As most of you know, I worked as a missionary nurse for a year in Kenya. I worked in a small, rural hospital in the Western province in the pediatric ward as a charge nurse, fresh out of nursing school. A month after I started my work in Kenya, I had appendicitis and after several days of waiting and wondering, I had surgery in this rural hospital that I worked. After a week in the hospital, I was discharged and in true American fashion, I decided that I would do everything on my own, heal up a bit, and then continue my work in the hospital. However, I soon realized that recovering from a major surgery was not something that I could do alone, especially in a developing country where the simple things in life were not so simple ( i.e. doing laundry, cooking food, etc.) I asked around to find someone to help me and God brought me Jael, a 15 year old girl, who knew so much more about taking care of a house then I could even imagine. Jael lived with me, cooked with me, taught me Swahili, watched American movies with me, learned how to use a computer, and so much more for the 2 months she stay with me. We became extremely close and I visited her family in their home many weekends while we were together. Her family became my family and she became my sister through this experience. Even when she went to secondary school (a boarding school), we stayed close and we visited each other as much as we could. Leaving Kenya was so difficult, because I didn't know when I would return. Thankfully, because of this mission trip to Tanzania, I was able to return Kenya.
The morning I was supposed to leave Tanzania for Kenya, we had no power. I awoke at 3:30am to get to the airport by 6am. Festo, our trusty taxi driver and friend here, picked me up promptly at 4 am and we went to the airport. When I arrived, I couldn't find my passport anywhere. Of course, since we were "off the grid", I didn't have anyone to call in the event that I lost my passport. I looked at the girl at the counter and I pleaded in swahili, "Now what do I do?" She said, "just relax and look in your other bag". As I calmed myself and searched my bags, I found that I had put my passport and money in my big roller bag. "Stupid Mzungu!" I thought as I thanked the airport lady and I went inside. I filled out a form about who I was and why I was leaving the country and scanned my fingerprints (of course, I didn't have a pen and they didn't have pens for the public, so I had to beg an airport staff member to lend me his). The plane we drove in had external propellers, which was a little disconcerting for myself, but overall our flight went well.
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| Plane Propeller |
I had a few other minor issues in the Nairobi airport with getting my visa: picture the airport TSA lady holding my passport hostage while I ran down the street like a crazy, sweaty mzungu looking for an ATM that would accept my check card and then finding that the same airport lady accidentally put my visa in someone else's passport and gave the wrong passport to me (thank the Lord that I checked it before I crossed the street to the other terminal). As I waited for my final flight, I grabbed a REAL cup of coffee from the same care that I once sat at years ago when I first began my journey to Kenya...best cup of coffee EVER! My next flight was less than 45 minutes long and I landed in Kisumu, Kenya, which is in the western province, by Lake Victoria. It was so interesting to be see the difference in topography between the dusty brown flat area of Nairobi and the lush, green bluffs of Kisumu.
I landed in Kisumu and as I waited for my brother, Dan, to come pick me up from the airport in his new car, I purchased a different sim card for our Tanzanian phone--apparently the Tanzanian sim doesn't work in Kenya, even though it's the same company that sells it. As Dan pulled up, I saw Jael peak her head out the window of the back seat. The last time I saw her, she had short hair that she had recently shaved, as per the regulations of her boarding school. This time, since she had recently graduated from school, she had plaited her hair, so it was super long. She looked so grown-up! After a long embrace, we set off for our 2 hour journey back home. Imagine if I were to have used matatus to get home, it would have probably taken 3-4 hours!
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| Jael and I in the car from the airport |
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| Kenyan Family's Kitchen |
The next day, Jael and I walked to the local primary school, where Baba David is the principal. When I left, the school was not permanent, meaning it was made out of mud and wooden rods, so the kids actually would have to reapply mud to the school after the school day. Now, the school is permanent and made out of bricks. Of course, this is a small village in rural Kenya and I am the only white person around, so people get pretty excited when they see me and even more excited when they hear that I can speak some Swahili. A large group of class 2 (2nd grade) girls were following Jael and I for 30 of the 40 minutes it took us to walk back home. They were so giggly and cackled at me as I talked with them and almost got hit by the pikipiki (motorcycle).
Dan has a small duka (shop) near our family home that he and our other brothers, Derrick and Delwit, work at. Jael and I spent a lot of the rest of the day hanging out there with Derrick and taking selfies, which is probably one of Jael's favorite past-times.
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| Jael, Derrick, and Delwitt in the family duka |
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| Duka Selfies |
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| Duka Selfies |
The next day we went to Jael's school, so she could get her transcripts for her college. We rode a pikipiki (motorcycle) part of the way to her school...yes 2 of us plus a driver on one motorcyle. I about died, and of course, I chose that day of all days to wear a jean skirt (not a lot of "give" to straddle a motorcycle). We survived the pikipiki adventure and went to the office to get clearance from the school to get her transcripts, which entails each of her teachers signing off that she doesn't owe any money for lost items. This was a much longer process than I realized and we ended up staying there all day, waiting for her teachers to walk by so we could have them sign off for her. This left me a little sunburned and crabby, but it was worth the wait, because she did end up getting her transcripts. Jael said that some people have to do this process for several days before successfully being "cleared" and getting their transcripts!
Soon after we arrived home we found that our other sister, Sylvia, had journeyed home from her work. She is currently working in the town "Mukumu" in a duka (shop) near the hospital that I used to work at. It's about an hour and a half car ride. Sylvia loves to talk and tell stories, so of course when she arrived home she told us this hilarious story about a customer who didn't pay for a soda and she chased after him and ended up in a funeral procession van that was driving away, pleading with him to give her the money for the soda and screaming for them to stop the van. She didn't have any money or phone with her, so the man took pity on her and gave her the money for the soda plus her the money for her fair back to the shop in a matatu. She better put that one down on her resume!
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| Sylvia and I in her duka |
The night for dinner, we had kuku (chicken), which is customary to make for an honored guest, and Jael and Mama brought out a cake that they had baked at Mama's house at the hospital, where she lives during the week. The tradition is the "Honored Guest" cuts the cake and then feeds a piece to each person in the room, from the oldest man to the youngest woman. Kenyans really know how to welcome a person home!
The next day Sylvia left early in the morning to return back to work in Mukumu, she had only come to see me. Jael and I had planned to go to the nearby town called Kapsabet, which I have never been to, but I decided that we should go to Mukumu so we could surprise Sylvia and I could see the hospital again. After riding in 2 matatus stuffed with people (and a live chicken), we arrived. Sylvia was so surprised!
Going to the hospital was so surreal, but most of the people I knew there had moved to different places, so I didn't greet to many people. Currently, the wards are stuffed full of people because and the doctors of public hospitals in Kenya have been on strike for more than 80 days and Mukumu is a private hospital, so they had doctors! It made me think about the nursing strike that we had in Minnesota for over a month. I can't imagine not having any doctors for almost 3 months and the strike is still on with no signs of agreement!
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| The children's ward where I worked |
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| The Surgical Theater where I had surgery |
We visited with Sylvia and a friend of Jael's for a while and of course we had to head in to Khayega, where the local free market is. Saturday is the biggest market day in Khayega, so there were lots of people around, including many men on pikipikis (motorcycles) taunting, "Mzungu, Mzungu. How are you?!" We ate at a restaruant in Khayega and headed back to Mukumu to visit with Sylvia and bring her lunch.
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| Khayega Market |
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| Corn Mill |
We arrived home late in the evening, but in time to eat dinner and go to sleep. As is our family tradition, we sat around the living room, ate dinner and watched the news in both Swahili and English.
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| Welcome Cake |
The next day was a pretty melancholy one for me as I had to say goodbye to my family early in the day to travel back to the airport. Baba joked that he was going to lock me in the house so I couldn't leave and that Brian would just have to cry and do nothing about it. After taking many pictures and saying goodbye to Mama, Baba, Derrick, and the family dogs Scooby and Rex (who is actually a girl); Baba said a final safe journey prayer in Swahili and we set off in Dan's car for the airport. Along the way, we spotted a matatu with a giant picture of Trump on the back, which we all thought was hilarious, so I of course had to take a picture.
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| Trump Matatu |
Saying goodbye to Del, Dan, and Jael was pretty gut-wrenching and emotional for me because I just don't know when I will be able to travel back to see them! I am so thankful that I was able to travel to see them; I just wish I had had more time to see them and the other friends that I left in Kenya.
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| Last Selfie |
I arrived back at the airport and found our trusty taxi driver, Festo, waiting for me. Apparently, he had misunderstood me on the timing, and had arrived at 12pm instead of 6pm. Oops! Thanks Festo!
It was an awesome adventure and I can't wait to go back!
Until Kesho,
Nat
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