While living abroad there are minor things that you never think of before hand, but once you arrive, it becomes a moderate concern. For instance, I have finally reached the point where a hair cut is an absolute necessity. Naturally had I been at home I would have visited my barber, a professional honed by years of practice and success: my father. However, here one must seek out a kinyozi just down the road. Being that I wanted to remain with a bit of hair since I shall soon encounter the cold of North Carolina, I decided to opt for option two.

A girl on the team claimed to have some skill with the scissors as she cut her brother’s hair when at home. She said he seemed to be fond of the haircut and that was plenty of proof for me that she would be suitable for the task. Monday night it began to rain, not some of the gentle rains that have fallen upon us as of late, but rather a severe downpour that threatened even to breach the threshold of our house. It was amidst such a rain and its resulting cacophony that I sat down to have a trim.

The gal did a delightful job trimming around the ears and another combined her skill to shave the neck. I think one’s apparent hair worth is determined by a good clean neck and now I can make such a claim. Clearly I will have had enough of a trim to make it until arriving home in a few weeks. However, it is always true that on the mission field you must be prepared to do more than just preach the Gospel; learn to cut hair, for it may come in handy some day down the road.

Today we were forced to move today. Not our own dwelling but one of the houses that Adventures in Missions had been renting. The owner decided he wished to sell and as a result the renting of the house had been terminated. We have until Wednesday to be out and today was moving day. In order to get the deposit back that was paid at the onset of renting, it was necessary for the inside to be thoroughly painted. Yesterday the painting crews came in with a homemade ladder and a few brushes.

We awoke this morning to begin the day as early as Kenyans care to, about 8:00 am, and found five men ready to work until the job was done. With them was a two wheeled cart that was about as large as the bed of a small sized pickup truck. They were professionals at arranging the articles from the house, no matter the size, on the cart they possessed. In four trips they had carted all the essential items away and carried them up the narrow stairs to the second floor office about a quarter of a mile away.

After assisting the move, we went back to the house to find the electrician removing all the extra wiring they added. Earlier in the morning the plumber took out the plumbing that had been added along with a tank around the side of the house. The week before, we dug up the plants in the yard and took out the blocks that comprised the patio. The notion around here is to remove anything that was added to a place, meaning that if it is not nailed down or attached, it is to be taken. Moreover, even some things that are nailed down are to be removed. We will be taking a portion of the fence that surrounds the house and a few other things that were added during the residency of the last tenants.

I chuckle a bit as I watch the landscaping removal process and the stripping of other things that were added. The resemblance of a sidewalk was even removed and placed in our mission compound. The joy of doing businesses internationally, as well as different cultures, is wonderfully delightful. It certainly keeps one on his toes!

Today is our church day. Our involvement with Calvary, the church we are working with, lasts for a good portion of the day. We arrive at 9:30 for the youth service, stay through and contribute to the main service and then hold a Bible study afterwards for the men and women in their respective gender groupings. Yesterday it was my turn to preach and I did so, preaching a message on the imminent return of the Lord and our need to be found faithful. Following said time we convened for the men’s fellowship as the women went to their own.

As we talk to the men we are encouraging them and exhorting them to be greater leaders in the community, better husbands, better fathers and so forth. Regardless, yesterday we were talking about becoming better husbands and did not quite recognize the weighty task we took upon ourselves. Roughly twenty-five men, mostly church elders, joined in a classroom to learn from whatever the white folks had to say. There we were, aged and wise African men, all married, being taught by young, single, white men about marriage. I must say, the odds did not look practical and I questioned of what validity we spoke with.

Nevertheless, they lent their ear and absorbed what was said. They were taking in the information as a spectator would until the issue of proximity arose. One of them asked why men and women were so close in the US and why they seemed so distant there in Kenya. It is quite true, one never sees a husband and wife sitting together in church or walking about in public together. I am told some even sleep in different rooms of the house. Moreover, some were asking the question (even though they didn’t use the specific word) about romance between a man and a woman.

So there we were in quite a fix, wise sages in African society inquiring what they could do to better serve their wives. Knowing that even culture does not separate basic qualities between men and women around the globe, we exhorted them in the way we best knew how, using only the Word as the authority instead of our gross lack in experience or intelligence. The time lasted far longer than we had planned as the men had many questions. We ultimately had to depart and told them we would continue next week. However, I still can’t help but chuckle at the clueless men of the church desiring to become more romantic and tender towards their wives. Perhaps culture and tradition will fall by the wayside as the men begin to “love their wives as Christ loves the church.”

A man by the name of Joe came to Kenya from Adventures in Missions. His mission was to install a water purification system in order to alleviate the many trips to buy water as well as the cost that said water consumes. Today he is scheduled to leave and we can say without a doubt that he has been successful in his venture.

The technology that causes this water purification is quite novel. I don't know if it is brilliant technology or a bit of magic, but however the machine works, it produces clean water for the drinking. Through the alteration of some plumbing, a new metal stand and a 165 liter drum, we are set for drinking as much water as we could possibly desire.

This is a good thing as our latest mouse pursuits may require additional energy and water consumption. I feel as if the hunt is beginning again with a new sighting just last night. Fear not, man has made it this far through life because he has dominion over the beasts of the earth. This situation is no different and it is just a matter of time before this mouse joins his ancestors, abandoned in the grave.

Due to the poor air quality as well as the impending allergy issues, I have been delighted to find various local and international remedies otherwise not found in the US. For instance, in the realm of breathing/respiratory aid resides many fragrant and mentholated oils and pastes. One such product I have found great results with, by the name of Cogoni. This is an oil made in India someplace but includes the following ingredients in certain percentages:

Cinnamon Oil 4.445%
Clove Oil 6.668%
Menthol 6.668%
Peppermint Oil 4.445%
Camphor 8.890%
Thymol 8.890%
Eucalyptus Oil 1000%

The figure associated with the Eucalyptus Oil is not entirely correct but as it does not specify, I find it substantial to guess at such a lofty percentage. The directions on the vial read as follows: “Two drops with Tea or Water for cough, colds, flu, gastric troubles, vomiting, etc etc.”

This appears to be a cure all, “good for whatever ails you.” I have successfully consumed two mugs of tea thus far with a few drops of this product within. Other options for use are dropping a bit in hot bath water, placing a few drops on a handkerchief to be inhaled, and similar uses. It did not go so far as to specify, but I am certain it can also be dropped straight into the nasal passages for instant breathing assistance.

Regardless, I find the local remedies to be quite interesting and I am sure half of them would never be approved in the US due to extreme potency. Worry not if you are finding yourself desiring such a vial of wonder oil. If you desire your own, I shall be glad to purchase some and bring it back to the US when I return. This decision should only be made after much contemplation if you truly desire to find the miraculous powers of this conglomeration of fragrant oils. Think about it!

It is with great dismay yet a sense of hidden adventure that I report the return of the mice. Just last night I found myself back in the African Bible College, teaching future pastors of Kenya. It had been two weeks since I was there as I was detained by travel for a part of the time and sickness the other. Regardless, I returned back to the base following the class and learned that there had been a mouse sighting in the community house, not far from the death of the last one.

At best I have rationalized the return to a new generation of mice. I am not sure how long it has been since the last one was slain, yet I have a notion that the second generation of mice have been born and reached maturity. This second generation of mice do not know of the carnage that was previously unleashed on their ancestors. As a result, history shall repeat itself. These will come, they will be destroyed and their efforts will be mocked by us for weeks to come.

Apart from this bit of exciting information, we continue to spend time living large in Kenya. Life on Karanja Road continues to be rainy and cold at times. However, our spirits cannot be dampened nor frozen as the fiery ministry of the Father is in our midst daily. I will continue to keep you posted on the happenings and delight in your continued interest in the happenings of Kenya.

It has been some time since I updated those who follow this page as to what life is holding here in Kenya. Due to the travel time around the country these past two weeks I was attacked by a sinus infection which sidelined me for several days. Knowing the severity of the infection and due to having them before, I knew what needed to be done but found no hope in a local clinic. Then, and only then, did I learn that at the local chemist here (our version of a pharmacy) one can acquire prescription medication with no prescription or doctors visit.

Armed with this knowledge I marched in and demanded a new antibiotic, which she graciously gave me after exchanging a moderate amount of shillings. After the first dose began to do its work I was revitalized and have been fine since. However, the illness took a bit of my time here and I missed out on a bit of ministry.

I was strong enough for the journey to Eburru, that was made after both of our vans had major issues befall them. We arrived and found the place to be quite beautiful although a unique location for a village. Eburru sits upon a dormant volcano as most of the mountains there in the Rift Valley are. As a result, water is a big problem in gathering as well as growing crops during the dry seasons. This struggle of life did not create issue in sharing the Gospel and many were blessedy by the Lord.

We have returned back to our home here in Kibera and all is well. The sinus infection has been destroyed and work has returned to its normal schedule.

I haven't much to allow at this juncture as the week has been spent recovering from last weekend's trip and preparing for this weekend's. This weekend, come Saturday morning, we will be departing to Eburru for two days to do ministry there. Our time will include the normal open air, youth, children, Bible Study and church sort of schedule.

The place plans to be quite an experience as I am told it is unique and unlike any other place in Kenya. This we shall soon see. Eburru sits atop a volcano, ensuring a pristine view of the Rift Valley but also causing life for the inhabitants to be a bit difficult. I anticipate a grand report upon our return of mighty movings of the Lord in the lives of those there. Be blessed!

The Narok Chronicles: Day 4

Our time to depart had arrived and we awoke bright and early Monday morning to pack up our belongings and begin the arduous journey back to Nairobi. For whatever reason, the fellows we were with decided they wanted to wash the van. Since the rains had come and been duly collected, there was no shortage of water. However, the van was sitting in mud, which would ensure its pristine exterior for only about five seconds after the journey began. They cleaned the inside and out and we packed up our few bags along with a few things acquired in the village.

The whole town certainly turned out to see us off. I was rather intrigued that someone from the village had a camera. It was an old 35mm style, faithful but true. To be honest I doubt that it really had film in it. Moreover, I believe if it did have film, the exposures were over about halfway through our time there and they were just snapping pictures that were going unrecorded. Our departure was delayed at least forty-five minutes due to everyone wanting to pose in a picture with the white folk. The life of a celebrity is a hard one indeed and something I should never care to partake in. It was slightly frustrating because we could do nothing without someone fighting to be in a picture with us. Alas, I was humbled by their desire to capture the time on film but I also felt a bit like the bearded lady in a traveling carnival.

We left to go home carrying more than we did traveling there. Our van held the following: thirteen people (we picked up a couple of ladies who were going to town and one had a rather small baby in tow), the sound system and related goods, a large bag of corn, several gallons of fresh milk, two pumpkins (donated by someone in the church), other random bags of corn and vegetables donated to our passengers, a good bit of water for the overheating engine and three chickens that rode underneath the seats and atop the feet of the vehicle’s inhabitants. With all our goods we headed down the road to get as far as we could before overheating.

Our expedition began well, although rather rough on those roads going through the bush. We passed many breathtaking scenes and had to stop from time to time as the Maasai led their cattle and goats across the road. We dropped one lady off just as the dirt road turned into the paved one and the other stepped off in the town of Narok. There we met up with the village elder who promised me his daughter, to see if we could get the van fixed from overheating. We added air to the tires, filled up with diesel but due to the delicate process of cleaning our particular radiator, he suggested we go slowly to Nairobi and fix it there. This would turn out to be quite the chore. We bade him farewell and set off once again towards our final destination.

Each time we would overheat we would pull to the side of the road, uncap the erupting radiator and fill with water. Only a half a dozen times later we neared the region of our home. Even the lone giraffe we passed on the way there came back to the road for a visit, wondering why we continued driving and stopping. Towards the end of the trip the chickens grew restless and were fighting among themselves, even fighting some of the passengers at times. The riders were getting weary and it was a welcomed sign to see Nairobi looming in the distance.

We made it. We went there, we shared the Gospel and we came back. The van has since been remedied and life is grand. I miss Tendwet somewhat but I also missed the slums. The work of the Lord has been done and we now prepare for our next venture this coming weekend. Travel is wearying here in country but I am confident that one could travel all over the face of Kenya and would not be able to see in a lifetime everything that it has to offer. God is good!

The Narok Chronicles: Day 3

Church was supposed to begin at 9:30, or rather; we were supposed to be at church at 9:30. However, in true Kenyan fashion, the tea time was extended to a point that we did not arrive at the church until 10:30. Naturally they are free to do such things as no one had a bulletin or expectations for beginning and ending times. The church doesn’t have a permanent building; instead we were meeting beneath a tremendous tree upon a hill overlooking the valleys below. It truly was a beautiful place to have a church service.

We were first to hold Sunday school and broke into groups in a rather impromptu fashion. The service officially began after we talked to the three groups: children, youth and elderly women (rather peculiar classes to break into). Naturally it was a big day for the church of nearly eighty people; to have visitors from across the waters. Therefore, we were seated in benches at the front, facing the congregation, while they were all scattered out, sitting on the grass. They performed several songs for us while we sat and finally our time had come to share.

The whole time the service had been unfolding, I was watching our backs as a band of rain was heading our way. It appeared that it was just a matter of time before we ourselves would be caught in the rain and sure enough, just as I stood to preach, the storm hit will all its fury. A nearby schoolhouse had an empty room and we all ran to gather in that room for the remainder of our time together. The whole church crowded into a room that was perhaps made for forty people and I had the honor of preaching the Word. They were ecstatic to receive the message and we even found a dear lady that could translate directly from English to Kalenjin, that was a blessing for sure.

Prior to the end, a call for salvation came and many in the church gave their lives to Christ. I suppose I assumed that all were saved since the church was rather small; however, some visitors must have snuck in to see what the white folk were all about. As we were wrapping things up a lady came forward desiring prayer for her child. After a translator revealed her words, I learned her child was possessed by a demon and the mother was there standing in the gap for her. We prayed fervently for the deliverance of the child and believed for the Lord’s mighty deliverance.

Service ended free from the rain and they began to pass out clothes that they had gathered from the church we work with in Kibera. In my mind I was wondering how one would pass out clothes in such a situation and feared for the worst. The worst did happen as people were awfully grabby and some protested that they were not getting what they were due and so forth. Fortunately some order was restored; at least I think it was, as we were departing.

One of the church elders and also a village elder invited us to his house to partake in the luncheon meal. He opened up his very beautiful home on ten of the finest acres around Tendwet. The meal was truly one of the best we have had since arriving in Africa. He treated us with the greatest measure of hospitality and truly blessed us tremendously. Naturally he desired that we pray a blessing over the home and pronounce some manner of Word from the Lord. I read a passage of scripture and thanked him and his family for their kindness and hospitable reception of us foreigners.

He stood to provide the benediction of sorts there in his home and introduced his family in closing. Lastly he mentioned his daughter who is studying law in Nairobi. She is his youngest and he was equally proud of her as he was his two sons who own three cows each. Regardless, he finished and then looked at me extending both arms and exclaimed, “she is yours.” I of course was honored to have been given the youngest daughter of the village elder but not quite sure what it all involved. Only later have I learned that he is hoping I shall take her to the U.S. He offered to pay for her plane ticket to America as well as continued schooling there. Two weeks from now he plans on visiting us in Nairobi and bringing her along. That means I have two weeks to scheme and figure a way to get out of marriage and to get out of coming home with a bride at Christmas time!

The meal ended, we departed from what could be my future father-in-law’s home and arrived back in time for the afternoon open air service. Lingering rains put a damper on the meeting until around 6:00 when they began a bit of singing and dancing. After their musical introduction it was my time to bring the Gospel to the thirsty ears of the inhabitants of Tendwet. I preached on the goodness of the Lord and His love in the most contextualized way I knew how and turned things over to Pastor Benard who closed the meeting.

Again there were several who grasped a hold of Jesus Christ or perhaps it was He who did the grasping. Nevertheless, we ended the day with many added to the kingdom and a full spirit from the Lord’s tremendous work. Before bed we had some tea (round one) and a delightful meal followed by some more tea (round two). Sleep came quickly for the day following would be a busy one.

The Narok Chronicles: Day 2

After a swell night’s sleep, we all awoke to find that we were amidst a very beautiful land. The black of the night cloaked the landscape as we arrived and we were unable to see that we were amidst some of the greenest and finest land of all Kenya. We also discovered that the town we arrived in was called Tendwet. I had never heard the name before, but was glad to be there.

Breakfast was served: all the tea you could drink and some buttered bread. The day’s plans had been set in motion as we were to split into two groups and go door to door to evangelize. However, prior to going, my group was required to pick up a generator for the open air meeting later that day. The village had no running water or electricity; ergo, we were required to find an alternate source of power. The one group headed down the mountain and I drove the other to the unknown location of said generator.

On the way to the generator rendezvous, we stopped at the house of one of the church members. They welcomed us warmly and I recognized that they spoke no English and very little Swahili. We were glad to have a translator who spoke their mother tongue, Kalenjin. While there the man of the house went to fetch his father that he may greet us. His father, in Kalenjin, seemed to be saying something conveying his vast excitement. It was only later that I learned he was thrilled to see a white person. He was seventy-eight years old and had never seen a white man before him. Later that day we came to learn that no one had seen a white person as none had ever been to that village. Through such a truth I have learned that the life of a celebrity is a demanding one. Prior to leaving the house, one of the sons confessed his need for Jesus Christ and we prayed with him there. This began the day of many mighty works from the King.

About halfway to our destination, I recognized that the road was getting awfully narrow. On one side was a perilous cliff while the other side went nearly straight up. Eventually the road ended with no apparent method of turning around and backing up was not an option. At that moment I was thinking in my mind, ‘I signed up to preach the gospel to the world, not drive around the bush in horrific conditions.’ Well, whether I signed up for it or not didn’t change the fact that we were in a terrible fix. The Kenyans saw no issue however as enough nationals can push, or lift, a vehicle anywhere.

We eventually got turned around and decided to leave the van to begin door to door evangelism. The first man we met was a fellow by the name of Mosoli. He was a true Kalenjin, understanding no English. On his head he wore a cap that said ‘Jesus loves you’ and over his shoulders was draped a blanket, their traditional covering. I haven’t a doubt that he found us white people rather novel and am sure in his eighty years of life he had never planned on seeing a white man.

Due to tremendous lingual issues, I had to speak to him through two translators: one from English to Swahili, the other from Swahili to Kalenjin. Yet in speaking to him although he was not saved, I learned that he had a strong grasp on his need for Jesus. The whole time he had been wearing a hat, proclaiming the love of Christ yet never knew it for himself. Ergo, there in the steady rain of Tendwet we dropped to our knees and he asked Jesus Christ to create him anew. What a blessing to see someone so old accept the Gospel! From there we visited several more homes with every inhabitant getting saved. It was a high day in Tendwet this Saturday as so many came into the kingdom.

Later in the day, after our lunch of rice and some sort of soup, we held an open air service in the main square of the village. No less than two hundred people were there, gathered to hear what manner of word was to be shared. The presentation of the Gospel came and several came forward to be saved, one being another old man from the village. Truly it was unusual to see so many older people coming to the faith; these things just don’t happen on a regular basis in Africa. Clearly the Lord was moving powerfully among the inhabitants of Tendwet!

We went to bed that night, after a meal of ugali and some collection of bitter greens. It was rather easy to fall sleep after having walked the hills of the area carrying the Gospel. Praise the Lord for his work, for He has done tremendous things in our midst!

The Narok Chronicles: Day 1

Much excitement surrounded our departure to Narok and naturally our targeted time of leaving at 10:30 did not happen. We had to drive through the slums to load up the van with far more cargo than I had anticipated. Instruments, a sound system, bags of clothes and a few extra passengers came aboard at the church. When all was said and done, we were ten strong and had enough cargo to run a large gospel crusade.

Our passengers were the following: Pastor Benard, associate pastor at Calvary in Kibera; Umbeo, a renown church member; Francis and Edward, worship leaders from Calvary; Benjamin, a keyboard player, singer and translator; Soi, a man who knew no English but knew the area we were going as it was his homeland (and was rather savvy with mechanical matters); and we four American folk. All of us joined as one to go minister in Narok. There we were, a merry band of ministers venturing down the road with yours truly at the wheel. I just learned a couple weeks ago how to drive a manual vehicle and now it was up to me to get us from the start to the end. This was going to be an interesting trip!

The drive began well but the van we were taking overheated not thirty minutes outside of Nairobi. We stopped, uncapped the volcanic radiator and added some water, a process we would have to repeat several times during the day. Regardless, we climbed the hill towards Kijabe and then zig-zagged across the rim of the Great Rift Valley into the plains. Driving through the flat expanses of the Rift Valley was a beautiful sight, allowing views of the dormant peaks which once were grand volcanoes. We were even afforded a glimpse of zebras, antelopes and a lone giraffe who looked mostly confused and lost.

It was not until four hours into the trip that I realized we were not going to Narok town but passing through, still in the Narok district. Our destination was two hours yet beyond the town through some of the roughest roads one could ever imagine. Ergo, the last two hours of time on the ‘road’ were some of the worst one could conceive in his mind. It was somewhat like a game, dodging the potholes but then the potholes disappeared, giving way to large gullies. The game was over, the sun had set and the van had been overheating even more.

I have come to learn that the estimations made by Kenyans are grossly low from the actual outcome. We were told that it is ‘not far’ from Narok town but as we wound through the bush of Africa, over roads that would be rough terrain for even the most capable vehicle, we learned that ‘not far’ is a relative term. The time was clicking along until we reached the hill. This was not just a hill; this was THE hill of all hills. As we were driving there we saw a storm in the distance about half an hour earlier but thought nothing of it. However, when we reached the hill, we realized where the storm was.

The paved road had ended a couple of hours back and thus the dirt road had become a large track of mud. About half way up the hill we were unable to go any farther due to the terrain; we had reached an impasse. In true form, we dismounted the vehicle and all pushed to see if we could budge the van up the muddy slide. We pushed and pushed, straining against the metal beast which fought back just as hard. Only by the grace of God and perhaps the assistance from unseen angels, we saw the van make it to the top of the hill.

We had nearly given up all hope and resorted to walking the rest of the way. One who had been there before told us it was only about a forty minute walk (gross exaggeration number two). Since we made it to the top, we drove to our final destination, which was perhaps fifteen to twenty minutes down the road. Walking that distance would clearly have taken twice the estimated time of forty minutes.

Upon arriving we were shown where we would make our berth and unloaded. The small hotel was just that. Ten of us were sharing three rooms that were the size of some closets I have seen in America. However, know that after all our travel, this hotel was the most luxurious place we could have imagined. Ergo, after some tea and a few cheese sandwiches, we made our way to the room to collapse and wake the next morning to discover what the place truly held.

And they came…

Last night as I was laying down my head for another night of rest here in Kibera, the rain began. It was no ordinary sprinkle but seemed more like torrents and sheets of water falling upon us. I fell asleep to this noisy downpour and awoke several times during the night to hear it continuing. This morning upon waking the rain was still going strong and the thought struck me that it would be a very muddy day here in the slums. However, in the back of my mind was a curiosity as to whether the termites alluded to a week or two ago would make themselves known.

In walking from our house to the community house I noticed there were several termites in the mud, obviously beaten into the ground by the rain. Their wings were too matted together and I thought they posed no threat. However, not half of an hour passed until I looked out to see columns of their vast numbers pouring out of the ground. They were finding escape in the smallest of holes and subsequently became airborne to fly wherever any good termite would fly.

I can’t say that it was of plague-like proportions all over the slum, but it just so happens that we live nearly atop one of their underground lairs. As they came forth in their vast hosts, some of the street boys came and were catching them. Knowing they were the ones who ate them I asked the best way to prepare one for a meal. They said it was important to take the wings off so they would not get caught in the throat. I thought that made sense so I pulled the wings off and ate the little thing to truly embody the Kenyan spirit. In my mind I was thinking, after all, ‘when in Rome.’ Perhaps that saying is a more secularized version of Paul ‘becoming as all men.’

Regardless, I shall not try to make any excuse for eating the small morsel; curiosity was the ruling factor more than anything else. The termites didn’t taste bad but I couldn’t agree that they tasted good either. One of the young lads nodded his head as I ate one saying, ‘very sweet.’ I nodded back in agreement but inwardly could not support the statement. After all was said and done I have concluded they are not so bad eating but if one was to make a meal of them it would take a whole lot more rain and a large net to capture the ones from the nest!