The eucalyptus leaves twist and hourglass to rest from the
canopy above to the gravel driveway of our gated
hostel in Nairobi. We’ve been here for
four days. Later this evening (Friday,
February 4) we will leave for a long all night bus ride to Kampala, Uganda,
driving over potholed dirt roads that throw the passengers in the back seats high
in the air. Tomorrow morning we will
arrive only to hire a matatu to take us to our ministry location
somewhere deep in the bush of the country.
canopy above to the gravel driveway of our gated
hostel in Nairobi. We’ve been here for
four days. Later this evening (Friday,
February 4) we will leave for a long all night bus ride to Kampala, Uganda,
driving over potholed dirt roads that throw the passengers in the back seats high
in the air. Tomorrow morning we will
arrive only to hire a matatu to take us to our ministry location
somewhere deep in the bush of the country.
But for now
we are in Kenya and my mind stays here, comes to rest on the memory of Patrick’s compound, the grass
and dirt that carpeted the courtyard which we used as a living room. Patrick’s mother-in-law owned the compound. Her mud house-and it really looked like a
house even though the walls and floors were mud and sometimes gave off the
faint smell of the dung they were made of-housed Team Fanatic, and Patrick’s
brick and cement house facing it housed Sofia, me. The guys slept in Patrick’s room with
him. Emmy, his wife, slept in her
mother’s house with Fanatic.
In the
mornings we’d go out to eat breakfast and sit on the wooden benches we made for
the family which were well placed under small trees and a bougainvillea vine
that budded bright pink. We drank mugs
of milk tea and ate bread with peanut butter and jelly and sometimes had fried
eggs, the twelve of us sitting around this African dining room, three stumps
for tables and don’t worry if you spill your tea because it was just dirt. We couldn’t have been happier.
mornings we’d go out to eat breakfast and sit on the wooden benches we made for
the family which were well placed under small trees and a bougainvillea vine
that budded bright pink. We drank mugs
of milk tea and ate bread with peanut butter and jelly and sometimes had fried
eggs, the twelve of us sitting around this African dining room, three stumps
for tables and don’t worry if you spill your tea because it was just dirt. We couldn’t have been happier.
One day we
went to a big waterfall a dozen or so kilometers away. We were driven by a matatu Patrick
knew, the same he’d had pick us up from the bus station on our first day in
Eldoret. The inside of the matatu was
black and covered with decals of words and pictures, as they usually are, but
these were Christianese epithets like “the family that prays together” and
“your miracle is on the way.” There was also a big picture of President
Obama. It was busy.
went to a big waterfall a dozen or so kilometers away. We were driven by a matatu Patrick
knew, the same he’d had pick us up from the bus station on our first day in
Eldoret. The inside of the matatu was
black and covered with decals of words and pictures, as they usually are, but
these were Christianese epithets like “the family that prays together” and
“your miracle is on the way.” There was also a big picture of President
Obama. It was busy.
We made
friends with the conductor, Ken, right away.
He spoke clear, beautifully accented English, was studying to be a
lawyer, and was a bit of a clown. He
loved to jump out of the matatu while it was moving and run along after
it, twist around to run backwards and lose pace with it only to sprint ahead
again to catch up and jump in, a big white smile on his black face.
friends with the conductor, Ken, right away.
He spoke clear, beautifully accented English, was studying to be a
lawyer, and was a bit of a clown. He
loved to jump out of the matatu while it was moving and run along after
it, twist around to run backwards and lose pace with it only to sprint ahead
again to catch up and jump in, a big white smile on his black face.
Dan, the driver was nice too. He didn’t speak English but he had a kind,
gentle face. Soft eyes and well creased
smile. I tried to make eye contact, but he didn’t look at me. He was shy, maybe because he didn’t speak English.
gentle face. Soft eyes and well creased
smile. I tried to make eye contact, but he didn’t look at me. He was shy, maybe because he didn’t speak English.
Later that
day, tired from swimming and hiking, Dan and Ken drove us home. I sat in the front because I get
carsick. Jeremy, Patrick’s infant son,
“drove,” or rather Dan let him sit in his lap and pretend. Mostly he flipped the windshield wiper button. The rubber wiper creaked across the dusty window. He tried to honk the horn but he didn’t have the strength to push the button
and so it only sounded an occasional squeak.
day, tired from swimming and hiking, Dan and Ken drove us home. I sat in the front because I get
carsick. Jeremy, Patrick’s infant son,
“drove,” or rather Dan let him sit in his lap and pretend. Mostly he flipped the windshield wiper button. The rubber wiper creaked across the dusty window. He tried to honk the horn but he didn’t have the strength to push the button
and so it only sounded an occasional squeak.
It was late
in the day. The air was still warm but
the sky was losing its brightness. My limbs
were heavy and calm from the day. There
were mountains and achebe trees, brown cornfields and green grass all
dancing past Dan’s window, and there was Dan himself, holding Jeremy close,
leaning his head down to touch his chin to the Jeremy’s soft black hair, a shy,
content smile on his face, his soft eyes squinting kindness.
in the day. The air was still warm but
the sky was losing its brightness. My limbs
were heavy and calm from the day. There
were mountains and achebe trees, brown cornfields and green grass all
dancing past Dan’s window, and there was Dan himself, holding Jeremy close,
leaning his head down to touch his chin to the Jeremy’s soft black hair, a shy,
content smile on his face, his soft eyes squinting kindness.
I like
this, I thought. This is good. And he’s going to make such a good
father. What a good man.
this, I thought. This is good. And he’s going to make such a good
father. What a good man.
The slow,
calm thoughts of contentment, like a beer at a barbecque with your friends on an
August day. Leaning back, limbs tired and relaxed, and looking around to see good people and
the beauty of nature. These are the
things a man can live for.
calm thoughts of contentment, like a beer at a barbecque with your friends on an
August day. Leaning back, limbs tired and relaxed, and looking around to see good people and
the beauty of nature. These are the
things a man can live for.
Two weeks
later we were in Patrick’s courtyard, our old African living room. Our packs were on the grass and we were
waiting for Dan and another matatu to come to take us to the bus
station. We were leaving. It was time to come to Nairobi. The matatus were late. It was 9:30.
They were supposed to pick us up at 8:45.
later we were in Patrick’s courtyard, our old African living room. Our packs were on the grass and we were
waiting for Dan and another matatu to come to take us to the bus
station. We were leaving. It was time to come to Nairobi. The matatus were late. It was 9:30.
They were supposed to pick us up at 8:45.
“I have
some bad news,” said Patrick, his usual joviality gone. “Dan has passed away. I have just heard. He died last night.”
some bad news,” said Patrick, his usual joviality gone. “Dan has passed away. I have just heard. He died last night.”
I sat,
stunned, on the grass. I’d seen him just
the day before at the house. Just that
morning Patrick and I had gone to look for him to get him to take us to the bus
station. He hadn’t been answering his
phone.
stunned, on the grass. I’d seen him just
the day before at the house. Just that
morning Patrick and I had gone to look for him to get him to take us to the bus
station. He hadn’t been answering his
phone.
He was
dead. Now he was gone. Stolen before his time.
dead. Now he was gone. Stolen before his time.
I
remembered my dream for him, my prophesy in a way: Dan would be a good
father. He would hold his children
tenderly. He would love them well. They
would be cared for.
remembered my dream for him, my prophesy in a way: Dan would be a good
father. He would hold his children
tenderly. He would love them well. They
would be cared for.
But now…
Now.
Maybe this
is what you should expect from Africa, these unexpected delays and deaths.
is what you should expect from Africa, these unexpected delays and deaths.
Two matatus
came, neither of them Dan’s. We went to
the bus station, said our teary goodbyes to Patrick, who made us promise to
come visit him again, and got on our bus.
came, neither of them Dan’s. We went to
the bus station, said our teary goodbyes to Patrick, who made us promise to
come visit him again, and got on our bus.
How do you
mourn an acquaintance who was a good man?
mourn an acquaintance who was a good man?
And how do
deal with this fragility of life? In
America life seems so sure, so uninterruptable.
Here it is different, one senses.
deal with this fragility of life? In
America life seems so sure, so uninterruptable.
Here it is different, one senses.
I don’t
know what else to say. I didn’t know
Dan. But I believe he was a good
man. What else is there to say? What else in the wake and face of death? Death.
Against which we are all so impotent.
Should I say Rest in Peace? May
God bless you? May he keep you? Or some other epithet?
know what else to say. I didn’t know
Dan. But I believe he was a good
man. What else is there to say? What else in the wake and face of death? Death.
Against which we are all so impotent.
Should I say Rest in Peace? May
God bless you? May he keep you? Or some other epithet?
What else
is there to say when a good man is taken before his time?
is there to say when a good man is taken before his time?
I don’t
know. I just don’t know.
know. I just don’t know.
