Alicia and I separated from the rest of the team last week.
We left Iringa to travel to a village in the bush of Africa.
A village with no running water or electricity.
We had an extremely chatty translator with us so we could communicate with the town that mainly spoke Swahili and bits of English.
We stayed four days to share the word of God with the people.
It ended up being an interesting four days.
Thursday 2:36pm 
I have a tire squishing my feet and a huge box protruding from the aisle into my leg. All of the spaces in the upper bus racks are bulging so I hold my purse and backpack on my lap. The bus is crammed with people talking loudly and shoving as much junk as they can onto the bus with them. I am already miserable and feel like crying. My seat is second from the back row right over the tires where every bump feels like you’re on a rollercoaster from Hades My seat is also broken and leans forward knotting my neck and back in a matter of minutes. The people behind me sound like they are speaking with megaphones even with my earplugs in. I learn from Joshua, our translator, they are debating things about Tanzania and other countries. They shout back and forth behind me and and scream with laughter every few minutes. I have never heard a sound I like less at the moment. This is certainly an African bus ride. No one has common courtesy. It’s not something practiced here so there is no quiet, and no personal space. An hour into the bus ride I have a head ache and we stop every so often to pick up people on the side of the road who hitch a ride and stand where they can find space in thealready bulging aisle way. The bumps are shaking my body like I’m in a blender. The lady behind me is talking louder and louder and louder. Our 4 hour bus ride turns into 6. I wonder if we will ever make it into the village.
Friday 12:03am 
My eyes flutter open into pitch black darkness, as my ears pick up on an unusual sound. I listen for a few moments to the clicking noises echoing around me and then quickly realize what it is; cockroaches running and flying around the dirt hut. I turn over pulling my sleeping bag up to my chest hoping and praying there were no holes for the filthy insects to climb in through. It should stay tucked under our sleeping mat on the red dirt floor. My face pressed against the mesh green mosquito net, I try to drown out the fluttering of wings and patter of cockroach feet swarming around the room by putting in ear plugs.
Friday 10:02am 
We ride by donkey cart into a Maasai village nearby ours. We had a wonderful breakfast of chapatti and tea before heading out and I am ready to start another day. I tightly grasp the cart so I don’t bounce out. We drive so long my legs fall asleep folded beneath me. Once we get to the village we are shown around. They hand me a baby goat to hold in my arms as they sit us down on tiny carved stools. The Maasai leader asks us multiple questions. Joshua turns to Alecia and I and translates. Children giggle and hide behind their mothers wrap skirts, flies landing in the corners of their eyes . One child with snot dripping down her face is covered in flies. They are so thick it is hard to see her face. We visit their huts and answer questions they have. After several hours we meet in the shade at a large tree in the village to share the word of God. I speak on Jeremiah 29:11…one of my favorite verses. They crowd around eagerly sticking their heads forward, or nursing their babies, but still listening intently. We bring the word God gives us to share. As we are heading out, one Maasai man says he would give me 45 cows for my hand in marriage…I tell him 50 and he has a deal.
Saturday 3:37am 
Roosters crow as I lie in bed, surrounded by darkness , and dwell on how badly I have to pee. The squatty potty is swarming with insects and is totally rank most hours of the day and at night it gets worse, so I tell myself I really don’t have to go at all. I will hold it until morning. I roll over careful not to squish Alisha who is soundly sleeping and breathing deeply right next to me on our mat. Jesus, I mumble. Am I going to make it? Please say yes!” I can’t fall back asleep quick enough so I ask Jesus what I should preach on tomorrow at church. Worship he says. He’s been teaching and revealing much to me about worship so I decide to share on that.
Saturday 8:58pm 
I laugh as Papa, a 22 year old Maaasai boy waves his arms around shouting. PTL (praise the Lord.) His dark skin gleams in the light from the crescent moon. Joshua our translator throws his arms up in the air also and belts out bwana asifiwe . I do the same. And then we all turn back to our dinner of beans and rice laughing as we miss our mouths in the dark. We talk about visting and sharing with the fishermen that morning and how we enjoyed it. I look around. Alecia and I are surrounded by African men, all asking non-stop questions. I think to myself…I am sitting in Africa hanging out with strangers for 3 and 4 hours a night. Just talking about God and life. I smile to myself.
Sunday 4:16pm 
I sigh and talk to Jesus as I look out over the congregation of the church. Jesus, I need you to show up. I cant do this by meself. I look over my notes again before I am called up to preach. God, I am not a preacher. I’m lacey. And God says, exactly. My power is made perfect in weakness.
I speak on love. For a whole 24 minutes. It may not sound like much, but if you know me, that’s very long and very hard to do. But not with God.
Sunday 9:35pm 
The week has flown by. We have made new friends, and gone new places. We have shared new information and Jesus with all of the thirsty locals. It is nearly bedtime and yet numerous people are still at our house, wanting more. Alecia and I are asked to speak one last time. Searching I ask God what to share. How can we already leave when theres so much more to share and do. I encouraged them to keep the community they have. I have found community to be challenging, and they make it look real. The Africans live community. And unity. They pray over us and we pray over them. The ladies stay around after the men leave to ask more questions. We answer more.
Monday 6:07am 
It’s 607. We have been awake since 5. The bus is late. We have sat in the dark watching the pink sun rise over the mountains. Finally the bus pulls up and we crowd on after shaking hands, giving hugs, and gifting us with dried fish.
Good bye new friends and new family. Goodbye village.
