jon arensen – Houghton STAR

A book review ought to start, more than likely, with the book. But my review can’t begin there. It begins with the man. The man who wrote the book, who gathered days and moments, adventures and seasons, who recalled and reminisced and turned memories to words, to pages, to chapters, to book: a collection of short stories bound in Where Antelope Roam.

Photo Courtesy of: Amazon.com

I cannot separate the book from the man; but then, I don’t need to. This is autobiography—what makes the book worth reading is the man who lives a life worth reading. I vouch for the value of both.

I begin, however, with the author. An author I first knew as a professor.

With an energy and eagerness (either endearing or embarrassing) of my college freshman self, I sat in his Cultural Anthropology classroom. Before the end of his two hour class, I remember clearly thinking “I want to do what he does.” Now this, I’m coming to learn, has less to do with the specifics of doing—with mimicking job or education or, not to give too much away, the handling of horned vipers—but the being. And this is harder to articulate and harder to enact.

What I sensed in that classroom, and what I sense in the pages of this book, is this fullness of life. A character and a being, a posturing, that is wonderful—that is, really, full of wonder. It is this unwavering joy in life—a firm confidence in the value of here: this place, this person, this landscape and moment before me. It is this seeking and spotting of goodness that is wholly refreshing and inspiring. It is wise. In being lost, in carrying out difficult work in a sometimes difficult climate and context, in childhood and career and aging, in adventure and misadventure, there is a lightheartedness and there is always learning.

This is an incredible life and these are incredible stories about a person and a place, beloved. Africa, a continent so often stereotyped or skewed, is given life and image through Arensen’s stories: it is spectacularly beautiful and complex. much like the people that we are, like the lives we live, and the countries and continents we inhabit. This is a life and a continent that cannot be painted with a broad stroke. And it isn’t. Arensen’s stories, instead, are threaded with themes of humour, culture, spirituality, sorrow, knowledge, and wisdom.

This anthology, these stories, provides snippets and snapshots of a patchwork life, colourful, pieces unique and wonderful, each with a pattern and shade of their own.

My sophomore self, with a slightly more subtle enthusiasm, did end up doing what he did (or at least one of the things he did—it was a start). I signed up for his study-abroad program, a program he founded and directed for many years, in Tanzania. And on our first full day, he shared with his cohort of students this Anglican catechism: “What is the chief end of man? To glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” This is something Arensen, and his book, embodies. And it is this I hope to do—and be.

This is a book you ought to read, and a man you ought to know.

Rachel Woodworth is a Class of 2015 Houghton Alum.

Jon Arensen is as masterful a storyteller as he is a lecturer. As a freshman, I recall leaving his classroom and thinking, “I want to do what he does”. This is what his stories do: they inspire. In the pages of his most recent book, The Red Pelican, (the third of Arensen’s “Sudan Trilogy”) are the stories of Dick Lyth and his fifteen years spent in Sudan, a collection of tales that hold tragedy and thrill, faith and culture, peace and war. As the pages turn he’ll have you saying, “I want to do what he does”.

In 1939, Dick Lyth graduated from Oxford and moved to southern Sudan as a young man of 21 years, full of enthusiasm for mission and for adventure. Shortly after his arrival, WWII began. Lyth enlisted and was drafted into the Sudan Defense Force. He finished training as a Major and 120 local men were placed under his command. Posted to a remote and harsh corner of the country, Lyth was given a brief but serious task: to secure the Ethiopian border by holding the Italians at bay and thereby cutting off their access to the precious Nile. This assignment meant guerrilla warfare. In the ensuing months, Lyth and his small band of men, although outnumbered and pushed to every limit, were successful owing greatly to their strength, innovation, and luck. However this victory was not without loss—a loss you feel as you read as Lyth takes aim at his first human target. At the conclusion of the war, Lyth’s role and title changes from Major to District Commissioner, from defender to peace builder. As an overseer of an expansive Murle region, Lyth carried out his work in many ways; as a missionary, administrator, linguist, anthropologist, surveyor, husband, and father. The Murle people named him Kemerbong—Red Pelican; peacemaker. His coworkers endearingly called him the “Commissionary”—well-loved commissioner and missionary. He was an ever-adventurer, ever-seeker, and ever-learner with steadfast faith and commitment—characteristics attested to in his personal writing: “I am loving this life, so free and so essentially positive…I am out adventuring with God…I am His, absolutely and forever. His to use or not to use…I will laugh with Him and I will weep with Him. Above all and in all and through all I will delight to do His will forever and ever”.

Engrossing and engaging, The Red Pelican will draw you in and turn you out, outward to the longing for a life and story far bigger than the conventional, the safe, the mediocre, or the comfortable. Arensen, near the end of the book, describes Lyth’s evening ritual: swimming in the Akobo River. Dick would dive underwater and grab the village boys’ legs, pretending to be a crocodile—“the game was made even more exciting because of the real crocodiles in the river”. I want to live where the crocodiles nibble my toes; to choose a life of adventure and of learning, not only for myself and for my gain, but for a better and deeper understanding of the world; for the seeking, finding, and displaying of God’s glory… available for Him “to use or not to use”. Intercultural Majors, pick up this book and read it. Read and learn as Lyth navigates the territory of cross cultural sensitivity, immersion, and conflict. Heck, whatever your major—pick up this book and read it. Embark on Lyth’s adventure, then go and embark on your own.