WAITING TO BE SAVED | February 15th 2008

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Kenya attracts the most dedicated Evangelicals, observes Misha Mintz-Roth. The demand for churches seems to be unquenchable. But as Christianity meets local custom, what emerges is rather unique ...

Special to MORE INTELLIGENT LIFE

Western Christian missionaries have been peddling their wares in East Africa for centuries. Although Kenya is 80% Christian, the religion's mix with local culture has brought about a curious sort of Christianity. Locals absorb the message of salvation, but pray at Mt Kenya for a good harvest and the cleansing of curses. Some view this as a warping of Christianity. But evangelists find it tempting.

In 2007 there were over 6,000 separate churches in Kenya, and 2,000 more waiting for registration. Christian messages are ubiquitous, yet often oddly placed. Matatus, the reckless passenger vans with dents and missing mirrors, bear "Jesus loves you" in fresh paint; sheds advertising "Maximum Miracles" look for drunkards who slip out from the tavern next door. And locals cheerfully accept the white man's deity, but are less keen on his Mea Culpa inculcations.

Western tolerance for Kenya's inculturation of the doctrine has grown over time. In the 19th century missions added few converts and even fewer clergy. Priests eventually changed their expectations, welcoming hordes of local converts without much religious education. Kenyans are Anglican, Pentecostal and Catholic, but many are classified as independent, mixing Protestantism with indigenous customs. Evangelicals are often left turning a blind eye. For example, mission funds often end up in the hands of the local clergies' relatives--a respectful gesture for tribesmen, but backwards to churchmen. "Missionaries prioritise either the community or the religion", a Catholic missionary explained to me.

Missions are expanding in cities and slums, and pursuing fringe populations such as the Maasai and northern nomads. The demand for salvation has created its own economy. Anglican Bishops appear on Nairobi's city council payroll, and Kenya's government (never one to miss a financial opportunity) has raised prices on permits for religious groups. T.D. Jakes, an American televangelist and businessman, drew 1m people to Nairobi's Uhuru Park to lead services. Supposedly no cameras were allowed, but vendors selling his T-shirt roamed freely.  

Every Sunday a priest from New York leads services at Kibera's Christ the King Catholic Church. He relies on sub-parishes and locals to spread the faith to the million-plus slum residents. In Kibera's Laini Saba (District Seven) the mission is building a new sanctuary to seat 2,000, and offers medical and self-help programs to locals suffering from alcoholism and AIDS.

With missions offering services and support, it is somewhat strange that most Kenyans pray in shabby huts instead. But locals remain sceptical of foreign missionaries, presuming they only want their land and cattle. Elders often only trust tribesmen, and criminals are typically banned from big churches. Yet the message of salvation in Christ has taken hold here, spreading faster than missionaries can handle.

A few muddy alleys away from the Catholic Church stands a shed where drums beat above shouting voices and banging metal, while the pastor pleads for collections from his haggard worshippers, mostly women and children. "Some of you are not real members of this church," he insists. "God knows who has money in their pockets." The tithe is God's gift to frauds, as thousands of self-appointed clergy scatter around Nairobi and Rift Valley promising miracles for money. Sadly, many Kenyans heartily subscribe.

Missionaries are not the only ones interested in keeping Kenya Christian: the international community also enlists Christ to further Kenya's stability. Colonial governments funded missionaries to ease tribal tensions. Western governments support them to battle the spread of Muslim extremists. The US government counts hundreds of international Christian groups as development partners. Of the 9,000 Americans in Kenya, two-thirds are missionaries and their families.

Church leaders meddled in December's general elections, using their clout to ask Kenyans to rise above ethnic and regional divisions. Leaders from the National Council of Churches in Kenya spoke out repeatedly against Daniel Arap Moi, Kenya's former president and a poor advocate of democracy. But, as this election shows, Kenyans rarely take churchmen's political entreaties to heart. To be sure, tribal elders and sugar prices still stand in high authority. Religion is for the afterlife.

(Misha Mintz-Roth writes about politics, culture and development in East Africa. Formerly with Bear Stearns and Dyer and Blair Investment Bank in Kenya, he is now based in New York.)