I'll make it up one day...

Saturday

I didn't sleep last night. I finally fell asleep about an hour before my wake up call came.

I kept flipping through the pages of this book that Doug has of Kibera.

What was I going to see? What was I going to do? What would be waiting for me there?

Obviously, I would not be prepared for ANYTHING that I would see there. I'm not sure what the actual definition of "slum" is as the internet is down again at the AACC... But whatever the definition is, it certainly can not do it justice. The pictures, the videos, the stories... nothing do it justice. This is just one of the those things that you must see to believe.

Steve and Edward picked us up this morning, right on time (as always) and we set off to go the bank (to change some money in) and to pay our armed escort. Now before I go on... remember when I said that there was a LOT of corruption here?

I'll give you two guesses who didn't show up to escort us through Kibera.....

Anyway... we ran our errands and headed off to Kibera to meet up with Amos and Dalmas who were waiting at the church. Dalmas is an incredibly smart, educated man who has a total heart for the people of Kibera.

So, we start to drive through the slum. Everywhere you look there are these small shops/houses made of clay. I actually watched a man working on one. They use sticks and branches from trees as re-bar, then pat mud and clay onto the sticks and let it dry. Cover the roof with a sheet of aluminum and leave the floor uncovered and you've got yourself a nice little structure on the land.

You're so busy looking at all the people.. a lot of them crippled, begging for money, that you don't notice the smell. Not until you look on the side of the road (which is one American lane wide) to see the piles and PILES of trash that you realize it smells eerily like a port-a-potty on a busy construction site. Just fowl.

Here is the road that they walk on (a lot of them barefoot everyday.) It's COVERED with trash, burning trash, and poopie. Simply disgusting:

I happened to have my window down, and most everyone that we passed would speak. The woman would say: "Jambo", Swahili for "Hallo" (as they say it) or "How are you" (they're used the same here), the men would say: "Karibu" which means "Welcome", and the children would run around saying (in unison) "How are you" over and over again. It went something like this: How are you? How are you? How are you? How are you? How are you?

Get the picture?

We finally pulled over, and got out of the truck. Now, let me remind you that our AK-47 wielding escort did not show up. I put my leg out of the truck and set it on the ground... into a pile of dookie. Human? Animal? I'll never know.

As soon as both feet touched the ground, the truck was rushed by people who started grabbing all of our bags, including my gear! I thought "For real? Is Wayne Brady gonna hafta..." well, you know the rest...

The guys laughed at the panic on my face. See, these people were so excited about me being there that they wanted to have the honor of carrying my gear. Crazy! They would run around me calling me "Mwembamba" and "Mbwa Mkubwa", the first literally means "Slim" (they use a different words for 'Skinny', 'Thin' and 'Slim'), the second means "Big Dog" although some later started calling me "Mbwa Kali" which means FIERCE Dog.. haha....

We walked a short ways to the church, the NCOC - Nairobi Christian Outreach Centre. This church was in much better shape than George's... strange, considering George's church is in a MUCH better part of town.

They had a "brief" committee meeting (2.5 hours isn't very 'brief' to me!) and then opened the doors. A flood of widows and orphans filled the room. I didn't know that they were coming in, nor was I ready for them even if I HAD known. They pushed their way through to see the white Americans there and to hear what they had to say.

Doug and Amos spoke briefly about Micro-Financing, to see what they thought about it. Overall, it was a pretty good response, although some people still feel as if they should just get hand-outs. I got some good shots of the people... did my best to capture the moment.

After they spoke to all of the widows about micro-lending, they left and the orphans moved to the front.

There is an estimated 100,000 orphans in Kibera (remember, the size of Central Park, NY), though only 50 or so were at the church.

They didn't know what to think of Mwembamba at first. They were really confused and didn't like me sticking cameras in their faces... by the end it looked more like this:

The kids lightened up when I flipped my viewfinder so that they could see themselves as I filmed. I would take still pictures with the camera and show those to them as well. Most had never really seen that before.

See, most of the adults living in Kibera moved there when they were older. So they know of the world outside of Kibera. However, nearly ALL of the children were born there and don't know that anything else exists!

I fell in love with these kids. I fear for ever bringing Laura (or "Jua" as they call her here... Yes, she's already famous over here as the wife-to-be of the Mbwa Mkubwa!) as she will surely think of the most creative ways to sneak all of these lil' fiffers back to the states!

Shortly, they returned the love. They would come running to me to speak to me in Swahili, although I couldn't understand a word that they were saying, I would just laugh when they laughed and I seemed to get by alright!

Here are some of my new best friends:

Trying to leave was crazy! We left after meeting with an AIDs/HIV group there, to try to get them some help and work (nobody hires HIV positive people here.) As soon as I stepped out of the church and back onto the streets of Kibera, I was rushed by these kids:

They grabbed my shirt and my pants and tried to keep me from leaving, of course screaming "How are you? How are you? How are you? How are you?" over and over again. Edward ended up chasing them all off of me (REEEALLY funny, if you know Edward... he's not really the 'scary' type!)

We headed back to the truck and hit the road again, we were still smothered with: "Karibu's", "Jambo's" and "How are you's".

Back to the hotel, then out to lunch/dinner (at like 4pm, local) where I had this Cajun Chicken Burger... AMAZING! I said that I wouldn't eat the local food, but it's so hard not to! It's some of the best food I've ever eaten!

Back again to the AACC where I let Dougie B use the computer, since he hasn't been able to connect since we got here. I did a new magic routine that I call 'My Bleeding Heart', where I fuse 4 or 5 tricks together using the same cards, to utterly BLOW THE MINDS of the staff. A couple of them screamed and ran! It was awesome.

Later I showed them how a to do a "French Drop" (coin vanish) using a Kenya Shilling (Ksh, thier currancy) and a trick using a palming technique. That was like 3 hours ago, and they're STILL in the lobby (where I am) practicing and laughing.

I tried to get nap since I didn't sleep last night... couldn't... so I turned on the ol' boob tube and much to my surprise freakin' "Edward Scissorhands" was on! "Booyah!" I quietly said to myself.

Finished the Johnny Depp classic, then headed back to the lobby to try to get Internet again. No luck.

Oh well... it's 2 o'clock in the PM where you are... which means I should probably try to sleep again.

I miss youse guyses. Especially my sweet babe and precious Dude. I should've hugged her longer at the airport... and now that I think about it, I kind of wish my last words to her before boarding the plane weren't "Take care of my dog! Okaybye!"

I'll make it up one day....

S

At last... day one...

Friday

I woke up earlier than 7:15, this morning... not by much... but earlier. I grabbed a shower, some clothes, and sat down to read some through the book of Acts. The bible can be confusing sometimes (read MOST of the time...)

I then stepped out of my room to find it a nice, crisp 65F.... very nice. Off to meet with a fella named Alvin, about MFI's (Micro-Financing Institutions), MED's (Micro-Enterprise Developments), and breakfast... (which for me consisted of COMPLETLY recognizable fruits.... you know... to be safe)

After a sickiningly long meeting, we headed to the airport to pick up the prodigal luggage.

After heading back to the airport to pick up Dougie B's missing luggage from Customs, we stopped by two areas very close to each other, "Pipeline" and "Quarry", to meet Pastor George, who pastors "Glory of Christ Centre" in the Quarry area.

Both of these areas used to be slums, but have evidently moved up in the world. This was my first expiernce with REAL povirty. I couldn't get the pictures that I wanted to get, as our escort wasn't with us. It's safest when in the slums, or really anywhere else around, if I don't keep my equipment in front of everyones eyes.

I also had my first run-in with Maasai Warrior, from the Maasai tribe, a nomadic tribe (one of 7 nomadic tribes of the 42 tribes in the area.) the Maasai are one of the only tribes left that maintain their heritage and culture. Everywhere you go, you will see them in their traditional coverings. The Maasai feel that they should be compensated for any pictures or videos that are taken of them, their belongings, or their land. They don't take kindly to tourists with clicking cameras and no money to give them. I'd like to get a good picture of one of the Maasai, but I need to wait until our escort is with us... If a Maasai Warrior gets pissed at me, I think I'll be a little bit more comfortable with an AK-47 on my side!!

Anyway... it was just terrible there. If this ISN'T a slum, I'm not looking forward to shooting tomorrow!

Later, we picked up Edward.

Edward is on the "Help the Least of These" commitee, the 'bean counter' as my trip mate has called him about 30 times.

Edward is a smart guy. Accountant by trade, youth pastor by passion. He's married, with one small baby.

We drove around looking for a bank that was open (banks here close at 3pm) whilst Steve and I tried to find a place to park. You'd think that'd be easy...

Check this out... since we've been here, I have YET to see A stop sign, or A stop light. Because there are none. There is also no such thing as "Right of Way" it is EVERY MAN FOR THEMSLEVES on the road out here. I've got a few VERY shaky videos that I'll try to up load. Laura, you'd HATE riding in the car here! Come to think of it, your mom might hate it worse!!

So, anyway... after we found the bank and a parking spot, we headed off to Trattoria, Dougie B's favorite African Italian joint.

Trattoria Restaurante - Pizza, Sea Food, Piano Bar
Definitely some of the best food I ever ate!! The service was rather strange... this was the first meal that I've eaten since the plane. I had some pineapple and bananas... So, this was a MUCH needed meal! After the weird service, where I found out that you can't order Diet Coke... why? Becuase it doesn't exist here. They have: Coca-Cola Light. It's actually about a thousand times better than diet coke, and comes in a 300ml glass bottle, with a non-twist-off top. Good times.

After the dinner, which cost just over 3800 Ksh (roughly $55, which fed 4 VERY hungry men and still had enough to feed to or three more left over,) we got the check which was printed on a full 8 1/2 x 11 sheet of triplicate carbon paper. We (Doug and I) were trying to figure out the tip for this diner, when our dinner mates, Steve and Edward explained that you don't tip in Africa.

Say what!?!

They said that the only people that tip are Americans pretty much, and in some industries it's actually disrespectful... which explains the dirty look from the "bell-hop" at the Guesthouse when I handed him a $1 for taking my bags to my room. Go figure.

Had a piece of their (what they call) pizza. It was pretty good actually. Nothing like REAL pizza... but pretty good. However, I didn't see ANYTHING on the whole menue (which was all leather, by the way) that had anything to do with seafood, nor was there a piano there.

Can someone say "false advertising?"

It's about 2:30pm, your time. 9:30pm "my" time. I'm sure that you're all at work, working hard... or not. As for me, I'm getting ampped for the first day of shooting tomorrow at 9:00am.

Wish me luck!

I love you and miss you all...

S

The AACC Guesthouse

We were picked up at the airport by Pastor Amos and Randal (one of Steve's drivers... you'll learn more about Steve later.) They took us on the 20 minute drive to the AACC (All-African Conferance of Churches) Guesthouse, where we're staying.

I had seen a few pictures of Pastor Amos, who always has this goofy look on his face. I would always think to myself "Man, that dudes got a goofy look on his face." Well, I found out why... homeboy's goofier than old school white Jim Murphy, but able to become quite serious, when needed. Every bit just like I imagined him.

Pastor Amos

I then took a short tour of the place. Here's the building from the outside... don't let the pictures fool it... it's better than it looks..

Milk, anyone?

I then dropped off my bags and went back to the 'lobby' to meet back up with the guys.

Steve, our transport, who is the owner of Belkin Safari Adventures and on the commitee here for "Help the Least of These" later arrived. Steve's a good man. He runs a good business and makes a decent living doing it. He's an INCREDIBLE driver... which I found out was DESPERATLEY needed!

Steve... scary lookin' dude, huh!?!

We discussed what the plans would be for the next morning... then off to bed we went.

I, as usual, had a hard time trying to get to sleep. So I flipped on the tube, caught an episode of "Friends" (coincedntly, the SAME episode I watched just before I left the sates... "Smelly cat, smelly cat... what are they feeding you!?!), sorted my clothes, packed up my bag full of camera equipment and magic tricks, and ate a healthy beef jerky dinner.

I finally got sleepy at about 2am (8pm Ft. Myers time)... and got a few hours rest before having to wake up at 7:15 (local)... ready for my first full day in A-Freak-Ah!

Average, everyday, normal-looking people

Not to speak badly of this fantastic nation (which has truly been FANTASTIC) but there are quite a few things that are rather corrupt. My first expeiernce of course was at the airport, as I entered the country.

See, if you're used to traveling the world (as I am.... not.) you know that to step onto another country's soil, you've gotta have a Visa (not the credit card... which was good... my credit sucks...), enter Kenya Customs. We arrived at Jomo Kenyatta Airport right on time, around 7ishpm (local time) and had to go straight the 'Visa Office' which was not an office, actually. It was a room about 2.5 times the size of my living room (including the dining area) filled with tons of people from all around the world.

Behind the desks were VERY well-dressed young men. Evidently suits are the typical daily attire for EVERYTHING. I mean these brothers look sharp just taking out the trash. Normally everyone that you see is in a suit and tie. (even the folks in the slums, as I later found out...)

There's a HUGE sign above the desk that says: "You MUST ask for a reciept stating your FULL NAME and AMOUNT PAID!" Evidently, if you don't ask for a receipt, Kenya will never see the $100 it costs to get your Visa. That's right... if there's no receipt, there's no record. The VERY well-dressed young man just pockets your cash.

We got our Visas, and headed downstairs to baggage claim and customs. What I saw when I got down there, I did not expect.

First, all of the passengers bags were THROWN all over the floor. As they came around on the conveyor, people just grabbed the bags and tossed them, to get them out of their way to get their bags.

As people flooded to get their bags, many people were struck with a small degree of grief as they came to realize that their bags were missing. When the line of 30 people, or so, formed behind the counter, one-by-one they reported their bag missing. They were evidently "left behind in Amsterdam." How does that happen? 30 bags left? Coincedently, these were all bags full of laptops, jewelery, cell phones, cameras, etc... hmmmmm... later I was informed that when the good folks at the Kenyan airport scan the bags, they grab valuables out of them before returning them to the owner the next couple days.

How all of my gear made it is beyond me. Thank God, though!

Next there was customs. Again, more VERY well-dressed older men of GREAT size and stature. These men were very scarred on their hands, faces, and heads. They looked like the African Mofia... a little bit scary, actually.

I watched as they randomly grabbed people to search them. You would think that they would have to search EVERYONE coming into the country. Nope. Actually, average, everyday, normal-looking people litterally WALKED through with ALL of them looking at them... never questioned... never touched.

HOWEVER, rich-looking people and REALLY poor, rundown-looking people were stopped and hassled. I watched them take things out of bags (confiscate, they called it) push people around, and even striking this one man with a baton. As I walked towards customs, I figured I was in for a some hassle. I mean, come on... a white dude of my size, stature, and good looks... it was over!

Well as I walked up, I stopped to put my bags on the counter to be searched, so that the hassling could commence, and they just waved me into their country... never questioned... never touched.

Evidently I'm one of those average, everyday, normal-looking people.

"Any minute now..."

So, yeah... on a 9 hour flight from D-Town to Amsterdam... yay.

I got a row of two seats to myself which was pretty pimp! The seats were decked out with little TVs that had videos, music, and movies on demand....

I ended up watching "Distrubia" and "Blades of Glory" on that trip. The later was HYSTERICAL!

I ate some really crappy chicken, which you will find out in the new post that it gave me some VICIOUS bubble-gut, that I think The Dude would've turned away.

"Any minute now..." became my little motto, although I didn't think I would ever end up using it as much as I did!

See, as I boarded the plane headed for Europe, I chewed me up a fistful of Unisom (actually, it was Wal-Som, because I'm cheap like that) so that I could just sleep through the 9 hour flight...

I felt myself getting light-headed... awesome... "I'm gonna get some sleep!" I thought. I sat there as the words: "Any minute now" started running around in my head. "Any minute now I'm gonna doze off." I says to myself.

I finally started to sleep when today's NEW character, Hansen (Spelled like the boy band, but pronounced "Hanz Zen,") decided that he wanted to kick the back of my chair... yeah... my thoughts exactly.

I kept nodding off and Hansen would kick my chair some more and wake me. Evidently, he didn't like how much I was moving around in my chair. I found out after the 3rd time he kicked my chair as he said "Sit still tub!!"

"Hmmm..." I thought "Any minute now, Imma lay a hurtin' on this dutch punk!", luckily, God gave a me peace about it.

The rest of the plane later realized how much of an impatient man Hansen was as he proceeded to yell, yes YELL, at the crew and the passengers ahead of him as we tried to exit the plane. He stood there yelling "Let's move it then, horses! One fat foot in front of the fat other..." it was pretty crazy....

I was able to get a couple cool pictures. Laura's camera does GREAT on planes, evidently.

Brad, you might enjoy these two. On the way to Amsterdam, we had to fly over God's greatest creation: Ireland. Or as the Dutch spell it, Irlande (someone should tell them that they put the 'e' in the wrong place...)

You can't see any land, but you can definitely see the view of Ireland from Heaven.

(it's sideways... but you get the idea)

I took some other pictures over Amsterdam, and thought about posting those, but then I realized that any shot that I took from the plane looked just like the other ones... so... go back and look at the picture of Detroit, and pretend that I said it was Amsterdam...

Close to the time we landed... the condintion of my bubble-gut worsend... a code red! I knew I shouldn't have eataen that Amsterdamish chicken!!

My stomach growled and churned... my motto came in handy... any minute now, we're gonna have a problem! But to my surprise... I just had gas. Good times. I knew it was good to eat that Amsterdamish chicken!!

All our flights were on time, and we made it to Kenya close to 7pm, local time.

I wasn't quite prepared for what I'd see next........

Trail mix? Red Box? Pringles?

It's a quarter 'til noon, local time (4:45am for you guys) and I'm FINALLY able to get to the Internet.

Dougie B got his luggage "lost" on account of him having multiple cell phones and laptops in his suitcase. I'll talk more on the corruption at the airport in a later post. But as I kept the laptop in my carry-on, nothing of mine was tampered with. I'm still not sure how all of my bags made it here safely... evidently, they didn't noticed the $8,000 worth of video equipment in my bags... they must have overlooked the beef jerky that Momma Mack packed me in my "Africa Survival Kit" either... lucky for me... as that was my dinner last night while watching "Friends".... sadly I get more American TV stations here than I do back home... ::shakes fist:: "DANG YOU BASIC CABLE!!!!"

Anyway... since I had the laptop with me, I was still able to write for my blog.

Here's the one from the first day of the trip:

Trail mix? Red Box? Pringles?
Whatever happened to peanuts on the plane?

It's 8 o'clock on Wednesday night, Ft. Myers times, of course. What better to do while on a A330 Airbus headed to Amsterdam, than to type up your next blog, while listening to the soundtrack to "Batman Begins" ? (courtesy of Mr. Joy Saquing... whether he knows it or not...)

I had an interesting flight from home to Detroit, or as my peeps there call it: "DDDDD-Town!"

Why was it interesting? Well... remember how I was REEEALLY fat when I left home earlier today? Yeah.. we'll, I'm still pretty much fat. Doug, bless his heart, took it upon himself to arrange the seats around me to be empty... for multiple reasons:

1.) He knew that I was going to be doing a lot of typing, and storyboarding for the upcoming videos on the plane, and of course wanted me to have enough room.

2.) He know that the odds of me being REEEALLY skinny by the time we left for our journey, were pretty slim (please... excuse the pun). Needless-to-say, he wanted my flight experience to be as FGA as possible.

3.) I got nothing...

Not to metioin the pat-down and search that I recieved trying to leave Ft. Myers... I'd go into details... but it's a part of my life that I'm trying to forget... besides... what happens in US Customs, STAYS in US Customs....

Here's the run down. While on the 3 hour flight from the Myers to DDDD-Town(!), we were pleasantly surprised to find that another flight had been canceled and the attendees needed to get on our plane. And of course, our flight was now PACKED to the gills.

Well, long story short... I guy walked up and proudly proclaimed: "Sittin' wit da BIG DAWG!!"
This is probably more amusing when you find out that I tend to call myself the "Big Dawg" on a regular basis.

For some reason, his name has COMPLETELY completely vanished from me. (Who's the magician now, tubby!?!)

Anyway, Doug and I talked to "Mr. X" for a good long while. Got to hear some of his story. X is from Kentucky. He is 36 years old and got divorced, just a little wile back, from his wife of 11 years. He has a 13 year boy who wants his ears pierced in the worst way. And a 10 year old girl, who already hates men. Sadly, X is no longer married, and flew down to spend some time with this girl who turned out to be not what he needed... good call...

At roughly 3:47pm (20 minutes after our flight took off, I learned another fun fact about X: dude can SLEEP hardcore on a tiny plane where he's scrunched up by the fat guy.

After a couple attempts to capture his picture without waking him up, I was able to do so:

Here, also, are some pictures from the inside of the outside.

For some reason, the guys weren't too hip to my "Those people look like ants" comment while were still on the ground. They were all "Um.. we haven't left yet!"

Really?

Who knew?

Here's the wing of the plane, in case you wondering what it looked like.

Here's X asleep... again:

Ever wanted to see Detroit? Yep.. in all it's glory. If you look closely, you can see Eminnem walking down 8 mile. "Everybody in the 313.....)

After three hours we finally made it to D-Town.

Soon thereafter Doug and I were on the sprint of our lives (imagine that... the Big Dawg sprinting!!!) Luckily, we made our connection flight on time.

Amsterdam, here we come!!

I thought change was a coin...

Change? What does that even mean!!?!!

I like Webster's very first definition of the word: "to make radically different (see also TRANSFORM)." For those of us who work in the 'church' for a living, would typically follow that with: "That'll preach!!"

Webster goes on to say:

1 c : to give a different position, course, or direction to
2 a : to replace with another
b : to make a shift from one to another
d : to undergo a modification
1 : to become different
5 : to undergo transformation, transition, or substitution
6 : to put on different clothes

See... I thought change was a coin, a nickel or a dime. (-Alathea)

What does it mean to 'change the world?' I mean THE WORLD!! Does anyone have any clue just how big the world is? Let me give you an idea...

According to the the US Census Bureau (2006):

In South West Florida, where I live, there are 1.1 Million people. In numerical form, it looks something like this: 1,100,000 people. That's a lot of zeros.

In the state of Florida, coincidentally where SWFL is located, there are 18,089,888 people. Interesting... lot's of 8's now...

In the great country of the United States of America there are over THREE-HUNDRED MILLION people.

And according to the Central Intelligence Agency of the USA, as of July 2007 there are 6.6 BILLION people in the world. 6,602,224,175 to be more specific.

I wonder what it would take to CHANGE them (see again the definition above.)

What could be done to RADICALLY transform them. Transform their lives? Their actions? Their thoughts? Their speech even?

I often think about this. How could I, just one random guy with no REAL talents (outside of being able to fake having real talents really well..) change the world? I suck at talking. I'm not rich. I'm not powerful. I'm not strong. I've got bad hair, and can barely read on a 4th grade level. What can I do the CHANGE the world?

Well... the answer is: nothing.

Pretty anti-climactic, huh?

Before I go any further, let me explain a few things.

My name is Slim. Slim Gillian, to be more precise. I live in a small house, in a small town, in a small state. I live with a small thought process, small dreams and small faith.

I wake up in the morning (and neglect to thank God for allowing me to live just one more day,) I make some breakfast and then usually eat said breakfast.

I go to work at Summit Church, where I complain about my work load and about how much my co-workers disrespect what I do (and neglect to thank God for giving me a means to make decent money and live.)

Once I get pissed off enough at my job I drive home in my nice car, a deep red Chrysler Concorde LXI, completely decked-out... all leather, power EVERYTHING, which was GIVEN to me, because of my 'work and dedication' to God (and neglect to thank God for giving me a means of transportation.)

I get home to my wife-to-be, Laura, and my punk-rock dog, Dude, just to be a jerk to both of them (and neglect to thank God for such an AMAZING woman, and such a punk-rock dog.)

Long story short: I'm a jackass. Not like the "Ohhh!! You said the 'A-S-S' word... I'm telling!" kind of way... more of the "It's a Donkey... get away with saying it on ACME cartoons kind of way..." (please... don't tell my mommy...)

So... I suppose now the question can be more refined: What can a jackass do to change the world?

As you could imagine, the answer is the same.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

In just over 24 hours, I will be boarding a plane headed towards a 12 day journey. A journey that I hope will be life changing... not just for the people that I'm going to see and work with, but for myself.

I head to a slum (Kibera) inside the city of Nairobi, which is in Kenya, which is in Africa... or as I like to call it: A-Freak-ah. "It's this whole other country..." (-Forrest Gump)

For the next, almost, two weeks I will be living, eating, breathing, laughing, and crying with the people of Kibera.

Know how big an acre is? Think about an acre. Mmmmm... nice acre...

Now think about 843 of them in a circular-type layout.

Congratulations, you've just imagined Central Park, NY. Stay with me now...

Imagine Central Park, NY... add some housing structures, made of clay a sticks. Make sure that you didn't imagine running water or plumbing. Throw in armed government officials to make sure you "stay in line."

Congratulations, you've just imagined a slum.

One last thing... imagine that slum... the size of Central Park, NY... a mere 843 acres... with 1.1 million people living (and dieing) in it.

Number sound familiar? That's right... the same amount of people that live in the ENTIRETY of SWFL (Naples, Bonita, Ft. Myers, Cape Coral, Marco, Sanibel, Lehigh, LaBelle, and every other city that I'm forgetting) inhabit a slum the size of Central Park.

Congratulations, you've just imagined Kibera.

Now, what could one guy do to change JUST Kibera? Sadly, nothing.

One would imagine that the question would need to be changed to render a positive response. So... with that in mind: How could God USE someone (especially some no name guy with bad reading skills) to change Kibera, Central Park, Africa, Florida... the world?

What could God do to use some guy to reach EVERY man, woman and child?

The answer: everything.

I started walking with God a year and a half ago. I stopped walking with him, and went into more of a slow crawl about 6 months ago.

I used to have many people holding me accountable to my actions. Many people holding me to a higher standard of living.

Now... not so much.

Not that I blame them... but without at least a small degree of accountably in your life, you are destined to fail. I believe it was bible that said that life couldn't be done by yourself, and that we're meant to lift each other up in spirit and in prayer.

What's the purpose of this blog, (and more importantly this RIDICULOUSLY long post) you ask?

My hope is that perhaps one person out there will be able to read these posts, and watch as God does some AMAZING things in my life... as I expand my thoughts and start to walk with Christ once again.

And perhaps that person can 'check me' on my sprititual walk.

I love you all... wish me luck in this new journey: One man's journey... to change the world. One small thinking, bad haired jackass (in the ACME kind of way) kinda guy at a time.

I used to think change was a coin... a nickel or a dime...

SLIM