Relationships

12-2

           

            It feels like it was so long ago that I was in Kenya. It’s only been two weeks. Being outside my Fremont bubble has given me an outlook on relationships within a culture. One thing I have observed is that relationships are so important. It doesn’t matter where you are from. A hearty slap of the hands handshake and a huge smile from 70 yr old women in rural Kenya. A kiss on either side of the cheek here in Italy. Grown men holding hands walking down the crowded streets of Nakuru is a way to show those around that this is my buddy and he’s with me. Afghan young men playing cards for hours with a cup of tea. Young Kenyan men and women playing with their friends hands and ears as if this is my brother or sister. Paul tells his Christian friends to greet each other with a holy kiss. Not just any kiss, but a HOLY kiss. The longing of having relationships within the same sex and with the opposite sex is part of human DNA. It’s as if we were made to have relationship. Like the Maker of humans has relationship in his DNA as well. Like we were made to have relationship with each other. Like we were made to have relationship with the Maker. The relationship with the Maker calls us to have holy relationships that cross cultural barriers. Kisses, handshakes, hugs, winks, good games, pounds, smiles. These are all very special. And when the Maker is involved they become holy, and suddenly a kiss that would normally make a person in a Fremont bubble feel uncomfortable suddenly makes him feel that this is the most natural thing created and know that divine relationship transcends space and time.

           

            

One of the last posts

11-26

            Went to the train station a couple nights ago and handed out tea to the refugees and any other homeless people. There was another group there handing out meals. It was cold. It’s been getting down to the low 40s, upper 30s at night. Went to the Pantheon last night. Wow wow!!! That thing is amazing. Went for a run this morning. Had no idea where I was. Good things about getting lost on runs: 1) You often go farther than you originally planned. 2) You get to see some cool stuff. 3) You learn your way around a bit better.

            Now Khalid, a refugee who has been here for 10 months, is at Danielle’s cooking some food for lunch.

            I was riding the bus but didn’t get a ticket. I had an expired one from a few hours before in my pocket. Periodically an officer in regular clothes would come on and check people’s tickets. I had not experienced this until tonight when I did not have a ticket. I was sitting there near the back of a bus when all of a sudden a man pulls out a badge and hangs it around his neck. I see people pulling out their tickets. I suddenly felt really hot and went to the back of a bus. We were 25 seconds away from departing. After a few seconds he got to me. I stood for a moment then reached into my pocket and pulled out the ticket that I forgot was in there and attempted to show him only the front of it without the date and time side. He took it from me. We were 10 seconds from the doors opening up at our stop. He looked at it. I was deciding in my mind at that point what I was going to do. Danielle was at the other door ready to get off. Would I stall and then make a run for it when the doors opened? Would I try to pretend like I gave him the wrong ticket? Would I stand there looking at him like I was dumb (which wouldn’t be terribly hard)? He finally gave it back to me, the doors opened and I walked away without looking back. It was a miracle from God. I don’t know if he only saw the date and not the time. Was pretending to look. Or was he just merciful. Either way I was relieved and bought a ticket for the ride back. Hahaha.

            Went to the English class tonight. It was fun trying to communicate with some of the older ladies.

11-29

            Saw the Pantheon, Spanish Steps, Tiber River, walked a bunch, ran a little when I didn’t want to stuff myself into the bus (I arrived 3 miles later faster than the bus), had good conversations with some of the refugee guys, bought a hat and scarf, had Thanksgiving last night at one of the missionary’s house (that was nice), painted Danielle’s new apartment. Excited to be getting home soon. 

Travels

11-20

            I am now in Rome, Italy. It’s been raining. I think I took the rain from Nakuru with me. My plane landed a little late in Rome. Then it took 30 min or more for luggage to come out. Fortunately my bag was one of the first. It was THE first to come out from Kenya to Amsterdam. I gave a little cheer. It’s the little things in life that make me happy. By the time I got to the train station at the airport there were no more trains going to Roma Tuscolana where Danielle would come get me. So I had to get on a van shuttle where it would take me to the Central train station. At the station (now 11 pm) I waited in customer service line, which was not moving. There was a man there wearing a little badge. I don’t know how official it was. But he asked where I was going, looked at the schedule, and said there were no more trains going that way. He said, “I will call my guy.” Ummm…ok. I went to the taxis to see how much it would cost to get me there, and they just said it depends on the meter. I forgot that this was not Kenya, and there are such things as meters. So I went back to the guy and his guy showed up. I was being watchful the whole time, getting ready to bust out my kung fu if need be. Judo chop some folks. But the guy got me to my destination and even let me use his phone to call Danielle. It was expensive but whatever. So after 1 hr of sleep in 23 hrs I hit the hay in the comforts of an Italian apartment but only slept for 6 hrs. Ran a couple errands with Danielle the next day. Met some missionary friends during Chinese dinner. Good people. Went with Danielle to a class where she teaches English for free to about 30-40 people. Most of them are a bit older. That was fun helping them with some grammar and trying to hold a bit of a conversation. I think the percentage of people who speak English in Kenya is higher than Italy. Interesting. I slept at a man named Brian’s house last night. He has been in Italy for 4 or 5 years doing some good stuff here. His wife is out of town and let me stay. I’m about to go to the Colosseum. Hopefully it won’t start raining again. And I don’t get lost. It’s a few miles away. Cheerio.

            Wow! Ancient Rome is amazing. Italy has been the number one place I have always wanted to visit since I was a kid. Now that I’m here, it’s a bit surreal. It is beautiful in a totally different way than Kenya. The architecture and art are amazing. I walked into some gigantic church, and there was this sense of reverence. It’s strange for me though. This building is extraordinary with all its marble statues, floors, walls, pillars. The walls are painted wonderfully. The amount of detail is baffling. Knowing that there were probably thousands of workers that put their time and energy into that thing is amazing. But at the same time, here is this church in all its beauty and glory giving praise to popes, the disciples, angels, and whoever else I don’t even know without much of a mention to Jesus, the Son of God. I bet if the disciples saw that they are immortalized in marble, they would be disgusted. Plus on top of that, the pope at the time (just an assumption) commissioned this to be made. Whose money was used to build this? All those men, women, and children who were probably misled into believing that giving more of their money will get them into heaven as they were struggling to make ends meat. Giving money to a church shouldn’t be about making huge monuments. So here I was sitting in this place in awe and wondering, “Where is Jesus?”

            I think pretty much all the men are good looking here with their nice clothes, quality, model haircut, and well-trimmed beards. WHATEVER!!! And I think all the women are beautiful. I’m learning that women (young and old) are captivating. It doesn’t matter where you are from either. Kenya, America, Italy. Doesn’t matter.

11-22

            Went to the place last night where the refugees come and have tea, play cards, learn English or Italian, and whatever else. Danielle organizes it and some of the local missionaries and some locals come to help. I sat at a table and watched these guys play cards then talked to a few guys. One is from Ghana. He left for more opportunity. One is from Pakistan and is a computer engineer by way of Moscow. Another is from Afghanistan and learned English in just a few months when he came to Italy. I’m learning more and more that a lot of the world knows more than one language. Not so much me. A couple of the guys met my mom and step-dad when they were here in July. That’s pretty cool.

            This morning Brian, the guy I’ve been staying with for the last few days while his wife is at a human trafficking conference, took me on a 45 min run that went along the ancient Appian Way. That was cool. Seeing the ancient houses and ruins on a run is spectacular. There’s a part of the road that has the original paver stones. That’s just amazing to me.

            Got my first gelato in Italy. Stracciatella. It was raining, a slight drizzle. I walked out of that little place with a smile on my face. God has given me so much. So much that I don’t deserve. Walking home I could only think, “Here I am in Italy. This is one of the biggest most unexpected journeys I have been on. I’m eating some great ice cream, rain falling down on me (I didn’t bother opening my umbrella). I just didn’t care if I was getting wet. God has given me so much. Thank you.” I walked back eating my gelato with my little spoon. I’m inside now with some pizza from around the corner looking out the 3^rd story window watching the rain fall down in front of the dim of the yellow street light. I feel like God is saying, “Enjoy this. Enjoy me.” So instead of me thinking about how much I’m not doing. I will focus on what God is doing and what he has done. Aaah…Blessed be the name of the Lord.

11-24

            Yesterday I went with Danielle and several other Christians to package and hand out food to the refugees. They meet every Saturday under a super old archway. Then went to the center where many of the same guys go and have tea, some snacks, play cards and the other stuff I mentioned before. They showed me how to play a couple games, so I joined in. Had good conversation with a couple guys. One lived in London for 4 years before he was deported. He had a job, graduated college, and seemed to be doing fine. But he had fake papers to say he was there legally. Rome seems to be the hub for where people go. It’s from here that they get their initial papers then try going elsewhere for more opportunity. One guy was in Norway for a couple years before being sent back to Italy where he has legal documents. There are 300 guys who stay at the camp, a building I haven’t seen yet). They are only allowed to be in there from evening to morning. Then they have to go. So they often end up just wondering around or sitting in parks. They can’t get a job. They have very little money. Some of them take Italian at places for free. I was talking to this one guy who is married but hasn’t seen his wife since last year. She lives in Lithuania. He doesn’t want to live there cuz he says there is little opportunity and they discriminate against Muslims, and her parents don’t like him. So we got on the subject of religion and talked about Islam and Christianity. It was nice talking to him. Hopefully I’ll see him tonight at the train station when we hand out tea or on Thursday at the center. 

Roman Holiday

11-20

            I am now in Rome, Italy. It’s been raining. I think I took the rain from Nakuru with me. My plane landed a little late in Rome. Then it took 30 min or more for luggage to come out. Fortunately my bag was one of the first. It was THE first to come out from Kenya to Amsterdam. I gave a little cheer. It’s the little things in life that make me happy. By the time I got to the train station at the airport there were no more trains going to Roma Tuscolana where Danielle would come get me. So I had to get on a van shuttle where it would take me to the Central train station. At the station (now 11 pm) I waited in customer service line, which was not moving. There was a man there wearing a little badge. I don’t know how official it was. But he asked where I was going, looked at the schedule, and said there were no more trains going that way. He said, “I will call my guy.” Ummm…ok. I went to the taxis to see how much it would cost to get me there, and they just said it depends on the meter. I forgot that this was not Kenya, and there are such things as meters. So I went back to the guy and his guy showed up. I was being watchful the whole time, getting ready to bust out my kung fu if need be. Judo chop some folks. But the guy got me to my destination and even let me use his phone to call Danielle. It was expensive but whatever. So after 1 hr of sleep in 23 hrs I hit the hay in the comforts of an Italian apartment but only slept for 6 hrs. Ran a couple errands with Danielle the next day. Met some missionary friends during Chinese dinner. Good people. Went with Danielle to a class where she teaches English for free to about 30-40 people. Most of them are a bit older. That was fun helping them with some grammar and trying to hold a bit of a conversation. I think the percentage of people who speak English in Kenya is higher than Italy. Interesting. I slept at a man named Brian’s house last night. He has been in Italy for 4 or 5 years doing some good stuff here. His wife is out of town and let me stay. I’m about to go to the Colosseum. Hopefully it won’t start raining again. And I don’t get lost. It’s a few miles away. Cheerio.

            Wow! Ancient Rome is amazing. Italy has been the number one place I have always wanted to visit since I was a kid. Now that I’m here, it’s a bit surreal. It is beautiful in a totally different way than Kenya. The architecture and art are amazing. I walked into some gigantic church, and there was this sense of reverence. It’s strange for me though. This building is extraordinary with all its marble statues, floors, walls, pillars. The walls are painted wonderfully. The amount of detail is baffling. Knowing that there were probably thousands of workers that put their time and energy into that thing is amazing. But at the same time, here is this church in all its beauty and glory giving praise to popes, the disciples, angels, and whoever else I don’t even know without much of a mention to Jesus, the Son of God. I bet if the disciples saw that they are immortalized in marble, they would be disgusted. Plus on top of that, the pope at the time (just an assumption) commissioned this to be made. Whose money was used to build this? All those men, women, and children who were probably misled into believing that giving more of their money will get them into heaven as they were struggling to make ends meat. Giving money to a church shouldn’t be about making huge monuments. So here I was sitting in this place in awe and wondering, “Where is Jesus?”

            I think pretty much all the men are good looking here with their nice clothes, quality, model haircut, and well-trimmed beards. WHATEVER!!! And I think all the women are beautiful. I’m learning that women (young and old) are captivating. It doesn’t matter where you are from either. Kenya, America, Italy. Doesn’t matter.

Goodby

11-14

            I don’t see myself very often. The last seven weeks being here at Blesco I have not really looked in a mirror. I would catch glimpses of my reflection walking by windows or partially in a rear view mirror of a matatu. There have been a few pictures of me with some the guys here. But I haven’t had a good look. This is good for my ego. When you have no idea what you’re lookin like you don’t have to be overly concerned. But the few pictures I have seen I am not the person who I used to be (looks wise). Just a year ago I had hair, some beard, a bit of color on my skin, eyebrows. Not so much anymore. Some of those pictures I look downright sickly. And when I’m tired I get bags under my eyes, which make it worse. And honestly there’s nothing I can do about any of it. When I was just getting into high school I realized I had a big nose. I forget if somebody told me or I saw a picture. I didn’t know. I only saw myself from the front. So there was a short time that I tried just looking straight on at people. Haha. Quite ridiculous. And I was going bald the first time. You can imagine the affect that had on an already shy 14 yr old. I think I handled it quite well at the time though. So now that I am in this new state of looks with a strong identity in Christ, I’m not overly concerned about it. Clearly it’s on my mind enough for me to write about it though. But I’m realizing that people aren’t necessarily dis-attracted to the way I look. Maybe they are. But people are far more attracted to character above anything else. In particular Godly character. A bit of rambling.

11-16

            Said most of my goodbyes yesterday. It was my last day in town and last night was my last night here at Blesco. Three of the high school guys, Noel, Ngatia, and Michael, stayed behind and are doing work at the school. Almost every night this week they have come inside and have watched a movie on my computer. Goodbyes are a strange thing, especially when you know that you will never see some of these people ever again. Some you hope to see, some will just fade away into the depths of your memory. Here are some people I have met/ seen along the way. The old man wearing suit coat that is too big, wearing his wide brimmed hat, sitting there watching his goats near the school. The young lady who had a slash down the left side of her face causing one eye to be destroyed. The multiple matatu drivers and conductors. George who collected the money from the passengers at the stage who just started telling me hi this week. The cute little girl at the stage who learned my name and would say, “Ben” from a distance but would get scared when up close. But yesterday I bought a lollipop for her and one for myself, and we shared a sugary bond. She waved and enjoyed. The many disabled people sitting on the side asking for money. Job, who I was reacquainted with from last time, still living on the streets. I told him a month ago that I would buy him some food if he went and got his birth certificate so he can start going through the process of getting his id. I thought he wouldn’t do it, but he showed it to me a couple days ago. I gave him money for food. He told me there is a guy who was going to help him get into trade school. The mzee, older guy, who I would see in the matatu all the time. The good looking young mom with her baby son Maxfield who lived in Mbaruk. Peter the cook and his strong grip and beanie he always wore. Susan the other cook. Maryann, Caleb, Joyce, Kotuk, Louise, Faith, the teachers. Mr. Maina the principal. Mariam the quiet secretary who probably wasn’t thanked very often. Troy and Becca and their daughters, Dakota, Kate, and Hope. And their newly adopted son, Thomas Azariah. Lucy, the young woman who sold me movies and chatted while we waited for it to be copied. Karen, the waitress who always served us at our restaurant. The two ladies at the front desk who Kamotho and Waititu always tried hooking me up with. All the students who would come through the office in town. John the short buff worker. Francis the Chairman and his wife Catherine the school Director who let me stay in their house. Kariuki who rides a motorcycle rides for a job in Mbaruk. He constantly says how I need to find a wife, how I’m not generous cuz I’ve never made him food, and is always talking. Not sure if he’s trying to be funny. Annoying… yes. Sorry Kariuki, it’s true. The boy I saw on two occasions pushing his bike loaded with tanks of something up a hill as I ran by. Sammy and David, my street craft guys. The man next to the town office who sold me my bananas. The guard at Woolmatt who just gave me in nod of acknowledgement with a smirk knowing I had no weapons so stopped checking my bag. And of course Harun Waititu, Daniel Kamotho, and Stephen Gitau.

            Troy and the family took me to the hotel in Nairobi. We stopped off at Munga(?). This is the orphanage where they got their 14 month old son. He, along with the other babies were abandoned. There was a two week old premature baby there. If you’re not sure if there is evil in the world, just come listen to a couple stories of these kids. Then if you want to know if there is good in the universe, come spend a couple minutes with one of these kids. I want a kid. Perhaps one day.

11-17

            Quite a difference between Nakuru and Nairobi. Nairobi is very modern. Nakuru… not so much. Walked to the city from my hotel. Hecka long. I didn’t really know where I was going. I just walked toward the tall buildings. When I got to the first set of tall buildings I decided to walk around the edge before going through the center looking for lunch. Nothing much there. So went to the next set, crossing a highway in between. An 1 hr 45min later walking at a brisk pace I found place. Chapati was really good. Then went to Tuskys, the grocery chain, and got my croissant, tropical juice, banana, mango, and strawberry yogurt for dinner. Then walked back. On the way a guy about 50+ yrs old with a few of his teeth missing and receding gums said, “Habari?” (How are you?) I said, “Mzuri.” (I am fine). Then we started talking as we walked, but he liked to stop and talk at times. He asked what I was doing here, and then he asked me about this magazine he was given. It was a Christian Science propaganda/ information thing. And then a flier about Jehovah’s Witnesses. I told him what I knew about it and the difference to Christianity. I asked him about himself. He’s from Eldoret (one of the many places affected by the tribal warfare a few years ago). He lost a lot of his property and saw gruesome crimes. He was in Nairobi for an interview for a teaching position at the university cuz he teaches veterinary science. He said he got the job but that he had to got back to Eldoret (several hour drive) to get some papers. We then talked about some interactions he’s had with some American Christians some American non-Christians. I was gonna give him 50 shillings to help him on his way before he asked for some financial help. I gave him the 50 plus the other 18 I had. This is not a lot of money so no round of applause needed. Today is my last day in Kenya. 5:15am taxi arrives to take me to the airport. And it’s so long Kenya. Hello Italy, via Amsterdam. 

...

11-12

            There will eventually be a day when I will be forgotten. Somebody will look in their family tree, see my name, and probably pass over it without thinking twice. It’s a strange feeling and thought. Tim Keller mentioned in a sermon about how we (humans) have this idea that we shouldn’t die. Death shouldn’t exist. Stories have been written about it. People have searched for this fountain of youth to escape it. We should live on forever. I just got done watching a movie called “50/50” with Joseph Gordon Levitt. It’s a young guy who gets cancer. People die. Every day. There was a horrible storm that killed hundreds, maybe thousands, in the Philippines last week. Death is tragic. And it sucks. Sometimes it’s sudden and you get the dreaded phone call. Sometimes it drags on to the inevitable. Either way it sucks. There will be a day when the inevitable will call my name. And the inevitable of being forgotten will occur. I think of my dad. It’s been over seven years since he died suddenly and it’s still a strange thought. I have to be honest right now. I’m afraid I am going to forget about him. I’ve already forgotten about things we have done, the name of that cave that we swam through with bat guano on the sides, the places in Africa he went to, the silly comments he would make. I’ve forgotten. I was at his grave last year looking around at the other graves with dates and names on them dating back 100 or more years. There was one that said, “Gone but not Forgotten.” That was from like 60 years ago. I’m afraid to say that he will be soon forgotten. And this all seems depressing. And I get down about thinking about it. But then I’m reminded of a promise. Jesus was laid down his life. He was murdered for so that we, so that I, would not just die and be forgotten. So that my dad would not be forgotten. He died so that I may “have life and have it to the full.” And not just in this life, but in the life to come. Jesus didn’t stay dead. He raised himself and gives life to those who believe and follow him. Because of that I may be forgotten. But I will live on with my God. And the things I do in this life will be forgotten, but at the same time they will live on. In the movie “The Gladiator,” Russel Crowe says something that I can’t help but remember. He says, “What you do in this life echoes into eternity.” So even though I will be forgotten, the legacy that I leave will impact many more to come when I’m long gone. I think of all the people who have impacted my life in following Christ. My mom and dad first, and many others after them. Then who impacted theirs and those who introduced Jesus to them. You can go back to when Jesus walked the earth, tracing your spiritual lineage. All those people have been forgotten. Who are they? No idea. But they have left an echo that will resound into eternity. And ultimately that is the only thing that will continue to echo. Everything will be long gone and there won’t even be anybody who will care. But God is good. He takes care of his flock and welcomes them into his fold. Oh how I look forward to meeting all those forgotten. What a mighty day that will be.

            In the movie “50/50” Gordon Levitt’s character is bald and he says how he looks like Voldermort. I laughed because I can closely identify with that statement. I am thankful that I can’t identify with almost all his other experiences in the movie. Give thanks.

11-13

            Internet is sucking and it’s important that I get on so I can figure out how I’m getting around Europe. I guess I can just do whatever since I don’t have much of an agenda. But that usually costs a bit more money than planning ahead.

            I was getting a bit upset (I’ve been having to fight this the last couple weeks on a couple occasions-being in a bad mood). I think because I have next to nothing to do, I’m getting anxious to get doing something productive. I’m itching for movement. As I was walking around town trying to find a place where I could get on the internet, I thought to myself, “Well at least nobody has asked you for money today.” Then I got back to the office and got a text from one of the graduates who I was just talking to earlier in the day at the office. He asked me for a 2000 shillings, about $22. He couldn’t ask me to my face though. I kindly said no and laughed at the perfect timing of the text. Oh boy. 

Creative Title

11-4

            Went to town today. On the way I slipped into puddle after muddy puddle. My socks and feet were soaked all day. However, the day was good. On the way back from lunch at the same janky looking place (but hecka good food) a couple ten-year old street boys came to Haron and me asking for money. Their names were both John. One was breathing on a bottle of glue getting high off the fumes. We started asking them questions and talking to them. Usually when you ask them why they aren’t in school and talking about the importance of it they just walk away. These boys stayed with us. They usually come up with lies about why they are on the street. They’re usually about how their mom is sick and can’t pay school fees and their dad is dead. After a while I took out three shillings (this is very, very little and can’t buy anything). But it was all I had with me. I told the one boy with the glue that I’d give it to him if he gave me the glue. He did reluctantly, then later said that it was nothing. I told him to give me the money back if he didn’t want it, but I wasn’t going to give him the glue back. Haron went into the bank for something, and I waited with the boys outside. We were talking about stuff. Then Glue Boy said he wanted the glue back. I told him no. After a bit he started to threaten to throw a rock at my head. I told him that he wouldn’t do it. The other kid quickly grabbed the bottle out of my hand and tried to get away. But I grabbed Glue Boy and held him under my arm and told the other one to give me the glue if he truly cared about his friend (this was not a threat that I would crush him. Although looking back it may have sounded that way haha. It was supposed to be, “If you care about your friend’s health and life, then give it to me.) After a few moments he gave it back and I set him down. Haron finally came out and we ran a quick errand a few blocks away. The boys came with, and Haron was talking to them. He’s good with these types of boys. I thought that it was better that they started to pay attention to only him rather than me. I after all would be leaving soon. He needed to be trusted in the long run. Thank you God for humbling me in that. At the end of it all he bought them a meal. When they see him again, they will see a man they can trust. That leads to more good stuff.

            On the way to the matatu stage, I came across Job, the now 20-year old who is living on the streets. I told him I’d be leaving soon, bought him a small loaf the lemon cake, and talked with him briefly about life. He’s probably heard it a million times. But God knows, maybe the millionth and one time will get through. It is not my or anyone else’s job to save him though. That’s between him and the life giver.

            The little three-year old girl at the matatu station is getting a bit more friendly with me. However she came close and didn’t see me. When she turned and saw me standing right there she ran scared, crying to her mom. I fully understand. If I saw me, heck ya I’d run. But then I gave her a few smiles and sad faces, and she was back to her old self. I vow by the time I leave, she will be coming up to me giving high fives. She is adorable.

            Tried getting all the guys here at Blesco to take a picture. When I finally got them all together, I tried to get somebody to take a picture for us. I wanted to be in the picture so I could print one out for each of them. I asked three people to take the picture at different times. Each one misunderstood and went to get IN the picture. I just chuckled to myself and took the picture. Oh well. I wanted to leave them something to help them remember me. Guess they’ll only have their memory. I’ll have thousands of pictures that they have taken of themselves in weird poses.

11-9

            The boys left yesterday. They have finished the first year at Blesco Boys HS. Unfortunately I wasn’t there to see them off. I said my goodbyes on Thursday. It was kinda sad saying bye. Fortunately they were eating when I left, so they were a bit preoccupied. I will see some of them in town though. Slept over at Troy’s and his family’s house Thursday night cuz Haron wanted to pick me up at 4am to go to Kisumu, a 5 hr drive. We got on the rode at 4:30 after picking up Gitau. We finally got there at about 9:30. We had to stop in Kisumu town cuz there was something wrong with the car wheels. That’s what happens when you drive 100 miles over potholes. We then went to the prayer meeting for one of the 8^th grade boys. We got there late, and it still lasted over 3 hrs. We didn’t come back to Nakuru yesterday. We stopped in Kericho on the way back and stayed in a small hotel. Haron and Gitau slept in the same bed (not a big bed). I found that a bit humorous. The drive was beautiful. One of those things I wish I could explain.

            If you want to know what it’s like to constantly be hassled for not being married, introduced to random women, and have scripture taken out of context to prove that you SHOULD be married, then be me.

11-10

            There has been a change of plans. When I originally decided on staying til December I thought the student were getting out of school a few days before I was leaving. Now that the students are gone, that means I would be here for a month with not much to do. And there is definitely value in just being where you are whether busy or not. However, I have done that before and was reminded of another great opportunity I can have if I take it. So I am leaving in a week and going to Europe for a few weeks. I have a friend in Rome who is a Christian working with refugees mostly from Afghanistan. So I’ll bee going there and seeing if I can be of some assistance and hopefully give her some encouragement. Then if possible I will go to Ukraine where I have another friend in the Peace Corps. I have never been to Europe and really don’t know what’s happening, but I have become an expert at knowing and going with the flow. But I truly believe God will be present and working and has already started long before I even had a thought. Wow, imagine that.