or is noticed. Some one rises from their seat and greets another. In fact, our seating is not rigid. Maybe, we’ll see an opportunity to connect with someone we have not seen in a few weeks, and we’ll move. We may ask a friend to join us. Our friendships are not based on race, but common experience and interest. Kigali Coffee is the environment where my eclectic friend gathering feels most at home. To be perfectly honest, I rarely see race. It just doesn’t hit my social radar. I had to be in America to realize how truly out of the ordinary Kigali Coffee is in the world of defacto apartheid.

Others have seen it quicker than me. Last month, was Jana’s 40^th Birthday. My oldest daughter, Sophia and I pulled off what most thought was impossible. We threw a surprise party for Jana without any of her social planning. We would have been dead in the water without a few gracious friends’ help. When it came time to create our guest list we did the simplest thing we knew. We went through our list of contacts on our mobile phones and most frequent recipients in our e-mail inbox and invited our best friends to share a surprise party with us. As the party happened our guests were our eclectic mix of friends. Some were like me – evangelical missionaries from America, but I find people just like me to be rather dull. Others came from other walks - embassies, n.g.o. workers, and the international community. Many were Rwandan friends we’ve made as we walked government offices, taught at universities, or just met in Kigali’s social gatherings. A couple remarked as they left our home that had rarely been at such a diverse gathering. Another remarked that the friendships in our home that day could not have happened in the “old Rwanda.” Something new is happening. We’re being transformed by Kigali Coffee.

Though some may see me as a wise and kind pastor, I have a painful truth to share. I’ve been controversial most of my career. One of the consistent criticisms has been my choice of friends. I have too many atheist friends and also too many Balokole. I have too many friends in media and politics. I have too many refugee friends. I have too many friends who have hit glass ceilings caused by gender or ethnic prejudice. I have too many Congolese, Kenyan, Ugandan and Zimbabwean friends. I have too many Bazungu friends, particularly British and Americans. In Rwanda I’ve been told my friendships are too based on ethnicity or origin, but the accusations shift so much I can’t determine what is the real criticism. Religiously, I have too many Muslim, Episcopal, and Charismatic friends. I have too many friends who struggle with addictions, and too many who are crusaders seeking social justice. I have too many friends who come from the upper classes. I also have too many friends who are orphans and widows. I have too many friends who speak their mind and too many friends who guard their thoughts. I have too many friends who are young and too many who are old. Do you see my critique’s point? I have too many friends, and they are too human. Friendship and humanity are troubling to those whose comfort zone is defacto apartheid.

However, this unrelenting criticism puts me in the same category of a Jewish carpenter turned itinerant preacher 2,000 years ago named Jesus of Nazareth. His critics also chose to focus on his choice of friends when they grew weary of losing philosophic arguments. Attacking a man’s friends seems to be one of the last steps of attack when reason and fact are laid against foolishness and gossip.

My pastoral mentor named Jesus chose to make parties his favorite ministry activity. In fact, when we strip his words from their religious babble they basically are doing little more than inviting potential celebrants to a party with a purpose. He chose to make his first creation contradiction changing simple water to wine so the party could continue.

Today, I think he may change the details a bit; but the message and method would remain the same. I suspect he’d walk Kigali’s streets, and decide it was time to brew a great cup of coffee. He’d gather all who wanted to listen to a good joke and ponder possible solutions. He’d make friends with an eclectic mix. I think he’d find coffee in Kigali delightful. In the process of sharing coffee with those who desired his friendship I believe he would set in motion a world changing series of events. Friendship can not be legislated, but it has more ability to change the world than the UN will ever muster.

Can you smell the coffee? It’s delightful. Come run with me.