Their African Experiment

First of all, they promised they weren’t going to minister to me, although I should have known not to trust the fundamentalists. I was intrigued because on campus near the UCLA Fowler museum on the lawn that leads to the “stairway to heaven” was a large brown tent erected in the image of disaster relief camps that one might view on the evening news. What attracted me initially was the large poster of Africa with the picture of a very young and sad-eyed boy whose face was on posters around campus. (You know, the typical pull-at-the-heartstrings image) The “African experience” which was sponsored by World Vision, a Christian Relief Organization and the UCLA campus crusaders for Christ, wanted UC Students to know what it might be like for children in “Africa”. In fact, the exhibit allowed one to walk through the shoes of three children, one from Malawi, one from Zambia and the other from Uganda. One was able to do this by wearing a headset and going through the “tent-rooms” designated to the specific child.

Prior to entering the exhibit, campus crusaders introduced people to the purpose of the project and told us of their “intense” experiences of walking through the shoes of one of these three children. Although, when I asked one worker which country the child of her “African Experience” was from, she couldn’t quite recall. She said, “I think she was from Uganda or Rwanda or Zambia, well…” [You know, aren’t they all the same?] Imagine if we were immigrants in Uganda and someone were trying to say “I think this person is from the US or maybe Mexico or Haiti or Honduras or maybe Brazil, well, you know, it’s all the same over there in the Americas.” My goodness…

With MP3 and hi-tech Sony headphones in my possession, I embarked on my journey through the life of Steven, a young boy from Northern Uganda. The Euro-male narrator’s slitherish voice informed me that I was a poor child in Northern Uganda and had been abducted and brainwashed by the Lords Resistance Army. Although the positive part of this was that I was also told that I, as Steven, was HIV negative, although the other two “African experiments” were HIV positive. Although mostly interesting, especially for people who are unaware of the LRA in Northern Uganda, the information provided on Uganda’s AIDS crisis was questionable.

After 20 minutes of living the life of Steven, I exited the tent to be greeted by Campus crusaders who consulted all the “African Experiencers” for post-exhibit consultation. The potential pastor who met with me asked me of my religious affiliations and when I told him I was Christian he wanted to know which church I went to and what sorts of ministering I did. Although I informed this young man that I was not part of an official church, he seemed to question my Christianness (oh how I desired to say “I am Christian, but I serve the Orixás and I consult curandieros from time to time!”). I tried to keep the conversation focused on Africa, but he went on and asked me what I thought God had to do with Africa. Um, well, first of all the Catholic Church was a major proponent in the slave trade. And what about the Jewish children kidnapped in the Iberian Peninsula during the Inquisition who were taken to São Tomé and Príncipe (and possibly other African Nations)? It has nothing to do with God, but people who use it as an excuse. Deus é grande, viu!

When I suggested that people actually go to Africa and do something, the crusaders seemed less thrilled and simply smiled before God-blessing me goodbye.

And of course before leaving the African Experience you could sponsor one of World Vision’s famous children. Don’t ask to actually bring the money in person, because they have no idea where these children actually live and if they really exist. Just hand over the money to make yourself feel better. Or, if you are a fan of politicking through jewelry, you could, for a mere $27.50 buy a small beaded bracelet from Kenya. Or was it Malawi, Mali, or Mozambique? Wait, we cannot remember. Was it Guyana? No, Guyana is in South Asia. I mean South America. I was thinking of Guinea. Where is that, again?

And they will pray for you. Because Prayer is a beautiful thing. Then I ask myself, but sitting on a lawn, holding hands, singing kumbaya is going to do what, exactly, for Steven and the other children abducted by the LRA? For AIDS? For Education? For Poverty?

Meu Deus…


What do you think?