First, in preface (especially to my brothers,
who will notice and comment :P) YES! I know I’m skipping G and H; I will
return to them momentarily. Second! My account only has a little over
$6000 in it and I need another $8700 to be fully funded at $14,800.
Thirdly, for those of you who have listened to dramatic readings and
poetry, that’s the way this post is written. So when the rhythm and
inflections sound different, that’s why. Now, on to the actual post…
Impressions of Kenya pervade my reality,
inundating my senses.
The familiar sounds of crickets and cicadas,
the soft night breeze riffling the palm fronds.
Rain, scenting the morning air with freshness.
“You Americans always think the mosquitoes listen to Jesus!�
Onesmus, our friendly and helpful Nairobi contact,
states amid our chuckles
while teaching us about Kenyan culture.
“So you don’t use mosquito nets and end up with malaria,� he concludes.
Climbing aboard the EasyCoach bus the following morning
my nostrils are assaulted by the reek of body odor.
Shallow breaths.
It only takes a few minutes for me to adjust.
Bumps
bumps
and
more bumps.
Swerving
tipping
dipping
the bus is
FALLING!
But not quite…
Cactuses that look like trees
and a herd of zebras!
Ah
there go some baboons as well.
And now there are forests,
pine trees with meadows among the trunks,
reminding me of an enchanted wood.
The dry landscape has turned to lush mountains,
green,
so very green.
Lime and
jade and
hunter and
emerald,
jewelling the hills!
The unexpected vibrance is breathtaking amongst the rusty crimson dirt.
I glance back at the squeals of the other girls on my team as we hit a particularly large bump and fly sideways. Rachel aptly comments that the ride is like a roller coaster and the elderly gentleman across the aisle from me tuts under his breath as he shakes his head. He turns to me, managing to get out the exclamation, “Shaky!� around the deep ruts. As we sweep past, a young Kenyan mother with her baby in a sling on her back gazes up at me. Vegetable stands made of sticks, sheet metal, and boards line the road. Baskets of red-violet onions and dusty potatoes sit amid carts of corn, carrots, and the largest cabbages I have ever seen. There, up on the hill, are four children playing on an abandoned vegetable stand, grinning and waving as we drive by. On concrete steps, a young girl sits and cradles a baby as her younger brother stands beside her. Next to me, the woman from the town of Yalla instructs me in Kenyan ways of life. Towns, shacks, small villages… the kilometers thump and rattle on.
Time eases by.
Sleeping and waking intertwine
to form a dreamlike reality.
The final stop…
Are we actually here?
My team stands
bewildered
on the steps.
Pastor Steve is here to rescue us!
And now
here is Reverend Gideon
to welcome
and
to be our father.
Safety and peace envelope.
How jovially we tolerate the ride to the Reverend’s home!
(that would be Reverend Gideon,
the six girls on my team,
our six giant backpacks,
and our six daypacks)
in his small station wagon.
His wife Jane,
known to us as Mama
greets us warmly,
her mahogany arms embracing us
as her daughters.
Chef Lucas,
wonderful
giggly
marvelous
Chef Lucas prepares us
sweet African chai tea.
The warmth fills me to contentment.
Then the food!
Oh, the food…
dahl-like lentils
steamed kale
a steaming stew
with
potatoes and carrots
mounds of white rice
and
fresh chapatti!
The scents combine in an
appetizing aroma and
my stomach rumbles in response.
Deliciousness explodes in my mouth,
salty
savory
succulent…
God has brought me safely to my home for the next three weeks.
Life is good.
I am happy.
Be thankful for what you have, not ungrateful for what you don’t.
