Leaving home, Coming home

“Well leaving England never gets any easier, no matter how many times you do it” 
 . . . . . these were wise words from My Auntie Sylvia who spent 14 years working in Kenya and I feel so reassured by them.
Yet, It still feels like I am tearing myself away from loved ones and the life that makes sense to me…. I know that I will be fine once I reach Kenya but for now I feel heart broken and a little bit confused. I feel like my life has two sides that rarely cross over.  I want them both, and I love them both, but living in-between the two is hard and therefore the dreaded confusing days leading up to departure are never comfortable.

Anyway I am here,  back in Kenya. I have arrived to the warm air, the sunny skies and the ever smiling faces… I forget that there really is so much a sense of joy here. I instantly feel welcomed by strangers who feel like long lost friends.
As I go to pick up my baggage, I find a big pile up of cases upon cases because the conveyer is not going round and bags are everywhere.  People are clambering over the bags, but no one seems really that inconvenienced by it - no one except the odd white person who is certainly not amused. . . I chuckle to myself as I remember a similar sight last time where a dog was circulating around the only working conveyer as if he was in some sort of fashion parade!

I hope I continue in this way of finding such things endearing, it is all too easy to get exasperated and frustrated and loose sight of some of the beauty and simplicity of this place.  

One of my resolutions for this season is to enjoy this  beautiful country, to look up more instead of looking down, to be with the people rather than just doing things for them, to revel more in what Kenya is so rich in, the beautiful countryside, wonderful people and varied experiences. I don’t want to be that cross white person at the airport who excludes themselves because they don’t understand, or see the bigger picture, or enter in to the more important values of this place.

Once I have my bags I wander out towards the sea of taxi drivers who are eagerly waving, wanting to attract customers. I am looking for my Masai friend, David, who is picking me up and spot his tall stature immediately, as his head towers above all the others. It is 7.30 a.m. and he has been waiting an hour for me, I apologise and he smiles with arms open and says” hakuna matata”

David and his friend Emmanuel take me on an adventure. I doze in the car and we arrive at a place that turns out to be the hottest place on earth, (even a Masai can comment that ‘this place is too hot’)  I am laughing at the thought of me coming from England in my jeans to a dessert place with no shade. But that hot, hot sunshine warms my bones and I am touched that they have planned this day out for me. We walk around a museum and excavation sight, looking at rock formations and elephant skulls from thousands of years ago…I love the randomness, was it really yesterday that I was eating a bacon sandwich with my dad?

A few nights of Nairobi and staying with my friend was wonderful, I am amazed by all the choices I have at the supermarket here and stock up on all the things that I couldn’t fit in to my case before I left, (you know, the essentials like marshmallows, Imperial Leather shower foam, a tube of Pringles and a can of tuna..) it is amazing how the mundane becomes so exciting.

Then It’s time for me to get on the coach and start my 10 hour journey back to Kimilili. On my way back to Western, I feel like I am on my way home and the first strand of excitement comes over me - the welcome back text messages start to roll in  and I remember the reasons why I am coming back. That is a relief as those reasons really had escaped my mind when I was being waved off by Dad and Lizzie at the airport, where I almost hoped for the plane to be cancelled so I didn’t have to go…
........when I had gone through baggage check, I think the assistant had taken pity on me when he saw the tears in my eyes and he called me into the fast lane to be checked, no sooner had he done that than the whole team of Manchester United players swarmed amongst me in their smart black suits and I found myself muddled up, as we all took off our belts and put our phones on the conveyer. I must admit my chipped little Nokia had looked quite prehistoric in the tray next to their flashy Iphones . . . . . . .  24 hours later the contrasts of this world really are so extreme!

As we travel further west, the shops and toilets get more and more basic and as we stop for a snack I strangely feel more grounded by the usual limited variety,…no Pringles here, but soggy plain crisps in a clear packet are in their plenty! I am delighted to spy a fruit seller selling apples, a real rarity, even if it does cost a whole 30p - that is six times the price of a banana, but it is delicious and we set off again. 
I look out the window at the little waving hands of children and the colourful shops with their interesting names, like a general store named “ Christ’s blood shed is our salvation” and another named “ Nice Sausage” - I can only assume it sells sausages, but who knows, this is Kenya! It is good to be back.

Back to Kimilili

My good friend Michael, wearing a big wide smile and jumping around, meets me off the bus at Bungoma - we chat all the way home,

More text messages come through and they are lovely, such as
       “how soon will you pass by my house”   and
                “ I hear you are back, so I am ironing my shirt so I look my best”
What a welcome, I feel loved!

Doing the rounds of 'Hellos' starts, and visiting friends and babies that have arrived since I was away is special.  I am served up beans and Chappatis by a mother who acts as if she was not in labour 5 days ago and we share all the stories and laugh a lot. Apparently I look
“typical Musungu”  healthy (meaning I have put on weight) and very white…

I can't wait to get back to my shop.  Evans welcomes me and has kept everything in perfect order while I have been away. In the workshop at the back, (which was a bit unused when I left) there is a hive of activity, and Dalmas, one of the artists talks me through the paintings that he has been doing with Evans. It is so refreshing to see how they all have a much deeper concept, and it is evident that he and Evans have really thought about the message they want to portray. This is amazing to see because you only really see artwork being produced in the tourist areas, and even then, it is the same image of a Masai or an elephant churned out 1000 times.

I am inspired and encouraged and want to plan an exhibition soon. Bring on the creativity in this place! I have been talking about it for so long and now I want to help make it happen.

Kitale and the sheep

Well, today Becky and I went off to Kitale…( a big-ish town about an hour and 20 min drive away) she went to get a tooth seen to, while I took the chance to go to the supermarket to buy the holiday club food….

After carting the 50 kilos of rice, tea leaves, 5 kilos of sugar, 1800 biscuits etc. around the shop and then into to the car, we decided to treat ourselves to an imported Crunchie bar for the road! (it’s about 5 times the price of back home,  and tastes a bit… old, but still a treat!)

 While Becky went to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine, for the Eye Clinic going on at the hospital next week, I waited outside in the vehicle, and began tucking into my half of the Crunchie when suddenly there was a big crash - my Crunchie bar flew through the air, and as the our car lurched forward, I looked round and saw a Matatu in the back of our car…

There was quite a commotion - lots of Kenyan men seemed to appear, from nowhere, at my window, everyone was shouting at the Matatu driver who made a lame excuse that we were parked badly….... After it was pointed out to the driver that he was fighting a loosing battle  . . . . he had been insisting that crashing into any stationary vehicle was not the fault of the one who crashed into it . . . he kind of smiled, and said “I know, I know” (I kind of admire the fact that even in more stressful situations, Kenyans manage to smile and keep things light and positive.)

I found myself wondering which of the 4 men who were talking ‘at’ me was actually the driver, and where was Becky? What would she say when she came out of the Pharmacy to find this commotion had erupted in under just 2 minutes...?  And, more to the point, what happened to my Crunchie bar?

So Becky came back - we had to think . . .  “Now erm… what’s the procedure for this kind of thing in Kenya then?”  We realized it was best to seek advice, so made a phone call to the owner of the car and had  him speak to one of the many men who just happened to be a Mechanic. The Mechanic gave a quote estimating the damage to be 6,000 ksh (about £50 - quite a lot for a Kenyan to produce immediately!) So, it was all agreed that we will be given the 6,000 ksh, and then be on our way.

It all sounded pretty simple at this stage until it was apparent that getting that money is easier said than done!! By this time, it was raining and everyone was hovering under the shop veranda except us, we were standing in the pouring rain discussing the money issue.

As time went by, the group of men disappeared one by one, I think because they realised they might be called upon to chip in for cash. Eventually we are left with 2 people - the real driver and the Mechanic who suggested we go to their boss’s house… so we got back in the vehicle and the two men squeezed into the back to sit amongst the sacks of rice and bucket of cooking oil.

“ Where are we going? “ I asked..

‘Just there’ - they point…
“Ok, how far is there?’ I asked, hoping for a bit more info
“About 2 kilometres”.

….So, maybe 6 kilometres later we pulled in at a small shop, where an old man and his wife were sitting. At first they were excited to see white people, but soon they realised the white people were there to take some money off them and the man’s face hardened a bit.

It was a funny situation for us as we felt awful demanding money from someone who wasn’t even involved, but we had been instructed not to leave without the money so we had to insist, explaining that we lived far away and were under strict orders from the vehicle owner…

 An hour went by with a lot of discussion going on.  Every now and then they turned around and said, “Why can’t you come back tomorrow?” We explained and phoned the owner again who explained that this was really a police matter!  It was late, and the thought of facing the police here was worse than facing the consequences of going home empty handed. It was getting dark we knew it was not safe to be out at night, and it would be hard to dodge all the pot holes in the dark.

We could see the men were scratching around for cash. . . one had about ‘a fiver’s worth’ on his phone, another had a handful of coins, that along with the shop takings of the week amounted  to around 2000ksh but it was still a long way off from what we needed.

I really just wanted to go in my purse and pay it myself but asked “Is there any other way of getting some cash?”  The man’s face lit up, he had a brainwave - “I have a sheep will you take it?  It is worth 4000ksh…”    Well I loved the idea, and at this stage we would take anything, we just wanted to get home!

So we got in the vehicle and went to the boss’s house, a tidy compound with a few sheep. The man went up to one of his sheep; a big black one with white socks, and said “Take this one”…. Well I loved her, and how exciting to take home a sheep!  But I wondered where we would keep her?  The man told us there was a lot of meat on her, so she could be slaughtered for a special occasion.  I had to explain to him that I couldn’t eat her but instead I would give her a name!

The men laughed and the mood lightened again, except my sheep didn’t look too pleased about going home with us.  I was concerned that she really might not survive an hour and a half journey in the dark against the piled up food in the back seat.  However, I took the Kenyan attitude of “It will be ok!”

As we were loading the sheep in the vehicle, the owner of the car phoned again to see how things were going. We explained we had settled for a sheep as payment … but he told us we must not take the sheep because it is bad manners to take a sheep from an old man…. (I wondered which really was bad manners, since I had thought it was bad manners to turn up at a stranger’s house unannounced and demand money  - but what do I know?! )

So we had to give back the lovely white socked sheep and told him there was a change of plan.  He gave us the few coins he had collected and the sheep was happy to go back to her patch.

After many offers of Chai and supper, we explained that we had a long journey ahead of us, in the dark, and needed to get on our way.  It was funny the way we all exchanged numbers, as if they were our long lost relatives, or as if we had met under completely different circumstances. They waved us off and promised to stay in touch; I took one last glance at the sheep as we drove by, and found myself waving to her as well!!

On the way home we chuckled to ourselves. Although I love it, I don’t think I will ever fully get this country!  (I also love the idea of having a sheep now too. One of these days I may just buy one as a pet, although I don’t think I will ever find a black one with four white socks!)

As we warm up and dry off and even find our chocolate treat, we are once again reminded that no two days are the same here.

 

 

Kenya's finest

Since living in Kenya I have always prioritised doing the cultural things as opposed to the touristy things. So, I have mostly travelled direct from Nairobi to Kimilili and seen little else along the way. However as most of the visitors who come to see more of Kenya than I do, I decided now was the time to check out some more of this beautiful country that I have spent almost two and a half years in.

My sister and I decided to hit the Masai Mara…..

On travelling through Masai land in a vehicle, I felt a bit frivolous - at the mission our much needed fuel takes us to many far flung communities, reaching all kinds of needs - yet here we were burning petrol going up and down the vast Mara landscape for nothing but our own pleasure…

I put unnecessary pressure on myself… (like I always do, when I have paid a fortune to see my favourite band perform, and just hope those few hours will be worth the money).. Would this adventure really be worth it?  Especially like so many things, when bigged up so much, they often end up being a disappointment.

The Mara itself was beautiful and for miles and miles one could see millions of blades of orange grasses and some still, solitary trees scattered across the wide span of landscape…now and again you would see a red speck in the distance, of the cloth of a Masai guarding his cows. The Mara was so peaceful, so huge, so different to any other landscape I have ever seen before.

My sister was so excited and loving it after a few seconds…as she saw the hyenas looking just as sly as you would expect, or the funny wart hogs collectively doing a merry little dance…

It was indeed special to see many animals in their natural habitat, the rhino waddling along going about his business, the lion prowling the area, living up to his kingly status and the Giraffes gracefully strolling the horizon with their beautiful silhouetted frames. 

                           






But then, there He was, probably my most favorite of all, the magnificent elephant who majestically shadowed the vast landscape with his massive frame, like a gentle giant he passed us, almost blocking out the sun completely. It was one of those moments where words escape you and all you can feebly mutter is "wow". There I was, armed with my long lens camera and multiple sketchbooks, but for what? How could I possibly document this moment and do it justice?

 . It is a moment that I can not attempt to do justice with words, but if I was to try, I would say, you realise how big the world is, how small we are, and what deeply considered beauty surrounds us, so much of it untapped. I felt closer to my creator for just being there because somehow standing within a few feet of a lion or an elephant I had no choice but to acknowledge how magnificent our God the creator really is. I felt small, humbled and in no way wanted to compete with a perfect piece of work by trying to photograph it myself. I just stood, looked up, gulped for a second time and admitted defeat. There are parts of this world that are just too beautiful to photograph, too perfect to draw and too overwhelming to write about, this was one of them. 

The Neighbour

Last night our next door neighbour died in a car accident.

Within 30 minutes, it seemed, the community knew and supported the family in whatever way they saw fit - money donations, making chai, or just going round and being with the family to grieve as soon as they heard.

Apparently he was a lovely man, the father in law to one of our mission staff.

He was riding on his motorbike and hit by another car, he died instantly.

Since then all we have heard is the family mourning. All through the night we have heard, crying, wailing, screaming and shouting.  It literally brings the reality of the situation home to us. There’s none of that British "putting on a brave face" stuff.  Death seems all too common here; In fact it is such a reality people live with that they don’t seem to fear it like we do. Nor are they shocked by it.

Although it's uncomfortable for us to hear the cries, I think it is right that people scream at the top of their voices for as long as they need to, having complete freedom to express their grief. I know if we acted like this in our culture people would say we have lost it. But really, what is worse than the death of a loved one, and, in a time of mourning what is a more appropriate thing to do than wail and cry and scream?

The boy and the lollipop.

The Mission I am working for (www.icfem-mission.org) does such amazing work, and it seems like things are really happening at the moment. I do wonder what would happen to so many people in Western Kenya, if this mission were not here.

Last week "Wheels For The World" another great charity from the UK, teamed up with us to provide and distribute wheelchairs. I was lucky enough to witness the distribution one day, at the IcFEM headquarters, where hundreds of people showed up in their hope to get a chair. Some turned up in broken and torn chairs, some crawled and others were carried.

It’s fair to say that I felt pretty insignificant that day…what need!  And yet how on earth can I help? Having no medical or technical ability I felt bad that I couldn’t even talk to these people, since I could barely speak their local "Bukusu" language.

After a long day of massive blessings, the 83 chairs were all distributed. And 83 people encouraged and given a new hope… but 83 wasn’t enough.

Some of us, who were observing what was going on from the sidelines, cowered as we watched the team go round, one by one breaking the bad news to people that were going home empty handed.

I stood and watched the sad news being delivered to the mother of a little boy - she too would be carrying her son home in her arms and not in a chair because all the children’s chairs had run out. The little boy's face changed when she explained to him, he seemed to understand that it was bad news. The next to receive the sad news was a M’zee (an old tall bearded man) he also graciously nodded with acceptance when he was told… it went on and on. I went back to watching the small boy, who just sat on his mother's lap as she sweetly smiled at the boy and kissed his head as a tear rolled quietly rolled down her cheeks. Like all of us, I wanted to do something but had absolutely nothing - nothing, except a lollipop! I walked over to the boy rather sheepishly aware that this consolation prize may be construed as an insensitive and pathetic effort to console someone…. but I had to do something.

I didn’t expect the little chap's face to light up quite so much -  what a beautiful big smile this little boy had! He had come out of the discouragement he had just experienced, with all the implications it meant for his life without a chair, and seen joy in a 5 bob lollipop. Equally moving was the way his mother smiled and said "Thank-you" to me. What was amazing was that the smile stayed on his face until I went home, and he waved at me every time I passed... 

How humbled I was! 

Of course the two don’t compare.. but I learned two things that day…
1) like the little boy, we should focus on what we have and not what we need or want; and
2) we should never allow ourselves to feel insignificant. We always have a part to play, no matter how small we feel, we can always do something.

The "Wheels Team" distributed 218 chairs in 3 days.

Please, if you know any children with wheelchairs encourage them to look after those chairs and when they grow out of them, they can be used to bless others, very far away, who need them.  "Wheels For The World" need more chairs, especially children’s wheelchairs.

Above Michael (Children's Pastor) takes the chance to do a puppet show for all the children waiting for chairs...

Right: Some of the happy customers going home with their new chairs. 

After two years…..

Well a blank page and over 2 years have passed since my last blog entry . . . . . 

 

Where shall I start?   In all honesty I didn’t realise anyone actually ever read this, it was only till I stopped. that I found out that some do…Thanks!

It’s shocking to me that I have let so much time go by without communicating.

What’s more shocking is that I can’t even put my finger on big events to update you with… I can’t tell of big achievements that have happened in the last two years and the impact that I have made here….

It feels like yesterday that I arrived… can it really be over two years? Yet, as I look back on my first few months, where there was so much to comment about, I realise I was like a tiny and vulnerable little girl not having a clue about how to get in the swing of living here.

I look back and remember how lonely I felt, how clueless I was and how new and uncertain everything seemed. At least I can see a change in me from then till now…. maybe that is what I have to show for my time here!

So maybe progress is this… I completely underestimated what an adjustment it would be living in a different culture, and now I finally feel I am on the brink of understanding it and all the subtle differences that separate it from the culture I know. Its not the obvious differences which throw one, it’s all the unsaid rules and traditions that one can, without meaning to, blatantly offend someone, or get offended by. For example, I am daily told how fat I am, always with gesticulations comparing to the backside of a hippo… “Thanks!” but these days I don’t get offended I just laugh it off, realising it is meant as a compliment.  In fact this culture has made me realise that I must not take life so seriously.

 

It is also so nice to finally be known. White people stick out like a sore thumb and it is impossible to go anywhere without being chased by little children and a chorus of “Musungu” (meaning white person…)“ how are you-how are - how are you?- I’m fine!” but at least now the Musungu part is replaced with my name!

So greeting all the faces from fruit sellers to bicycle taxi men is just part of my morning walk to work. Sometimes in "English", sometimes in "Swahili" or sometimes in another of the many tribal languages.  Walking to work is normally a happy time, the warm sun and the smiling faces of people who have now become friends. Now and again they will say “ this one she is not a Musungu, she is an African” and it’s nice after feeling 'the odd one out' for so long, to finally be accepted.

 

I am so grateful to a few individuals who looked out for me when I first came, there were a few significant people who made a massive impact,  because if it were not for them, I don’t know if I would even have managed. They may have just bought me a soda or called me on the phone or popped by at the house to see how I was, but their timing was perfect and their actions and obedience to being prompted by God made all the difference.

I am encouraged that we have this ability to impact one another’s lives just by being there and being around and acting instinctively. I hope that that is what I am doing here. I know many people have made a big difference to my life by just being themselves and ‘coincidently’ (although I would call it God ) being at the right place at the right time. I have learned that being eager to encourage someone, in whatever way that may mean, can have a long and lasting effect, one which you yourself may never be aware of or never see the fruit from, I take encouragement from this because I hope that during my time here, so far, I have at least done a bit of that.

The evenings lately have been warm and the sky has been so clear that one can see so many stars.. I love evening time when it is the dry season -  one can smell the smoke in the air of people cooking on their charcoal Jikos or hear the crickets and sometimes some random Kenyan music on a tv or radio playing in the distance. It is that similar feeling to camping that one notices everyone settling down for the night. There is a sense of community and simplicity.

There really are some magical moments where one is taken aback by the beauty of this place or its people. These are moments that if not documented they are gone… and my last two years have been full of them - things such as little encounters which encourage one's heart, or a beautiful sunset that takes away one's breath for a second…For example everyday two little girls, in their school uniforms, march into the shop on the way home from school, they come and offer me their little hands to shake. “How are you?” they both ask in succession. No amount of times this happens seems to dilute their enthusiasm, as if each time is the first time they have ever asked, or the excitement they feel when I reply … and then, delighted, off they go until the next day. Now this is typically Kenyan and could be something seen as a pointless interference in your busy work day, or it could be one of the perks of living here and is something that I personally look forward to.

 

I have learned, as a discipline, to stop and look up once in a while… to stop and pause, to appreciate the moment I am in, to see the stars,  to shake a tiny child’s hand… if I don’t, life will still go on, valuable work will still get done, but without such, I may just miss a big blessing.

 

Well, I am going to make a conscious effort to write more, maybe just for myself so I don’t forget many of the blessings of this country. In the next week, I will be updating this page a lot with snippets of what has happened in the last few years.

Stuff achieved, lessons learned, friends made and hopefully, if memory doesn't fail, a few moments captured too.

Happy Easter

Last night I dreamt I bumped into my old school friend in the supermarket..

seemingly a very normal dream that gave me lots to think about today, since I am a million miles away from her, and that kind of lifestyle…

From school days, when my friend and I had so many similar dreams and interests, now our lives have turned out so different. In my dream, she was buying a steak for her husband and nappies for the baby, talking of dropping a few things in the trolley for their holiday away in a month’s time. Her son was so smartly dressed in all the designer baby gear and, as always, she looked beautiful and happy in the security of her lifestyle.

I woke up to another warm morning. It’s Easter Saturday, but doesn’t feel like it. The schools have all closed and so all the children are playing outside…Behind our banana trees, I can hear them loudly chanting African songs and the neighbour is burning her rubbish a few meters from where the children are playing, but despite the smoke and blatant fire hazard, they don’t take any notice. The cow is making her usual noise which sometimes sounds like a deep "moo" and sometimes almost something from Jurassic park, but the cow boy, about 9 years old, is doing a good job of looking after her as the cow chews on whatever greenery she can find. We normally get milk delivered from friend’s cows every day, but now, both of their cows have dried up due to lack of rain.

Again I am challenged that I am only used to complaining about the unpredictable weather because of how it affects my social plans and not my livelihood.

Today I think I will go and look for a place that we can plan to take all the children for a day trip on the school bus next week. IcFEM normally plans this exciting excursion every holiday (or exciting execution as someone advertised it in church last time) but the problem is that there are about 5 possible places to go in a 100k radius of western Kenya, and we have exhausted all our options on previous trips. We usually end up using the entire budget on fuel, since we have to travel so far and spend half the day on the bus, but this time I am thinking of a different approach.

There is a place that has just opened in Bungoma, our nearest big (ish) town about 40 minutes away from here. It has a grassy area and a playground. (ok the playground is hardly Alton towers, it has a slide and a climbing frame but that will be exciting for these kids) I realise that the children just need a treat and a change of scenery, so if we spend less on fuel we can go and use the play ground and then spend the rest on ‘Nyama choma’ ( roasted meat) for lunch which I am told is a very big deal instead of the plain dry bread we normally can afford. Then, if the budget allows we can even send someone to Bungoma to buy ice-cream. I think ice-cream will be such a treat as I am sure that the majority have never tasted it before and for about 25p each, that could keep these children chatting all weekend. My friend here suggested we could even take them into a supermarket in Bungoma for their day out, (“really a supermarket for a day out" I had  questioned….but apparently many have not seen one before)… my thoughts flashed back to my friend and her son in UK and again, I am reminded, as I am daily, how different life can be.

It seems strange to have an Easter without access to the usual chocolate eggs, it will be the 4th Easter I have spent in Kenya and I still cant really accept the lack of chocolate…. but our chickens are ever hatching new chicks and so, despite the lack of daffodils, we have that great reminder of the new life which God has enabled for us.

 

Happy Easter Everyone!