In 1995 we spent our first Christmas in Kenya and sent our friends and family a Merry Christmas newsletter telling of our first few months in an incredible land. Though we perceived with naive western eyes, already, we were more thankful than we had ever been of our heritage. We realized how spiritually rich we were, our sending nation of America having been built on biblical principles. We wrote: “Being in Kenya just a short time, we’ve seen what a nation with a history of witchcraft and human greed is like. Daily, newspapers tell of ‘tragic road carnage’ on poorly maintained roads, corruption and AIDS. With people flocking to the cities in search of jobs, more and more are living below the poverty each year.” For the next fourteen years, that was basically the gist of our Daily Nation newspaper reading.
Within a short time, we had opportunity to visit many Kenyan families and were getting acquainted with several missionaries which helped to make up the then 5,000 Americans living in Kenya. Many of these became our lifelong friends. After just one month in Kenya, Rick’s mother passed away, so on short notice, he flew back to the States to be with his family, which meant our fifteen year old daughter, Vanessa, and I had to learn to fend for ourselves in a hurry! Having been blessed to be borrowing a vehicle from a missionary on furlough, Rick drove us that mid afternoon to the airport, located just minutes out of town. But we had to drive through downtown Kisumu, the third largest city in Kenya. Traffic was horrendous and seemed to be coming from all directions, passing haphazardly, barely missing pedestrians who, obviously, did not have the right of way. Hardly a vehicle on the road was without major dents, so I knew we had to keep alert watch on all sides.
Already rather stunned that Rick was leaving so soon, and leaving without us, we kissed goodbye, said our fairwells, our eyes glued to him until the plane flew off through the clear sky into the distance. We couldn’t believe he would be gone a whole month. Vanessa and I walked out to the car and looked at each other with blank looks on our faces. It was then that the real shock hit us. It was I who had to drive us home! I had only previously driven in Kenya a couple of short blocks, twice, close to our apartment where there was little traffic. I gulped and we got in. Oh my goodness! It was now past sunset and people were on their way home from work. Dark is very dark with no streetlights and no lanes designated with painted lines. The worst part of it was that I had to drive on the wrong side of the road from the right side of the car! I felt like I was in one of those race cars that has a side-car attached to the left fender! My entire goal was to get home alive and without hitting matatus (mini vans over-full with people literally hanging onto all sides), smoke-billowing trucks, huge buses taking their half out of the middle, bicycles without lights, push carts, pedestrians wearing dark clothes, cows and goats. We were so thankful that we made it home where we would chase monkeys off our porch when we went out to hang laundry.
Having accomplished such a great feat, the next morning we decided to try it again - and again the following days. This time, Vanessa had our video camera in hand. One of the treasures we found that first day was an 18-year old girl, staying with a cousin and a lot of friends in what we called, “The Boathouse,” shaped much like a giant tugboat. Once an almost “Gone With The Wind” type of house with a charming winding center staircase, sadly, the roof over most of it had caved in, leaving once-lovely teak hardwood floors fulnerable to the equator’s sun and seasonal, torrential rains. That day was the start of a long and very tumultuous friendship with two of these house sitters. One day, I’ll write about our friends who taught us so much of what we learned about African culture.
We learned a great deal in a month-long short time that seemed like a long time, like how to cash checks (oh dear!), to claim packages from customs (this could take a whole page to write about), to open a coconut and to make cottage cheese.