Nitachapa!

Hello friends and family!

A couple of days ago, Keith asked, “Leshel, (some Kenyans have trouble pronouncing my name) could I call you my sister?” It was cute, and since the Kamau’s feel like my family, how could I refuse? So we decided that Shurie would be the “large” sister, me the “medium” and Kathy the “tiny” one. Maureen, who was pretty excited about these new titles, said, “I hope I remember, surely, so I can go around school asking, ‘Where is my large daughter?!’” If you’ve never seen a picture of Shurie, you should know that while she is certainly very tall, she is anything but large! We really laughed, thinking of the confusion that comment could cause among the teachers and the students.

Living in Gatundu is always a humbling experience, and the past few weeks have been no different. We are still living day to day, praying for the rains to come. The water tank at the teacher’s apartment has been dry for almost two weeks now, and so we have all been fetching water from the students’ tank behind the school (which isn’t being used since school is out of session.) As I filled up one of my wimpy 5 liter bottles, I watched as one of the women carried a twenty liter container on her head back to her apartment. Anyone who thinks that women don’t have the strength of men, never saw her with that bucket on her head and a smile on her face.

Yesterday, I toted over a hundred liters back to the apartment for my neighbor. And although I was using a wheelbarrow, I was surprised at what a workout fetching water can be. As I was wheeling one load in, Simiyu (the Geography teacher) smiled saying, “Leshel, I think you are strong!” I laughed and said, “I’m trying!” He then said, “I think now you know what is Africa. What is Africa?”

That question got me to thinking...and while I can’t really define “Africa,” I can describe a part of Kenya, or at least my Kenya.

For me, Kenya is the act of smiling and greeting a neighbor. It is taking tea with a friend and preparing dinner over the fire. Kenya is seeing the cows grazing in the soccer field, playing hopscotch in the dirt with Keith or sitting under a shade tree with Mama Keju. It is understanding that life changes quickly, and though the changes might be difficult they will only make you a stronger, more patient person. Kenya is waiting two hours for the bus to leave, and laughing about it while you talk about how God has blessed you and your family that week. It is drinking too many sodas, eating too many chapatis and never losing your sense of humor.

And I could’ve said any or all of these things to Simiyu, but at the time all I could say was, “It is my home, Simiyu!”

Shurie and I have been in Gatundu so long now that we can recognize the different people we meet along the road. We even know which children like to shake our hands, which ones like high-fives better, and which ones are usually up in the trees eating mangoes.

There is an old man we frequently meet on the road from Icaciri to Gatundu. He must be in his seventies, and his eyes are sky blue. And he’s such a trickster, this man! Some days he is quite kind, saying, “Tunaenda wapi?” (Where are you going?) or “Muriega?” (How are you?) but the other day was a little different. As soon as he saw Shurie and I round the corner, he lifted his cane and wobbled (rather quickly) towards us. He had crazy eyes and he was saying things in Kiswahili that I couldn’t understand. The one word I did get was “Nitachapa!” or “I will beat you!” It was a horrifying experience.

So when Shurie and I saw this man on our way to Gatundu this morning, we huddled a little closer, and walked a little faster. Luckily, today was one of the “Muriega” days and not one of those “I will beat you” days!

So life keeps us on our toes. I would ask that you all continue to pray for the region, for we desperately need rain. I also ask that you would keep my neighbor Anthony, his wife Mary, and their new baby girl (born this morning!) in your thoughts. I love you all, I miss you all and God bless!