After stepping outside, Kim told me, “It’s a beautiful morning. The sun is shining bright.” The morning of Sunday, August 19th seemingly begged him and me to join the congregation in worship to our Lord. We’d just returned to Nairobi after our thrilling trip to Kakuma Refugee Camp.
After a simple breakfast of tea and bread - accompanied by Sara Groves’ and Fernando Ortega’s wonderful lyrics - we went to Karen Vineyard Church. The service was great, as was the fellowship afterwards. We chatted at length with our friends, Sam and Mike.
Around 2:30, Kim and I boarded a matatu. He dropped off for home at Langata and I continued on, carrying my duffle bag with me. As he alighted from the “mat”, I thought to myself, “He’s such a great friend!” We had spent the past week together; I was still on a high.
Arriving in town, I maneuvered the bustling, crowded streets with no problems, making my way to Coast Bus Lines booking office on Accra Road. After buying my ticket to Mombasa (for Wednesday), I returned the ticket agent’s kind smile and thanked him.
My next destination was to board a bus to Bishop and Margaret’s house. I was eager to see them and their family again. I always enjoy sharing stories with them and I was eager to tell them about finding our friend, Mark, at the refugee camp.
Throughout the day, it had repeatedly occurred to me that it was such a great day. Even as I left the booking office, I had the same thought. “This has been a great day!”
I was in one of the most congested areas of downtown Nairobi - an area, in fact, that many avoid. There are so many vehicles – town matatus, vehicles traveling upcountry, private cars, hand carts, bicycles, pedestrians, etc. One must be ever alert for potential pick-pockets. It cannot be overstated that the area is “chaotic” and “congested”.
Actually, there’s no way I can adequately describe the ever-present crowded conditions throughout much of Kenya. Whether it’s a home, a bed, a church, a small café, a public service vehicle, or a downtown Nairobi street… there never seems to be ample space to live, sleep, worship, eat, travel, drive, or walk. There are crowds of people everywhere.
As I crossed Duruma Road, I passed in front of a Honda CRV, admiring it as I did so. At this intersection, a building was being remodeled. Corrugated iron sheets had been mounted alongside the curb to keep people away from the construction zone. This pushed pedestrians into the street, as the sidewalk was completely blocked. Those of us on foot were forced to occupy and fight for the same space as the vehicles.
I contemplated stopping at Baker’s Inn for a quick snack, maybe a chicken pie. It was now about 3:30 and I hadn’t had lunch. As I continued on my way, I remember going around a young gal that had been walking in front of me.
The very next realization I had was that of being on the ground. A tire of a vehicle was on my right foot!
“Jesus!” I cried out. I instinctively hit the vehicle repeatedly, yelling all the while, “Get off of my foot!”
Eventually the car did back up. It was then that I could see my foot was badly torn up and blood was flowing. A voice in the crowd said, “You need to get to a hospital.” I asked the faceless voice, “With who?”
Simultaneously, a hand reached down to help me up. “We’ll take you.” The man helped me into the Honda CRV. Esther, the driver, apologized; stating that she hadn’t even seen me. Her attention, instead, had been on the many vehicles at the intersection.
I was in so much pain. I saw that my Keens (the shoes I was wearing) had been badly ripped. As Esther drove me to Nairobi West Hospital, she put on some worship music. Focusing on the Lord calmed me down.
As the nurse cleaned my wound – about a five-inch triangle near the inside ankle – chunks of flesh fell off. Apparently, it had been pushed along and severely scraped on the pavement. I was given two injections, one for pain and one for tetanus. The doctor gave me five injections of local anesthetic as he did his best to stitch three particularly deep areas. Both legs, from the knees down, had much bruising and swelling. The doctor prescribed an antibiotic ointment, oral antibiotics, and pain reliever.
After paying the bill, Esther took me to Bishop’s and Margaret’s. I spent fifteen days at their place, where the whole family took incredibly great care of me. They have nursed me back to health in the past, and now they kindly did so again. In those early days, I did nothing but lie on the couch. I hobbled around solely to use the toilet and to go to bed. Kim and Karo both came to see me several times. They’re such a constant source of encouragement to me! Others also stopped in to see me.
Gradually, most of the bruises have disappeared. And slowly but surely, most of the swelling has gone down. The open wound got infected, though. That required lots of trips to see Dr. Chunge (you may remember he’s the one that treated me for typhus some time ago). He took a fairly aggressive approach in those initial days, giving me intravenous injections of double doses of antibiotics. He then shifted to oral antibiotics and additionally a course of steroids. The wound was soaked in hydrogen peroxide, the debris removed, and the wound dressed each time I went in. Chunge’s wife, Ruth, also loaned me a pair of crutches.
In the ensuing weeks, I spent nine days with Kim and his family. They took great care of me. It was wonderful to get to know each one of them better, including “sho sho” (Kim’s grandmother). Kim and I had lots and lots of time to chat about everything under the sun. An occasional Vervet or Sykes monkey would entertain us by scampering along their wall or stealing bananas from their backyard garden.
Then, I had fifteen days at a quiet guesthouse nestled in a secluded wooded area. It belongs to the McCloy’s - a family from my church. Amazingly, I didn’t even know them before this happened. But, isn’t it just like a loving God to always have little surprises in store for us? It was a delight to get to know their family. I joined them for lovely evening meals on a few occasions – including a scrumptious meal of thick pork chops one night, followed by homemade ice cream and peaches. I thoroughly enjoyed the serene surroundings. Butterflies, birds, and warthogs entertained me. Screaming hyraxes announced bedtime each night. An added bonus was Karo and Joy spending one night with me.
Just three days ago, I moved in with a gal, also from my church. Gaby (nickname of “Pip”) lives in a leafy suburb area near Karen. I look forward to getting to know her better, as well. There’s already ample evidence that she’s on a mission to thoroughly spoil me. She welcomed me that first night with a hot bubble bath. She’s prepared such meals as Red Snapper filets, with broccoli and beets. De-licious! Her compound is a virtual botanical garden. I know I will spend many hours soaking up its beauty!
The current status of the open wound is that the infection has cleared up and it’s almost closed up. Soon I’ll be able to return the crutches. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel!
I’ve been playing solitaire (Free Cell) now and then; I’ve done Sudoku and Codeword puzzles. I even did a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle. I’ve done lots of reading – both God’s Word and a few good books. I’ve had some great times of personal worship and have spent time in prayer.
Recently, I purposefully set aside an evening for an intimate time of worship. During that time, in the secret place with my God, He reassured me that He was with me on that fateful day. To be sure, His hand is ever on my life.
Oswald Chambers –
When we truly live in “the secret place,” it becomes impossible for us to doubt God. We become more sure of Him than of anyone or anything else. Enter into “the secret place,” and you will find that God was right in the middle of your everyday circumstances all the time.
After a simple breakfast of tea and bread - accompanied by Sara Groves’ and Fernando Ortega’s wonderful lyrics - we went to Karen Vineyard Church. The service was great, as was the fellowship afterwards. We chatted at length with our friends, Sam and Mike.
Around 2:30, Kim and I boarded a matatu. He dropped off for home at Langata and I continued on, carrying my duffle bag with me. As he alighted from the “mat”, I thought to myself, “He’s such a great friend!” We had spent the past week together; I was still on a high.
Arriving in town, I maneuvered the bustling, crowded streets with no problems, making my way to Coast Bus Lines booking office on Accra Road. After buying my ticket to Mombasa (for Wednesday), I returned the ticket agent’s kind smile and thanked him.
My next destination was to board a bus to Bishop and Margaret’s house. I was eager to see them and their family again. I always enjoy sharing stories with them and I was eager to tell them about finding our friend, Mark, at the refugee camp.
Throughout the day, it had repeatedly occurred to me that it was such a great day. Even as I left the booking office, I had the same thought. “This has been a great day!”
I was in one of the most congested areas of downtown Nairobi - an area, in fact, that many avoid. There are so many vehicles – town matatus, vehicles traveling upcountry, private cars, hand carts, bicycles, pedestrians, etc. One must be ever alert for potential pick-pockets. It cannot be overstated that the area is “chaotic” and “congested”.
Actually, there’s no way I can adequately describe the ever-present crowded conditions throughout much of Kenya. Whether it’s a home, a bed, a church, a small café, a public service vehicle, or a downtown Nairobi street… there never seems to be ample space to live, sleep, worship, eat, travel, drive, or walk. There are crowds of people everywhere.
As I crossed Duruma Road, I passed in front of a Honda CRV, admiring it as I did so. At this intersection, a building was being remodeled. Corrugated iron sheets had been mounted alongside the curb to keep people away from the construction zone. This pushed pedestrians into the street, as the sidewalk was completely blocked. Those of us on foot were forced to occupy and fight for the same space as the vehicles.
I contemplated stopping at Baker’s Inn for a quick snack, maybe a chicken pie. It was now about 3:30 and I hadn’t had lunch. As I continued on my way, I remember going around a young gal that had been walking in front of me.
The very next realization I had was that of being on the ground. A tire of a vehicle was on my right foot!
“Jesus!” I cried out. I instinctively hit the vehicle repeatedly, yelling all the while, “Get off of my foot!”
Eventually the car did back up. It was then that I could see my foot was badly torn up and blood was flowing. A voice in the crowd said, “You need to get to a hospital.” I asked the faceless voice, “With who?”
Simultaneously, a hand reached down to help me up. “We’ll take you.” The man helped me into the Honda CRV. Esther, the driver, apologized; stating that she hadn’t even seen me. Her attention, instead, had been on the many vehicles at the intersection.
I was in so much pain. I saw that my Keens (the shoes I was wearing) had been badly ripped. As Esther drove me to Nairobi West Hospital, she put on some worship music. Focusing on the Lord calmed me down.
As the nurse cleaned my wound – about a five-inch triangle near the inside ankle – chunks of flesh fell off. Apparently, it had been pushed along and severely scraped on the pavement. I was given two injections, one for pain and one for tetanus. The doctor gave me five injections of local anesthetic as he did his best to stitch three particularly deep areas. Both legs, from the knees down, had much bruising and swelling. The doctor prescribed an antibiotic ointment, oral antibiotics, and pain reliever.
After paying the bill, Esther took me to Bishop’s and Margaret’s. I spent fifteen days at their place, where the whole family took incredibly great care of me. They have nursed me back to health in the past, and now they kindly did so again. In those early days, I did nothing but lie on the couch. I hobbled around solely to use the toilet and to go to bed. Kim and Karo both came to see me several times. They’re such a constant source of encouragement to me! Others also stopped in to see me.
Gradually, most of the bruises have disappeared. And slowly but surely, most of the swelling has gone down. The open wound got infected, though. That required lots of trips to see Dr. Chunge (you may remember he’s the one that treated me for typhus some time ago). He took a fairly aggressive approach in those initial days, giving me intravenous injections of double doses of antibiotics. He then shifted to oral antibiotics and additionally a course of steroids. The wound was soaked in hydrogen peroxide, the debris removed, and the wound dressed each time I went in. Chunge’s wife, Ruth, also loaned me a pair of crutches.
In the ensuing weeks, I spent nine days with Kim and his family. They took great care of me. It was wonderful to get to know each one of them better, including “sho sho” (Kim’s grandmother). Kim and I had lots and lots of time to chat about everything under the sun. An occasional Vervet or Sykes monkey would entertain us by scampering along their wall or stealing bananas from their backyard garden.
Then, I had fifteen days at a quiet guesthouse nestled in a secluded wooded area. It belongs to the McCloy’s - a family from my church. Amazingly, I didn’t even know them before this happened. But, isn’t it just like a loving God to always have little surprises in store for us? It was a delight to get to know their family. I joined them for lovely evening meals on a few occasions – including a scrumptious meal of thick pork chops one night, followed by homemade ice cream and peaches. I thoroughly enjoyed the serene surroundings. Butterflies, birds, and warthogs entertained me. Screaming hyraxes announced bedtime each night. An added bonus was Karo and Joy spending one night with me.
Just three days ago, I moved in with a gal, also from my church. Gaby (nickname of “Pip”) lives in a leafy suburb area near Karen. I look forward to getting to know her better, as well. There’s already ample evidence that she’s on a mission to thoroughly spoil me. She welcomed me that first night with a hot bubble bath. She’s prepared such meals as Red Snapper filets, with broccoli and beets. De-licious! Her compound is a virtual botanical garden. I know I will spend many hours soaking up its beauty!
The current status of the open wound is that the infection has cleared up and it’s almost closed up. Soon I’ll be able to return the crutches. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel!
I’ve been playing solitaire (Free Cell) now and then; I’ve done Sudoku and Codeword puzzles. I even did a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle. I’ve done lots of reading – both God’s Word and a few good books. I’ve had some great times of personal worship and have spent time in prayer.
Recently, I purposefully set aside an evening for an intimate time of worship. During that time, in the secret place with my God, He reassured me that He was with me on that fateful day. To be sure, His hand is ever on my life.
Oswald Chambers –
When we truly live in “the secret place,” it becomes impossible for us to doubt God. We become more sure of Him than of anyone or anything else. Enter into “the secret place,” and you will find that God was right in the middle of your everyday circumstances all the time.
3 comments:
Good grief, mom! Glad you're "ok" and am also soooo glad that people were with you and that you have friends there to help you through the healing process!!
I agree with Naomi. You were hit by the Crv? someone you know? Trust you are on your way to a complete healing! PTL
Hey Deb...
What an adventure, if that's what you call it! When our bus caught on fire in the Rift Valley, that's what I chose to call it, "an adventure!" Then sit back and ask God, "What was that all about?" Actually heard about your adventure through our Kenya team before they returned...been praying for you and will continue to lift you up, especially your prayer requests. Kiki and Amy are speaking tonight at church. Looking forward to hearing about their trip. Also, Josiah is coming here for about a month...arrives Oct. 12th. Really looking forward to seeing him. He is my Kenyan son!! God bless and keep you. Love from Magnolia Avenue...
Wafula
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