"There's a trick to the graceful exit...We own what we learned back there. The experiences and the growth are grafted onto our lives. And when we exit, we can take ourselves along — quite gracefully."
Say hello to one of my very favorite little boys, Benson. You can't see it in this picture, but he has a ring of light blue pigment around the center of his eyes with dark brown centers. It makes for some very striking and beautiful eyes. He is the most precious thing - and ornery. He can be a little troublemaker but all in all he is a sweet kid. He just likes to give you a good shove every now and then when you're not paying attention to him and then he makes silly faces at you during devotions when you're supposed to be serious. :)
And this would be Johnson, Benson's partner in crime. He seems to be glued to my hip at times but is a very reserved little boy until you get him to playing a game or just generally give him your undivided attention. Then the smile comes out.
"Kot-ney, you are very quiet today. Ah you alright?"
"Yes, I'm just concentrating really hard on keeping my lunch down."
Okay, so maybe that wasn't really my answer - I simply lied and said I'm fine. But I sure was thinking that. I haven't been beyond the four walls of the village since I arrived last Saturday, and so the village director, Yeen-Lan, asked I go with her to the market, which was just a few miles up the road. I thought those few miles were going to kill me though. The roads are atrocious in Nairobi, with potholes big enough to swallow a car it seems. I barely made it past the gate and I could already tell I this was not going to end well. Me, bumpy roads, and in a car equals a bad combination. It was too late for Dramamine at this point. After crossing several goat crossings and wondering how anybody drives in this country, we made it to the market. Yeen-Lan was kind enough to let me sit in the front seat on the way back, which made it mildly better. But by the time we made it back to the village, I just had to lay down for awhile and hope the room stopped spinning at some point.
But you can bet I didn't leave that store without first grabbing a Snickers, a bag of chips, chocolate muffins, and chocolate cookies. Hey, something has got to redeem the ridiculous amount of beans I've been eating. I think I've eaten more beans in the last 5 days than I have ever eaten in my entire life or will ever eat. I'd rather eat rice for every meal than eat beans at any point. While the African food has been an experience, and not all together a bad one, it doesn't change the fact that I have wanted pizza, mashed potatoes, and steak more than ever. Take note, family - one of those items will be on the menu as soon as I get in the door.
Apart from all of the adventures in food, I'm really wishing that the gecko that was in my shower and is now in my closet would go away and find a new home. I don't particularly want to put clothes on one morning and find him there.
I thought I was going to start a riot today when I pulled out my photo album with pictures from home. I had just a few kids with me at first, showing them and explaining each of the pictures and then it was like I became the Pied Piper and they all just started showing up. I made the mistake of sitting on the ground while showing the pictures so I became like a jungle gym in a matter of minutes. I thought I was going to suffocate under a pile of African children. And not everybody would come to see them all at once, so kids would come in at different points in the album and each time, they would say, "Start over! Start over! I missed the first part!" I must have gone through that album at least half a dozen times. After dinner, other children must have caught wind that I had photos and they would come up ask me to show them my photos. I eventually just had to tell them no because I knew it was going to be an endless cycle and quite honestly, I was tired of repeating myself.
After my photo album riot and some general playtime, I went to one of the cottages to have devotions with the children. Here's how the village is set up, to give you some understanding. There are 91 children here, with roughly ten cottages now, separated boys and girls, with nine or so kids in each. Each cottage has a "mama," a single woman who is a native Kenyan who has made a sacrifice to live with and raise these children as her own. She literally is their mother, it's not simply an 8-5 job. She lives with them, eats with them, disciplines them, cares for them. So at night, each cottage has their own devotional time, led by their mama. Tonight I went to Joppa cottage for their devotional. They generally sing a few songs and then the mama reads from the Bible and then discusses it for a bit, offering the kids some basic application.
Well, tonight I sat squeezed between David and Michael. I'm pretty sure if you put Michael in a furry suit with just his face sticking out, he would look like an Ewok from Star Wars, and I don't say that to be funny just that the kid is so stinking cute. But poor David - the kid nearly had me in tears from both laughing and crying. We started singing a song which I can't remember which and this kid just let loose. I mean, he was belting it for all he was worth and I nearly started laughing out loud and had to work so hard at keeping it in. He was just so oblivious to how loud he was singing. But it was so beautiful and so precious. And then I wanted to cry because hearing these kids sing about Jesus both in English and in Swahili was just one of the sweetest and most sincere sounds. They sang with a heart that was genuine, even at 3 or 4 years old. The mama asked me at the end to share with them anything I had on my heart and I just had to tell them how grateful I was to be with them and to hear their beautiful voices. And I genuinely meant it.
In other news - be praying for the country as a whole right now. Kenya will be voting on a new constitution tomorrow. I've only a limited understanding of what it means, but from what I've been told the current president promised the country would have a new constituion within his first 100 days in office. That was 7 years ago. There is division, no doubt, as to who is for and who is against. But it will carry hefty implications depending on the outcome.
So tonight at dinner, I totally thought this kid was being a champ by hiding his food in his milk cup. They served this stuff called oo-gall-ee (I have no idea how it's actually spelled), which basically amounts to this weird flour/mashed potato like consistency, but packed hard, with zero flavor. I was watching him out of the corner my eye and I saw him take a few spoonfuls, look around, and then dump it in his milk cup. I thought, "You are my hero because that is totally what I want to do right now." So I tried to discreetly keep watching him and every once and awhile he would add more. I was super excited that the kid had the nerve to get away with it because they are instructed to eat every last bite, but here was somebody getting away with not doing it! But then my happiness in watching this unfold was crushed when I watched him dump it back onto his plate and finish eating it all. Maybe that will be my tactic for the next time I go to dinner and either can't eat it all or don't want to eat it.
My grandmother and I had a discussion the other day while we husked nearly 9 dozen ears of corn that neither of us would have made good pioneers. I'm pretty sure my oxen would have died while fording the river, my family would have gotten typhoid, and I would have said "this is crazy, I'm going home." And I would have chucked the skirts in the process and invented denim jeans. While life in Africa has been good so far - the whole three days that I've been here - I already want to spend my days in a pair of jeans and a hoodie sweatshirt rather than a skirt. But you know, I guess we're just going to have to deal.
But anyway - so what's the latest? Well, in case anyone was wondering 3 o'clock in the morning in Kenya looks the same as it does in America. Not a single difference. It's a ridiculous hour either way. I experienced it last night for the second night in a row as my body tries valiantly to adjust to the time difference. We're not succeeding so far. I was up from about midnight to 4 a.m., asking myself whether I should eat my last oatmeal chocolate chip cookie or save it for later when I'm really desperate. I chose to eat it. And then I picked up Lord of the Rings - Return of the King. It's the only book I brought and I figured it's better than staring at my mosquito net for the next three hours and wondering what the heck is making that ridiculous noise outside my window. I eventually fell asleep and when I woke up at 7 I felt like I had been run over by a Mack truck. But the show must go on.
Today was the first official day of working with the staff. We have staff devotions every morning at 7:15 - this consists of the village director, who is a wonderful lady by the way, two of the other full-time staff, and several of the nationals who work for Rafiki as maintenance, kitchen, and laundry staff. We sing through a few hymns, then the director gives the morning devotion. They have been studying the book of Nehemiah so this morning we ended up in chapter 10. After that we break up into men's and women's groups and pray. The Africans pray so sincerely and with such depth, it almost caught me by surprise. I think in America it's easy for our prayers to become commonplace, every day life is so ordinary we forget just what a big deal it is to be living every day, and living every day with a God who is very real, very personal, and very near.
The rest of the day I spent with the new ChildCare Program Director, who has just moved from the village in Rwanda with her husband. The exciting thing about Kenya right now is that Rafiki is trying to put some major pieces of the puzzle together in terms of developing the Kenyan village as the model village and the model school in Kenya. Thus why they have some new staff coming as they will be key players in establishing this vision. We spent the day inventorying supplies, both in her office and in the storage room, trying to figure out what needs to stay, what needs to go, and what just has a big ol' question mark next to it.
It's been a long day, but good - very satisfying. The kind of day when you know when you get to sleep that night (if sleep should ever come in my case) that it will be the result of a hard day's work. We'll spend the evening having dinner with the kids and generally hanging out with them, and likely ending the evening being pyrotechnics as we just have some trash we need to burn. Hopefully I won't see 3 a.m. tonight.
There is no other way to say it other than to state the obvious - these kids are putting me to shame! Whether it's eating or running around or whatever it is we are doing, they are out-eating me (which, let's be honest, isn't hard to do), out-running me, and just generally out-smiling me (also not hard to do, as some people tend to think I have a perpetual frown on my face).
Most evenings after dinner, the kids have a general free time to play games and run around. I went out last night with them after dinner to play - I really had no idea how to begin because there were dozens of screaming kids running everywhere and I stood there looking like the typical lost American in a foreign country. I'm really intimidated by kids anyways so the fear alone of diving into these kids lives is enough to paralyze me fairly often. But then I thought, "You know, you've only got one shot at this, Courtney - thirty days to soak this up and to be a part of their lives. So you better figure out a way to deal - and fast." So somehow or another, I worked up the gumption to waltz into a game of tag. Okay, waltzing probably isn't the best word. Clearly, we're running at this point.
And then it was like I couldn't get enough. Tag morphed into Red Rover, which morphed into Red Light/Green Light, which morphed into London Bridges, which morphed into general exhaustion. I'm out of shape as it is (anybody who spends a fair amount of time with me knows of my aversion to physical exercise) and being up nearly 5,000 feet in elevation makes the breathing even harder. So we had barely begun and I was already out of breath and so I squatted down for a second and all of the kids swarmed around me in a circle. I had my chin propped up on my hands and then they all started mimicking me and laughing, each of them squatting down and doing the same thing - all with the biggest smiles pasted on their faces, knowing full well they were making fun of me. Then I jumped up and scared the living daylights out of them and they scattered to the four winds.
When I originally went out to play, I still had my skirt and slip-on shoes. That definitely doesn't work when you are trying to catch a bunch of screaming kids. So I told them to hold on a few minutes and I'll go change. The cottage that I'm staying in was across from the basketball court where we were playing, with a few shrubs and trees in between. When I walked back out of the cottage, I could see this line of little heads peeking out from behind trees and bushes. They were waiting for me, and watching. Nearly made me want to cry my eyes out right there.
And in terms out out-eating me. Good grief, I've got half a bowl of food left and they managed to wolf down an entire bowl and then some. Some of these kids are pint-size and can barely reach the top of the table, but they've got spoons the size of their hands and can't shovel fast enough. The first few meals have been slightly awkward in the fact that I'm still picking up on some social cues. Cue #1 - don't talk while eating. The kids would be asking all sorts of questions before the meal - "How did you get here?" "How many planes did you take?" "Where are you from?" "How long will you be here?" And then the food would be set out and it's like they all became mute. And then they would eat in silence and as soon as plates are cleared, "Where are you going now?" "Are you going to come play with us?"
All in all, so far so good. The plan is to help with administrative tasks while I'm here. There is a new long-term couple that just moved here from Rwanda and the wife is the childcare director, so she definitely needs help getting settled and sorting through papers that she has inherited. I'll be working with her primarily and then pick up other duties as they come up. I know this trip isn't all about fun and games and at the end of it, I'll be gone but these kids are still here in Africa and there is a life here that they still have to deal with.
Well, I have arrived. Literally. After busting out of Columbus at 6 a.m. yesterday morning, I am now in Nairobi enjoying the view from my temporary home. And let's just say right off the bat - PRAISE JESUS! The craziest thing happened to me. I got on a plane in Columbus that left on time. I got on a plane in D.C. that left on time. I got on a plane in Ethiopia that left on time. And miracle of all miracles, both of my bags were waiting for me at the Nairobi airport. Can you believe that?! With my awful flying history I thought for sure I was going to be late, miss connections and have to live out of my carry-on for the month. But no, all those prayers that people had been praying about the flight were surely answered! Thank you!
But apart from all that - 1.) I realized how much it stinks flying by yourself just for the sheer fact that there is no one to turn and say, "Did you see what I think I saw?" Take for instance, the woman sitting next to me on the plane ride from DC to Ethiopia. Older woman, maybe in her 70s, of African descent. One of the first meals we were served was roast beef and some funky looking potatoes and squash, with a fabulous piece of cheesecake. Now I could be wrong - I mean, we're up 35,000 feet and I'm medicated on Dramamine, but I'm pretty sure she put her cheesecake in with her roast beef. No, I'm not joking. I had to do a double-take, but I promise that's what she did. At first I thought it was her bread, but no it was the cheesecake. It's kind of hard to mistake the swirls on the topping. But you know, to each her own I guess. I will have to remember the phrase that everyone adopts while overseas, 'It's not good or bad, it's just different.' Clearly.
And 2.) speaking of plane food, I'm just so grateful for bread and dessert because what's in between in usually questionable. If all else goes wrong and you can't figure out what they put in front of you, just eat the bread and the chocolate dessert. It's hard to mess those two things up so it's usually a safe bet. My saving grace on these plane rides were those two things and the homemade chocolate chip oatmeal cookies that I hoped and prayed no security person would take from me for some reason.
3.) I will never drive a car in Nairobi. You only do that if you want to die and I don't want to die. So I'll let someone else do the driving. I passed all sorts of wildlife on the road to the village - and by wildlife, I mean a lot of goats, with an occasional pig and a herd of cattle. No lions yet.
4.) This adventure is just beginning! Stayed tuned for further stories from the world of Nairobi - and leave a comment and let me know who's reading!
Meet Alex. She is one of my very best friends, despite her affinity for things such as P90X, half-marathons, "healthy cookies" that contain cranberries, oatmeal, and Splenda, and being chronically late, none of which I am a fan. In the words of Pastor Brad, she is one the "least self-promoting people I know," meaning Alex quietly goes about her business and is content to do it without fanfare or recognition. But I can't let her off the hook that easy. You see, Alex is leaving for a trip overseas the same day I am - she's headed to Germany to do research for THE Ohio State University, likewise for a month.
She came over last night for a little bit, catching up before we both head out the door and across The Pond. We've gone back and forth with each other, asking questions and telling each other, "Did you get this done? GET YOUR PASSPORT! Were you able to get your global phone? Are you taking this with you? Why are you taking your rock climbing gear? GET YOUR PASSPORT!" (Alex was the one dragging her feet about getting her passport and I had to keep harassing her about it - she's also the one taking rock climbing gear.) We spent last night giving each other pep talks about the trip and flying by ourselves and how we were going to manage it all. We talked through a lot of fears and all the things that could possibly go wrong and Alex finally said, quite seriously but with half of a smirk, "Courtney. You and I are both big girls, we are Girl Scouts [not literally, but meaning we are resourceful gals and have got a lick of sense] and if something does go wrong or we miss a flight or something gets lost, we'll figure it out. We open our mouths and we ask, 'Do you speak English?' No, okay. 'Do you speak English?' Okay, moving on...' It'll all be okay and we'll make it. If God has called us to this, he'll get us there then. Now, it might take a few days or he may get us there in a roundabout way, but we will get there." By this time I had the giggles so bad envisioning the two of us standing in airports somewhere trying to figure out where the heck we are supposed to be and wondering if we missed our flight.
Yes, we will get there and it will be like Beth Moore said when talking about her own recent trip to Africa and all of the complications that went along with: We'll turn to the Father and say, "I would not have missed this for the world."
I try to avoid checking baggage like some people avoid taking out the trash, doing the dishes, or catching the plague. I don't remember the last time I checked luggage - years probably. I've had one too many encounters of misdirected luggage to bother anymore. If I can't cram it into a carry-on, then it's not going. Simple enough. When I went to Russia, I had my orange backpack, weighing maybe 20-30 pounds, and one piece of checked luggage (this was pre- anti-checking luggage days) that weighed a mere 16 pounds. And we were there for 7 weeks. Oh trust me, it's possible. The wonder of Ziploc bags can work miracles. Unpacking my suitcase that summer was like watching circus clowns pile out of their clown car. You were amazed at how much stuff was packed in there. And honestly, when you travel a lot and are in-and-out of airports, you realize quickly that half the staff you pack you don't need. I thankfully learned that early on in my travel days.
That plan isn't working for this trip. Two suitcases, a carry-on backpack, and a purse later - with a bathroom scale to prove it - I think I have everything I need. All 100 pounds of it. Now, granted, 50 pounds of that belongs to the village as I'm carrying supplies over for them. Hopefully I don't get stopped in customs and have to unpack any one of these.
Somehow I don't think I'll be accumulating 50 pounds of souvenirs for the trip home, unless I find a really stupendous piece of artwork or a small lion cub, so I should be able to stuff the smaller suitcase in the bigger one and call it a day. And check only one bag. Still one more than I would like, but I can't do anything about it. At least I've got some really great pink polka dot ribbon to flag my bags and matching Delta Gamma tags.
Now I'm just wondering whose bright idea it was to go to Africa for a month. Nerves are setting in.
I've been reading (surprise!) Donald Miller's latest book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years and I have to say it's pretty stellar. It's given me a lot to think about and I actually just need to go get my own copy as I originally just checked it out from the library - with my own copy then I can highlight things and write in it, and go back to refer to it months from now.
There's a lot I could say about the book, but for now I'll just leave you with a few quotes from it:
We live in a world where bad stories are told, stories that teach us life doesn’t mean anything and that humanity has no great purpose. It’s a good calling, then, to speak a better story. How brightly a better story shines. How easily the world looks to it in wonder. How grateful we are to hear these stories, and how happy it makes us to repeat them.
It’s interesting that in the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes, the only practical advice given about living a meaningful life is to find a job you like, enjoy your marriage, and obey God. It’s as though God is saying, Write a good story, take somebody with you, and let me help.
Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won’t be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast.
Back then I’d be lying in bed or walking down a hallway at college, and the realization I was alive would startle me, as though it had come up from behind and slammed two books together. We get robbed of the glory of life because we aren’t capable of remembering how we got here…what I’m saying is I think life is staggering and we’re just used to it. We all are like spoiled children no longer impressed with the gifts we’ve been given – it’s just another sunset, another rainstorm moving in over the mountain, just another child being born, just another funeral.
If you watched a movie about a guy who wanted a Volvo and worked for years to get it, you wouldn’t cry at the end when he drove off the lot, testing the windshield wipers. You wouldn’t tell your friends you saw a beautiful movie or go home and put a record on to think about the story you’d seen. The truth is, you wouldn’t remember that movie a week later, except you’d feel robbed and want your money back. Nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who wants a Volvo. But we spend years actually living those stories, and expect our lives to feel meaningful. The truth is, if what we choose to do with our lives won’t make a story meaningful, it won’t make a life meaningful either.
