It was weird coming back to the rest of the group after such a powerful and life-altering experience. I wasn't sure how to communicate with them what happened, and since we were trying to get out the door, I didn't want to go into a "drop what you're doing and listen to what just happened to me" mode, so I took a quick shower and we headed out to go visit Lois and Kevin. I turned out that things had worked out pretty well because they had just gone down to hippo point, the park I went to with Elisha last time I was in Kisumu, and hung out there and were just debating whether to leave without me when I showed up. For me it was just another small reminder that if you drop what you're doing to serve God in a way you didn't expect, God is watching over the whole situation. On the walk over I had a chance to tell them about what had happened, but I had trouble putting into words what had transpired, it just didn't do justice to what had happened to say, "then we prayed and he committed his life to Christ" but I didn't have any other words to describe it.
It was fun visiting with Lois and Kevin, I was happy to see them again. It was also yet another case where I was surprised by how nice it was to be saying hi to people I already knew rather than meeting new people. Maybe it's just that I'm about at my quota of new relatives I can meet so I'm glad to get to know the ones I have met better. I realized now how nice it was to visiting family when there were other people that were just as lost when they started in on some rapid fire Swahili, rather than the one sitting in the corner wondering what people were saying.
From there we walked over to the place where Patrick had worked for a while, which was news to me that he had ever worked in Kisumu. Apparently he had stayed in the little house behind Peter and Leah's house and worked there for I think a year or two, and that's when he met Ross. The place was a small compound with a room that served as a schoolhouse and a kitchen (I think) that served as a food distribution center (I think). I wasn't sure how many grades they taught at the school, but it looked more like a preschool, and they mentioned having classes for three year olds, and I thought that whoever is willing to teach a class of three year olds is much braver than me. There were a couple teachers there that we talked with a little bit about how the school was doing and stuff, and Patrick headed over to the fence line to talk with some other guy he recognized. On our way out there were a couple people who Patrick knew just because they were still regulars on his route.
We headed into town, and I was finally able to pull out enough money to operate on my own again. That was one of those things that wasn't really that big of a deal, but it was just a nagging thing that was off my back. We met Patrick's cousin Eddie there and headed down to a great place right on the lake for lunch. I think I had met Eddie the first time I was in Kisumu, but I didn't really remember him. The place was a beautiful resort style restaurant with outside seating with a great view out over the lake. It seemed to me like kind of a ritzy place, but it was still only about 500 schillings a person if I remember right. We got some of the fish that Kisumu is famous for, and it was excellent. They brought out of a couple of the fish and we cleaned the meat off of them with our hands, which there is definitely an art to. Patrick and Marissa (or maybe Melanie? Unlike Patrick I'm not even going to pretend I can tell you apart) cleaned their fish down to the bones in couple minutes, while Heather and I kept working on ours. Eating fish like that is one of those meals where you have to work for your food a little bit, and at the end I got a little impatient because I wasn't quite full but it was almost more work than it was worth to try and pick the last bits of meat off the fish. We had eaten the same kind of fish a couple days earlier in Nairobi, and Patrick's dad and I had both gotten the heads of the fish. I felt like I did a pretty decent job getting as much meat off of it as I could, but I remember Patrick's dad had literally ended up with nothing but a small pile of bone chips on his plate, meaning he had eaten the eyeballs, the gills, and most of the bones, which I found impressive, if not a little disturbing. Eddie had disappeared for almost the whole time we were eating and apparently had been working the phone lines to find us a car we could rent for the next day and a half as we headed to Eldoret. It would be a lot cheaper than taking matatus and shuttles the whole time, considering the amount of traveling we would be doing, and it would give us a lot more flexibility. The only problem was that we would be cramming seven people plus all their luggage into a five seat car, but this is Africa so that's not seen as a much of a problem. Another interesting insight I heard was that our chances of getting pulled over were very slim if we had a white person sitting up front, so we shouldn't have any trouble with the police stops, which I had never seen pull over anyone but the matatus anyway.
It was already time to leave Kisumu, so we headed back to Peter and Leah's to pack up our stuff and get ready to go. After my leisurely first month and a half, it felt like we were fast forwarding through the trip, which isn't really too far from the truth. I was gaining more appreciation for Heather and Patrick's reluctance to come for such a short time, because there was a huge number of relatives that expected them to visit if they came, so even at the break neck pace they were on they wouldn't get to everybody, and as it was everybody wanted them to stay longer. In some ways it even struck me as slightly inconsiderate, as if family members were trying to persuade them to come visit or stay longer, seemingly disregarding the money and effort they were putting into trying to see as many relatives as possible. But then I pictured what it would be like if I had been gone for three years and was criss-crossing the Northwest trying to see all the family and I can't imagine their reactions would be much different. Also, Heather and Patrick's whirlwind trip didn't jive with the whole Kenyan lifestyle. Strict schedules were never even made, let alone kept, and the idea was that if you were going to go visit someone for a day, you might as well stay another day rather than rush back.
Given how cramped things would be on the way to Eldoret we decided it would be best for Ross and I to take a shuttle and meet them up there. Cramming into the car driving around from Grandy's would be workable, but for the two hour drive to Eldoret it would be more trouble than it was worth. I really like the ride from Kisumu to Eldoret, passing through the farm land and rural villages with some beautiful views of the mountains and the countryside. This time it was right at dusk, which just made the views even more scenic. We made one of the hectic roasted corn pit stops part way, and I remember specifically thinking at one point, with the sun having just gone down while I munched my roasted corn and listened to a particularly catchy Kenyan song on the radio, that this was one of those moments I would want to store away and cherish about my visit here. It had been a really fun trip so far and I thought of all things I'd experienced and learned, and all the stories I had to tell and things I had to think about, and everything felt right with the world.
Ross and I got to Eldoret first and it was raining, so we headed into a hotel restaurant to wait for the others to arrive. I got a meat pie while we waited, one of the standard, deli counter type food items I've really enjoyed here, which turned out to be a great call that Ross was envious of later because as events transpired we wouldn't eat until much later, even by Kenyan standards. One of the biggest things Ross and I commiserated about was the lack of certainty in when meal times would come. For me this was particularly hazardous because I was running so much, but Ross also had the added complication of being a vegetarian, so even with the erratic meal schedule he couldn't even be sure that he could have a solid meal when it came if it was mostly meat. When they arrived we headed over to Uncle Timothy's, which is in the same housing area as Roger. We split the people and gear between our car and his to head to Grandy's, because it was looking physically impossible to fit all eight of us (including Eddie) and our gear into our car. Apparently the trip out to Grandy's was an arduous and miserably adventuresome one, involving having to push Timo's car a decent amount and tightening the bolts on the rims, which were apparently close to coming of, but I was asleep for the whole ride and no one bothered to wake me up to help push the car, which I feel bad about but I would be lying if I said there wasn't a big part of me that was glad to miss the whole misadventure. The long and short of it is we got into Grandy's at about two in the morning. Rather than just crashing though, Grandy was ready to throw in a movie, chat for a while, and feed us "dinner". I couldn't believe she was even up; my grandparents were usually struggling to stay awake through Jeopardy at 8:00. The rest of us though, especially the girls I think, didn't share Grandy's enthusiasm for the late night catch-up-on-things session, and I think all of us would have preferred to go to bed, but if there was ever a house where somebody ran the show and everybody did what she told them to, it was Grandy's house. I didn't feel any need to try to stay awake for a conversation I didn't really care about, so I just snoozed on the couch until it was time to go to sleep.
When the long awaited declaration it was time to go to sleep finally came we headed down to Timo's unfinished house to sleep on the floor on top of a couple of blankets. Timo had to get back to town for work so he pulled down a solid two and half hours of sleep then headed back to town for work. The rest of us got up much more leisurely, and I took off for my run, eager to explore some of the roads around here. I think I missed them going to check out some of the rest of the farm, but that didn't bug me too much because I would have a lot more time at the farm on my own to explore as much as I wanted. Because of how short my runs had been the last two days I was anxious to get in a solid run, and this was the perfect place for it. I would rank this run as one of the most beautiful I've been on since being here, but that is probably just because it was my first at the farm so the beauty struck me so much more. I ventured farther and farther down the dirt roads through the corn fields, enjoying the views of the countryside and carefully marking in my mind which turns I had taken. I ended up hitting the main road back along the way we had come in, and there was a group of what looked to me like a collection of boda boda drivers and guys who were just standing around talking, who called me over to talk to them when I paused at the road junction. They said something about wanting to go to America and whether I could help them, which had turned out to be a pretty common conversation for me to have. It seemed kind of amusing and kind of exasperating that people I had never met before and knew nothing about who check to see if I was willing to wade into the process of getting a visa to go the US on their behalf. I told them it's pretty difficult to get to the US and that I couldn't really do anything to help them.
I got back just as they were headed over to Uncle Jack's, so I skipped the shower and headed over with them. I hadn't realized until now that Junior was here, and apparently had spent a decent portion of his break from school here. Uncle Jack took us on a tour of his garden, which was pretty extensive and had a wide variety of plants, including two big greenhouses. The highlight of the tour was when one of the chickens got loose and we had to corner it and catch it. It was basically just like the chasing of squirrels and geese that I'd done growing up (and college is part of growing up in case any of you were wondering), except that now it was fully sanctioned and actually a necessary act. I was still eating my bread that I'd grabbed from Grandy's for breakfast before heading over, and Uncle Jack teased me that if it came to it I would surely let the chicken go to hold onto my bread. It turned out to be a non-issue as the chicken never made a break toward me, which was foolish on its part because of the group I was definitely the greenhorn as far as catching chickens goes. I carried a couple of the chickens part way back to the car, which cracked me up because you just hold them by the feet and let their heads dangle. Apparently I wasn't doing it right though, because one of the chickens started squawking and flapping its wings and reached up with its beak to take a chunk out of my hand, and which I point I freaked out and dropped them on the ground, which turned out to be alright because their feet were tied together, but someone else carried them the rest of the way. They told me as long as you stay relaxed the chickens will stay relaxed but I had felt pretty darn relaxed when the chicken lost its cool and had found staying relaxed when the chicken wanted to bite my hand off to be a daunting task that I could not see through.
That was not the last of my problems with the chickens, however, because it turned out we were taking those to the farm in Kitale, which we all piled into the car to head to. As I was about to throw my bag into the back though, I noticed that the chicken had taken the liberty of dropping a load in the back of the car, making the whole car smell like, well, chicken excrement, to put it delicately (to Evan Bradford and company, two of my favorite lines from Fire on the Track came to mind, bringing with them many fond memories of quoting them with you guys. I think you can guess which ones). As far as I was concerned that was strike two between me and the chickens. I was wary as we loaded the car, but it appeared the chicken turds had been cleared. I found, to my reluctance, that my seat in the car would be in the back with Junior… and the chickens. I decided to try to make amends by petting one of the chickens, but apparently that was exactly the wrong thing to do as it set off another frenzied storm of clucking and flapping and trying to peck my hand off, except that this time I had nowhere to run. It finally settled down though, and we spent the rest of the ride with an uneasy truce, clearly with little trust on either side.
One interesting comment about the ride was that we passed through a town called Moi's Bridge, named after the bridge that is named after the second president of Kenya, Daniel Arap Moi. All over the place you find things named after him and the first president, Jomo Kenyatta, who from what I understand is something equivalent to the George Washington of Kenya, and I asked Junior if the same would happen for Mwai Kibaki, the third and current president, after his second term ended next year. Junior's response was something along the lines of "Why would we name anything after him? What has he done for us?" I hadn't heard much open criticism of Kibaki, but had heard lots of criticism more generally of the corruption of entrenched politicians, and he seemed to me to fit the bill as well as anybody, especially in light of the accusations of election fraud in 2007 that precipitated the violent riots.
The farm in Kitale was probably even more remote than Grandy's farm, well off of any paved road, and requiring us to get out and push the car once (although I should add that was after going too far because we had missed the turn). I credit Eddie for the driving on those sloppy, rough dirt roads. It was another case where I would have said we were probably into four wheel drive territory, but Eddie just kept motoring along in our little hatchback. When we arrived at the farm we found the other Eddie, who lives in Nairobi, there and I found that it was his family who owned the farm. I met Eddie's brother Neville, who I had heard about but hadn't met yet, and Eddie's mom, who I had met a couple times at their house in Nairobi. They had a beautiful house, probably one of the nicer ones I had been in here, which seemed a little out of place to me here. My impression is that the countryside is mostly poor, with some people owning a lot of land, but I haven't seen anything like the big homes or ranches that you can often find out in the remote areas of Montana. We headed out to check out the grounds, staring with the incredibly muddy feeding trough where all the cows were gathered. Neville talked some of picking out a cow to send to my parents for the dowry of the marriage, but completely just joking around, and apparently I had been completely misled that I would get my own cow as part of the whole process. Maybe I had just heard what I wanted to hear but as far as I was concerned I was down a cow. Spirit crushed, we headed out the grazing fields, which offered a very nice scenic view and, to me, the idyllic vibe of what I would want farm life to be. At one point Ross mentioned to Neville and Eddie that it must be nice to be able to come out here and get away from it all, to which they replied that they have to work way harder when they're out here and if anything they head back to town to relax. While we were out there we saw a couple of crested cranes, which are some of the most beautiful birds that I've seen. They kind of remind me of a peacock, but without the big peacock feather thing (I wasn't paying attention to that National Geographic special, sorry).
We came back in and sat around for a while playing Kenyan poker, with Ross and I taking bets on how long until dinner. I slipped out to try to call Henry again, because so far every time I'd called there had been a problem with his number, which drove me crazy because I had told him I would call him and hadn't given him any of my contact information, so I was really hanging him out to dry, and if there was one person in the whole world I didn't want to ditch out on, it was Henry. Sat there for a while wondering what to do and praying and kicking myself for not giving him any way to contact me. I probably tried to call him five or six times, hoping against hope that somehow I would be able to connect, but it gave me a message that the number wasn't in service and the only thing I can figure is that the number Henry gave me wasn't the right number, or that something was wrong with his phone. That was just an unfortunate circumstance, but where the part I really blamed myself for was counting completely on that one line of communication and not giving him a way to contact me. This was the kind of communication glitch though that I knew I had to put in God's hands. I figured if God had it in the grand plan for Henry and I to contact each other it would be easy enough for him to make that happen. Perhaps we would meet later by some method much more miraculous and wonderful than just by the phone number we had exchanged. And perhaps Henry had left my life forever, and I had played the role that I was meant to play in Henry's life, but I pleaded with God that that wasn't the case. I couldn't accept that I wouldn't see Henry again and should just plow on and leave him in the rear view mirror. Still there was no parting of the clouds or call that somehow went through, so I was left without anything else to do but sit there and pray that God either do something amazing to allow me to get in contact with Henry again or else put other people in his life to support him in his faith.
I was able to come to peace with the whole thing and just leave the whole thing in God's hands, but it still put me in kind of somber mood. Junior wanted to mess with some of his friends on my phone, but I wasn't in the mood for it. We had a big dinner, which Ross in particular dug into since he hadn't been able to eat much for the last couple of days. After dinner we stayed up for a while just sitting around talking and laughing, with the still jet lagged crowd hitting the sack before the rest of us. I was glad to have the time to hang out because I hadn't had a chance to really hang out with Neville or Eddie (Kisumu Eddie), and that is exactly why I am here, to hang out with those guys and get to know them by spending some time hanging out. I was grateful for the good times hanging out with them because they served as a good diversion for getting my mind off of the situation with Henry.
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