A host of events occurred since the last listed post on this vehicle of information sharing. However, due to some internet difficulties in Kenya, I was unable to post and switched to scottwilliams.myadventures.org. You can find all the lost archives of life betwixt then and now at this locale.

Regardless, I will do the best imaginable to keep this up and running along with the other, depending on whichever you prefer.

On January 9, 2008, I will be leaving the Piedmont Triad Airport in the late afternoon to head back to the place we called home for so long, Kenya. When I return I will find new living quarters, a new team (arriving shortly after myself), and yet still the same delightful people the Lord blessed us with on the last stint.

This time around will find us all having learned more from the King of Kings, having greater expectations and in a few new avenues of ministry. I know these will all be fantastically orchestrated by our Guide and His glory will be seen at every junction. Praise be unto Him and all gratitude owed Him in advance for all that which He accomplishes.

Rebirth in the Compound…

After arriving back to our place on Sunday evening, I was rather tired from the day’s full schedule and the wearying return, in tow with the drunken Masai. I entered our compound and unpacked my things, finishing a few matters of business before I embraced the comfort of the bedchambers. Just as I was to go to bed I heard a knock at the door produced from the efforts of Moses, one of our delightful guards at night. He informed me that the weekend night guard wanted to be saved. A spark leapt within my soul and I went out to talk to him.

I discovered that they had been discussing some wonderful issues when I arrived and the other guard realized that although he had lived properly, he could not recall when he decided to make Jesus Christ his Savior and Lord. He shared a few words revealing his need and proper understanding and prayed the sinner’s prayer then and there.

It really was a delightful end to a busy weekend as new life was found in our own compound. How great are the ways of the Lord and the work He allows us humans to participate in! May He be praised!

Return From Nakuru...

After the night of sufficient sleep, we awoke to a sunny morning there in Ronda. We walked to the pastor’s house for some breakfast consisting of plenty of tea and some buttered bread (a definite staple regarding breakfast in Kenya). Again I found the television was on, broadcasting some preaching from Mombasa. We watched this for some time and found that even though Sunday School was to begin at 9:00, the pastor did not leave his own house until nearly 10:00. We followed him about half an hour later and found that the church numbers were down to about six or seven as we lost some of the pastors in attendance from the day before.

Service technically began at 10:00 and was said to last until 1:00. Jackson, my traveling companion shared a few words regarding the Prayer of Jabez after about an hour of singing. Fortunately the Prayer of Jabez has not become so commercialized here in Kenya, being displayed upon paper weights, t-shirts, letter openers, coffee mugs, pens, socks, tattoos, belts and the sort as one may find in the USA. This being the case allowed those people to have never heard the concept and they accepted it with open arms.

It was my turn after some more singing to bring the preaching although it was after 12:00 at that point. It seems to me that if the main service doesn’t start until after the noon hour that it should really be considered an afternoon meeting. Nevertheless, not wanted to get caught up in the technical, I brought a message about the all surpassing glory of the Spirit dwelling inside earthen vessels. It was received well, although with a few less ‘amens’ than the previous crowd.

Service ended for the ‘morning’ session and we were told the elders and pastors wanted a meeting before the afternoon session. We met with them in which they presented their requests and desires for the church, things like new instruments (the Kenyan term involving anything to do with the sound system or keyboard) and so forth. I must say that the small meeting place they had merited no need for a sound system as the human voice was strong enough. Nevertheless, the one they had seemed to do the trick and I am sure it will last for some time. Also they wanted some guidance for the sake of evangelism and reaching the community as they knew nothing of the matter. This was certainly an area that will be focused on and after I am gone Jackson will continue to be assisting them in that area.

The afternoon hours passed on and although we desired to leave by 3:30 pm to head back to Nairobi, the church tied us to another session that began abruptly at the 3:30 hour. Due to our need to reach Nairobi before the late hours we moved quickly and I preached a very short sermon on the imminent return of Jesus Christ. The torrential rains subsided just as we finished and by 5:00 we were on our way by the return matatu to Nairobi. As we were boarding our chariot to be carried back home, we noticed a very drunk Masai man who was in the vehicle. He was not just a bit tipsy but terribly drunk and I knew that would make the ride all the more interesting.

Not more than thirty minutes into our journey he began yelling and complaining loudly in Swahili. I learned that he was complaining of having a full bladder. The shouting probably continued for another hour until the driver finally stopped to provide a reprieve to the full bladdered man as well as the passengers affected by his vocal protests. He warned him strongly to keep it down and he did for the next hour or so until his bladder again grew full. He began repeating himself but to no avail, the driver refused to stop.

We were almost in town when the matatu blew a tire and we were forced to stop. The inebriated passenger was convinced the driver stopped on his behalf and after taking care of business told the driver it was time to go. However, at this point the driver was addressing the needs of the tire and within thirty minutes we were back in transit. We reached town and hopped another matatu to bring us back here to Kibera. By 9:00 we were back in our places of domicile, reeling from the wild journeys of the weekend!

Nakuru Revisited: The Going

Not long ago our neighbor and friend, Jackson Atsango, asked if I would like to go to Nakuru with him to minister at a church he knew of. I checked the schedule and longing for a chance to get away, gladly accepted the invitation. This past Saturday we departed to spend the afternoon there and the first portion of Sunday. The last time I was in Nakuru was in 2005 when I was here with AIM’s ambassador one month team. Although our time there was not entirely the best experience of the city, I thought I would give it another go. I knew the journey would take about four hours but wanted to put the notion to a test. Gross underestimations seem to be rather prevalent here and I was told shortly before leaving that I could be in Nakuru in thirty minutes, a far cry from four hours. Nevertheless, we left at 9:00 Saturday morning and indeed arrived in Nakuru shortly after 1:00 pm.

As we were passing through the town of Nakuru, I saw no small crowd of people walking near us carrying signs, each one progressing in like step. At first I was sure it was some sort of political sort of protest as they have been increasing in number with the soon arriving elections this winter. Nevertheless, they neared and I noticed they were a peculiar looking people, wearing potato sacks and some looked as if they had gotten into a fight with a large mound of talcum powder. I read the sign and then realized the nature of their march. They were advertising a national day of repentance to take place this coming weekend. I think they were calling for the entire nation of Kenya to come to their knees and repent for the various moral ails the country has fallen into. More to come on this.

Upon our arrival in the city itself, I was told we were to go to a slum on the outskirts of town called Ronda. Thinking this name was a bit peculiar for an African slum, I inquired of its origin. It was not at all in any Kenyan dialect but named for some settlers who previously owned the area. In its glory day it was a large garden, providing food and delights for its Western owners. These days it is one of the largest slums in Nakuru. In either case, that solved the origin of the name.

We found our way to the pastor’s house and sat there talking for some time, eventually moseying over to the church to begin our afternoon session. Upon arrival at the church I saw that we were not going to have any problem with crowd control. The church was filled with around nine people, five of whom were pastors and three of those five were from other churches. I could tell it was probably best to go into a home church sort of atmosphere to keep things simple. Moreover, realizing that we were in an area steeped in syncretism, mixing traditional beliefs with the Word of God, I spoke about Jesus being the only way, truth and life. I learned later that at its beginning stages the church was led by a woman who used charms and spells to assist the members of the congregation, a bit of a no-no according to the Word.

The afternoon session ended near the hour of six o’clock and we went back to the house of the pastor for some supper. Since they had very little I felt as if we were taking the very food from their mouths but ate as we were commanded. Despite their low financial position, they did have electricity and a television in their small one roomed dwelling. I have not watched TV in some time and got caught up on all the news around the country. After the news was a Kenyan favorite, Walker Texas Ranger. Everyone here seems to know Chuck Norris and delight greatly in him as the Texas Ranger. Sometimes we get requests asking if we know him. After Chuck Norris came another Kenyan favorite, Dance 360. It is some sort of program from the Western world where people randomly dance for cash prizes and iPods and the sort.

The entertainment faded on the television as did our energy levels. We walked some distance to a small motel sort of place where we were to spend the night. The place we stayed was right over a bar which played loud music until the wee hours of the morning. Nevertheless, we did get some good sleep and rose the next day to embrace whatever it would bring.

The Road to Eldoret: Part 3

Sunday morning dawned upon Eldoret, finding us well rested and more prepared to take on the day that was before us. Eating a bit of leftover food from the night before and drinking perhaps a gallon of tea each, we set out for the church. Service began at 9:30, when we arrived, and we were met with more singing and rejoicing. Jackson had been called upon to lead the Sunday School portion and he did so, talking about forsaking fear and its effects. After he finished I suppose the regular service, as it was called, began. More singing came in which one of the ladies leading the procession began shaking violently. I am not certain what she was accomplishing but everyone seemed okay with it so I went along with things.

After a bit of singing the young children came in, singing songs that were distinctly Western. Their first selection was Soon and Very Soon We Are Going to See The King. I wondered if that was one they practiced because an English speaking fellow was coming to the church. Whatever the case, it was delightful to hear them all join in unison to sing a song that I have never before heard in Africa. Following them was more singing and more shaking and then the call for me to come and address the crowd.

Far more people had gathered than from the previous day as the number of fifteen had been left in the distance. With a packed room I began preaching on the imminent return of Jesus Christ and the need for urgency to complete His work among the church. I gave all I could, making sure my last time speaking with them was up to par. Jackson told me we would have the Sunday morning service and that was all. So I finished, ready for a bit of a break and maybe some time to see a bit more of Eldoret that I may know where I was.

The pastor stood and through a translator I understood lunch was coming and then we would reconvene for the last session. He said they would all be in anticipation until then to hear what I would close our time together with. Woops. I missed that somehow in the translation earlier or, in true African fashion, it just wasn’t mentioned. So we went to a lunch of more slaughtered chicken and I was thinking about what the Lord would have us talk about. In my mind a few things were bouncing around and I was getting more set to give it one more go.

When we came back after lunch the singing cranked back up and the shaking lady went into her antics once again. The people were getting more and more wound up and after about a half an hour I heard a great commotion behind me. Out of my periphery I saw this gal waving violently about and some ladies trying to get a hold of her. My immediate thought was that she was demon possessed, which would certainly change the course of the service as we would then need some sort of deliverance message. However, once again no one seemed to be worried so it appeared that her thrashing and tearing off through the chairs was also a scene of normalcy.

Rain had started its pitter patter outside and as we were winding down with worship it began gaining in strength. I was introduced once again, this time the PA system fighting with the loud clamor of the rain. By the time I stepped up front, the rain had turned into a roar upon the metal roof and it was all the one speaker could do to magnify my voice and the translators above its din. Nevertheless, I lit into preaching on the topic of spiritual armor and warfare in the kingdom.

No more than twenty minutes into the progression of speaking the power went out which means I lost both the light and the PA system. The black clouds did their job blocking out enough light that I couldn’t read the Bible in that dark hall and now it was me fighting with the rain’s yell. Fortunately the Lord birthed in me a rather loud mouth, which I was often chided over in my formative years. Moreover, He brought to my mind the remembrance of His Word so we were able to continue without skipping a beat. By 6:00 we finished our time there, having educated and exhorted the people as much as possible. The rain eventually surrendered and the power even came back on as we were leaving the church. The members were delightful and very kind in their regards and blessings.

Upon finishing we went back to Paris’ house for, you guessed it, more chai and some fellowship. Some opportunistic pastors cornered us in the house seeking money and several weeks of our time to spend in the area going to their churches. Unfortunately we had neither to give them and they left with seemingly frustrated looks on their faces. The entire time they were there, those three ducks that lived in the house were fighting under the couch. Occasionally one would bite me in the ankle whereby I would return his gesture with a kick in the head. I am still not sure if they were pets or being fattened up for a future meal. Either way they were not going to make it long if they continued their behavior.

The 9:00 hour rolled around and we boarded our bus, having one more cup of chai and bidding our new friends farewell. We had the same bus driver as we had on the way to Eldoret, who did not know the way nor how to avoid large potholes. However, by great fortune we had no drunk people harassing the passengers and we made it back in only seven hours. So, in less than 50 hours we had gone to Eldoret, held a revival and made it back to Nairobi in one piece. Heading back to our house at 4:30 in the morning a verse from 1 Peter 4:11 was coursing through my mind, “If anyone serves, he should do it with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ.” I was overjoyed to be reminded we are doing the work of the Lord and with His energy, so I only play a small part in that equation. This was a good feeling to know that He did His work and I got to go along for the very quick but fulfilling ride!

The Road to Eldoret: Part 2

Having arrived in the great city of Eldoret at 6:00 am, I was somewhat weary. However, we had no time to sleep as we were soon met at the bus depot by Jackson’s cousin, Paris. She led us onto a matatu that dropped us close to her home where we would be spending most of our time when not at the church. Once dawn broke upon the land she took us for a quick tour of the slum area surrounding us, called Haruma. We came back to her house after observing the clear distinctions between that slum and the one in which we usually dwell. The slums there have far more room and even areas to have gardens that bring forth a fair amount of food.

Back at Paris’ house we drank what would become many cups of Kenyan chai, a staple to any day. One once told me he could go many days without eating without even skipping a beat, yet to miss a dose of chai was to send him to an immediate lethargic state. Whatever the case, it is not something to be overlooked. Many spoke less English than expected, so as they conversed I found myself slipping into punctuated periods of slumber. Then the waking statement came: time to go to the church.

The time was probably 10:30 and we walked about seven minutes away to a small corner building with a large megaphone looking speaker poking out of an open window. Inside fifteen or so believers gathered, singing to the fullness of their being. Certainly being the only white person there in the whole slum drew enough attention and we were paraded up to the front where several plastic chairs had been reserved for us. I was told I would be speaking that morning but I was unsure at what time or how long they desired, but first worship must run its full course. They sang, danced and praised their way into the heavenly throne room and then it was time for the message. We were introduced but I was able to gather that it still was not our time and then it became clear: the first speaker had to share his word; then it would be my time.

I will confess and be honest in saying that I fell asleep through the most part of the preacher’s diatribe. Naturally I would like to be able to admit that I have never found myself asleep during a service but after traveling over miles of harrowing and sleepless roads I just didn’t have it in me. Somehow I awoke towards the end of his message, the content of which I still don’t know. It was just in time to come to our feet and sing a bit more and then the microphone was handed to me. The moment of truth had come, was their any way I could somehow gather enough energy to tell these people something important from the Word of God?

After a brief prayer, inwardly pouring out all manner of desperation to overcome the flesh, I begin sharing on becoming a living sacrifice from Romans 12. The ideas going in my mind was preparing these people for the service of God there in Haruma. So we began with getting the power of God to them, with the goal of moving to getting the power of God through them and culminating with the urgency of God’s work in their midst. I remained awake during the time I was speaking which was certainly a blessing and led us to the hour of 2:00.

We broke for lunch that had been prepared by the ladies of the church. No doubt they had slaughtered a few chickens earlier that morning and they fed us quite well. Now, not only was I full but content and partnered with the level of fatigue, I was certain to fall asleep while standing on my two feet. Lunch brought a conversation predominantly in Swahili but I have learned that if you laugh when other people laugh it helps things to go a bit more smoothly. Perhaps some of those times I have been laughing at comments made at myself but I am none the wiser and I am sure they are entertained so everyone is still on good terms.

The post-lunch era brought more singing and dancing, leading up to session two, or maybe three; I can’t quite recall what they called it at that point. I began once again, this time teaching about the Holy Spirit’s arrival and His enabling of us to be ambassadors of Christ from 2 Corinthians 5. The people seemed to be with the idea or either the translator was doing damage control, repairing what I was saying, who is to be the wiser? Nevertheless, we finished around 6:00 and had just enough time to run to the bus depot so as to gather tickets for the next night’s trip out of there.

Fortunately we were not sleeping in Paris’ house as there would have scarcely been enough room for her, her husband and children if we were to have invaded. Plus there were three geese that slept in the house who I would have hated to tangle with in the middle of the night. Ergo, we took a side journey to the house of a fellow named Adam, where we were able to bed down for the night. He had a nice place, complete with a black and white television. He had placed some sort of blue-hued plastic sheet over the TV so it wasn’t really black and white but only various shades of blue.

All of that made no difference as I was ready to sleep and for a very long time. However, before sleep they demanded that we eat something. At that point food was a secondary need compared to sleep, but so as not to offend, I hung on to the waking hours long enough to eat a bit of stew. The moments following are not lodged into my memory but I know they culminated with me laying down my weary head. Slumber came quickly and I fell into the land of dreams and the sleepy passage of time.

The Road to Eldoret: Part 1

A dear friend here, Jackson Atsango, had been talking about venturing to Eldoret to do some ministry there. I wasn’t paying attention to the dates of the trip but realized I had only a day and a half after arriving back from Eburru to get things in order to go. I will be honest and confess that I did not have everything in readiness upon the time to depart, but the Lord was gracious in His dealings with us. Friday night, after teaching at the school, Jackson came by with the announcement that we would be leaving in ten minutes. I was only halfway packed so I threw in the remaining items, knowing not whether I would need them or not.

We hiked down to the matatu stage and jumped a van bound for the bus depot. Our bus was to leave at 10:00 pm but would be boarding at 9:30 pm. The matatu took us to our destination in downtown Nairobi and we arrived in ample time to board and get settled in. By great foresight, Jackson bought our bus tickets in advance and selected the front two seats of the left side of the bus, ensuring plenty of leg room and no chance of claustrophobic reactions. As we settled into our seats, the other passengers filed on, all conducting unknown business in our final destination of Eldoret.

Just prior to the bus pulling away, a fellow boarded the bus who was terribly hunched over, staring blankly into the rows of seats and drooling slightly. I was confused at his appearance and then it became evident that he was drunk beyond all proper definitions of the word. He was escorted to his seat by the bus conductor and I was wondering if he would pass out on the way to be seated. The bus left the depot with a jolt and we were on our way to a place that I had never dreamed I would go.

Around thirty minutes into our transit, I noticed a dark suited figure approaching in my periphery. The lights on the bus had been turned off but the passing headlights revealed the face to belong to that drunk fellow who nearly missed the bus. He began complaining in Swahili to my traveling companion and was redirected to the bus conductor. In asking Jackson what he said, he revealed that the man was saying he had no seat and in his drunken stupor thought that he was the bus conductor. Someone in the meantime the drunkard became unsatisfied and sat down in the aisle of the bus, refusing to move in an almost childlike posture of pouting.

The bus conductor was able to get him up and back to his seat, only for the same process to be repeated several more times over the next hour. I could not understand the heated conversation in Swahili other than the fact that if he didn’t shape up, they were going to leave him on the side of the road. As we neared Naivasha, the bus driver pulled over at a police check point, dismounted the vehicle and explained the situation to several policemen. A rather large Kenyan man entered the bus and began speaking with the drunk man who refused to leave the bus. After the policeman forced him out of the bus he became very humble and apologetic yet it was too late. They put him in the local jail for the night that he may become sober and find some transport the next day.

We had already lost one passenger on the trip and I wondered what other kind of nonsense would ensue during our trip there. The blackness of the night did not permit any views of the surrounding land other than the knowledge that it was vast and spacious. However, the headlights did a good job of illuminating the pothole filled road which the driver had a difficult time dodging. Due to the quality of the road and the elementary skill of the driver, sleep did not come which was a small problem as we were to begin ministry early in the morning. The time passed slowly but provided ample opportunity for thinking about life’s important questions, like what would happen if someone were to splice the DNA of a mosquito and an elephant, or what if a giraffe really did get a sore throat, what then? Anyhow, at 6:00 am on the nose we pulled into the bus depot in Eldoret. Little did I know the adventure that would be waiting around the corner.