the Matatu and other stories...

I have been told by many a folk who have been to Kenya that one has not really "been" to Kenya until they have been on a matatu. Friends, these folks did not lie! I have spent the past several days with my kind host family, and they have taken it upon them to help me experience this beautiful country. First things? Riding a matatu, of course!

For those of you back at home, a matatu is a "bus" of sorts. These buses seat 10 people (legally), and look like a VW van from 1960. The newer ones are all cool-like with black lights, blasting bass, and yelling drivers. Now why, you might ask, would anyone voluntarily get on a matatu with black lights, blasting music, and yelling drivers in the middle of an overcrowded city where you are the only muzungu for miles? Because, this is Kenya!

After the many horror stories told to me by my host sister, I was convinced that my life would begin and end on this bus. However, I survived my first matatu with no real problems. Not even enough for a good story! What a blessing!

I have seen so much in the past week that I cannot understand or process. More than anything, I have been humbled a hundred times by the people I have met, seeing the conditions that some are forced to live in. I have seen the face of God in every person I have met here, and am so thankful to be here with all of my fellow volunteers.