The threat of rain -- and mud -- loomed in my mind the entire day.
In rural Kenya, rain is very
much considered a blessing. It waters and nourishes the maize (corn) and other
crops; the landscape is covered with gorgeous and stunning shades of green.
Rain also means mud.
For a variety of reasons,
we had gotten a late start to our long list of errands and shopping. As Agnes
met me in Kitale town, just as the daily downpour was petering out, we had a
quick -- albeit late -- lunch of githeri (beans and corn), chips, and soda. We then moved at a
rapid pace to complete our to-do list, splitting up for some of it.
We purchased groceries,
Tony’s back-to-school shopping, and items for the farm: a wheelbarrow, two bags
of cement, a bag of lime, a roll of chicken wire, a few cans of paint, 26 tree
seedlings, etc. Each stop was fraught with frustrations and s-l-o-w assistants.
Kitale is always crowded -- the streets, the sidewalks and the shops -- and most especially so
when schools re-open. We were (unfortunately) doing our shopping on the week that schools re-opened across the country for second term.
Goods from hardware and
clothing shops spill out onto the sidewalks in an attempt to entice customers
inside. Fresh produce vendors take up what little sidewalk space might remain. I have gotten quite adept at maneuvering the obstacles and crowds at a quick pace; Agnes did her
best to keep up.
The hardware shop owners wait on two or three people at a
time, barking orders at their workers while we customers do our best to make
our needs known. Pushing a trolley (cart) in the grocery store requires a
balance of patience and politeness, along with some determined aggressiveness. One
must put irritation aside and just make due with the situation of massive amounts
of humanity squeezed in the narrow aisles.
After finishing at the
Agro-Forestry compound and the hardware store, I left Agnes to do the grocery
and school shopping and forced my way through the crowd outside in the
alleyways to a taxi stand. After an anxious wait, I finally secured an available
driver. We had to collect our goods at four different places, now fighting our
way through the traffic of the ever-bustling town streets.
We eventually finished loading
at 6:00pm. After fueling the car, we were finally on our way, with our goods
filling the back of the small station wagon. Agnes and I squeezed our bodies into the
single front passenger seat. Being in the middle, she had to squeeze her legs
to the left so the driver, Titus, could freely access the gear-shifter.
Immediately as we turned
off the highway at Maili Saba, Titus expressed his apprehension
about the road. He informed us early that if we discovered it had rained near
River Nzoia, he would not even attempt to cross the bridge or climb the hill after it. In previous rainy seasons, I had seen private
cars, tractors, and lorries stuck in the muddy ditch on that very hill; I understood his pronouncement.
Agnes had already told me that
it had rained while she was on her way to meet me. When we actually experienced
the resulting M-U-D-D-Y road, it was readily apparent that Titus' prediction was
accurate. Fortunately he was a mature man and an experienced driver; he handled
the situation well. My goodness! We slipped and slid back and forth the entire
distance from the highway to the river.
With my eyes glued to the scene unfolding through the windshield, I stayed quiet and prayed.
My concern was not only for his car and our safety, but also… what would Agnes
and I do next? By now it was almost dark.
A few meters before the
bridge, Titus refused to go any further. I asked Agnes if there was any place
we could spend the night at the very small Riverside market area.
As we discussed our options, a boda
boda (motorbike taxi driver) friend of mine, Joseph, came up to the car. He convinced Titus to at least cross the bridge and rallied a few guys to help unload our goods. I paid and
thanked Titus.
It was now dark… and it was now sprinkling.
A kind friend and neighbor
of Agnes’ agreed to store some of our goods overnight. Some guys carried the heavy bags
of cement and lime, and the tree seedlings into his small medical clinic. Agnes convinced me we could make it
to her house; after all, there certainly isn't a hotel at the small market.
Adu, her middle son,
happened to be there with his bike. He loaded up the wheelbarrow with the paint
and groceries and somehow managed -- with sheer determination -- to push it barefooted in the mud. Agnes pushed the bike
with the rolls of chicken and binding wire tied on the back. I trudged along with my
heavy backpack and Agnes’ handbag.
Ai, ai, ai, ai! Did we ever
have a difficult time!
It was pitch-black, with
no moon and no stars. The sprinkles had become legitimate rain. We walked on the sopping wet and muddy
footpaths, me wearing nothing more than flip-flops. The task was extremely frustrating.
My goodness, the going was
beyond hard. Placing one foot in front of the other required complete concentration. The
mud was as slippery as soft butter! Because my heavy backpack made me quite top-heavy, I knew I could go down so easily in a split-second.
I tried to maintain a
stiff upper lip, but my confidence in not falling waned by the minute.
Additionally, I was concerned about various items in my very non-waterproof backpack… not the least
of which was my new laptop. Having no choice but to accept the fact that the
situation was out of my control, I asked God to protect my valuables.
Just about when I’d had it
with the conditions, Joseph suddenly showed up again, offering to carry me on
his motorbike. After convincing me that he was sure he could manage, I climbed on. I
opened my umbrella and tried to hold it over my backpack. Because we were
forced to move quite slowly, there wasn't any wind to blow it open.
Joseph had to constantly use his
feet to keep us steady and upright. I held on tight with my remaining hand… and
I prayed! I asked the Lord to help Joseph focus and to not let us fall. I asked Jesus to figuratively hold my hand. I prayed for
Agnes and Adu, who were somewhere behind us facing their own set of challenges
and difficulties... and without the assistance of a headlight.
After what seemed an
eternity, Joseph and I reached a spot where there used
to be a homemade bridge made out of several palm tree trunks. The only problem is
that a couple of them had been washed away with the rapid current below. Joseph
parked his motorbike and proclaimed he could go no further.
By this time I was
barefoot, as my flip-flops were beyond useless in the sticky, slimy mud. I was
still afraid of slipping and falling - - only now with the added issue of gushing,
roaring water beneath me!
Joseph held out his hand and reassuringly convinced me to grab a hold
and come across.
It may sound corny, but I
sincerely felt like I held the hand of Jesus as I crossed over that tree trunk!
God had literally answered my repeated prayer.
Now quite wet and muddy, I
was more than a bit demoralized, plus physically and emotionally exhausted by
the situation. I had no idea where Agnes and Adu were, as there are many panya
routes (shortcuts) to her house. I didn't know the way in the pitch-black
darkness.
And I did not like the idea of now being on my feet again… without the security of Joseph and his
motorbike.
I had him ask at a nearby
strangers’ house if I could spend the night with them. They were a bit taken
aback by a mzungu (white person) and total stranger entering their one-room home, as they
sat quietly eating their dinner of ugali (dry corn meal). However, like typical
Kenyans, they warmly invited me in and agreed to let me sleep there.
Just as Joseph was about
to head home, Agnes arrived. She greeted the elderly couple and promised
we would visit another time. She encouraged me, stating confidently that we
weren't far and that we could indeed
make it to her house. Ever since I've known her, I have admired her tenacity and determination in spite of all odds.
Sure enough, I managed to
stay on my feet and we arrived at her house at long last. Her other four boys were glad to see us, having had no idea of our whereabouts.
The three of us were
soaked, muddy, and cold… but our ordeal was over!
While Agnes quickly prepared tea to warm and cheer us, I unpacked my backpack. With the light of just my
small flashlight, I discovered that my clothes and several other items were
somewhat wet. I spread things out or hung them up to dry as best I could in my
little bedroom. The good news is - - my laptop, camera, and phone were fine.
Experiences like this -- and they have been many over the course of almost 12 years in this foreign land -- help me understand a bit of the various difficult conditions that poor, rural
Kenyans endure on almost a daily basis. There are no proper roads; in fact,
getting to Agnes’ house involves a myriad of meandering routes that are often nothing more
than crude footpaths. Combine that with not having your own car (a wonderful
protection from the elements) and no streetlights (there is, in fact, no electricity). Perhaps then you can begin to get a glimpse of their daily challenges.
God sent me to Kenya with
a simple mandate: to love my neighbor, especially single parents and
single-parent children. I am here to 'do life' together with the handful of folks to whom God has supernaturally
connected me. My mission is to celebrate the fun times with these friends…
and to walk through the difficult and hard times with them. We laugh and we cry; we struggle and we succeed.
We share life.
I am here to serve God…
even when it involves trudging through the mud.
- - - - - -
“I reckon on you you for extreme service, with no complaining on your part and no explanation on Mine."
Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest
"Do not fear, for I am with you. Do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you. I will uphold you with my victorious right hand."
Isaiah 41:10, NRSV Bible
"If you're in a storm -- if you're facing struggle after struggle after struggle -- look for God's encouragement. He doesn't take us out of the danger, he just gives us encouragement in it."
Jon Parsons, Acts 27, Karen Vineyard, Nairobi Kenya
“It is a beautiful thing when folks in poverty are no longer just a missions project but become genuine friends and family with whom we laugh, cry, dream, and struggle.”
Shane Claiborne, Irresistible Revolution
"Stay conscious of Me as you go through this day, remembering that I never leave your side. Let the Holy Spirit guide you step by step, protecting you from unnecessary trials and equipping you to get through whatever must be endured. As you trudge through the sludge of this fallen world, keep your mind in heavenly places with Me."
Sarah Young, Jesus Calling
“I am ready for anything and equal to anything through him who infuses inner strength into me; I am self-sufficient in Christ’s sufficiency. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.”
Philippians 4:3, Amplified and Message versions
"The things that make God dear to us are not so much His great big blessings as the tiny things, because they show His amazing intimacy with us; He knows every detail of our individual lives."
Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest
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| The daily 2:00 o'clock rain rolls in, across the valley from Agnes' farm |
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| The ground was beyond saturated! |
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| Photo taken a few days later, in Eldoret, after another rather muddy boda boda ride |
