Travelling into the Unknown

It took three full days of travel before I reached Mukumu.  Of course, this post will be quite long winded because there is just so much to tell.

Detroit and that Crazy Airline Representative:

Sitting on the plane in the Metro-Detroit Airport listening to my favorite CD by NeedtoBreathe, hot tears streaming down my blotchy cheeks, I began my journey as a nomad working my way towards Africa.  It really hadn’t hit me that I was leaving for a year until I reached the airport.  But, this was only half of the reason I was creating a puddle in my lap.  Of course, this wouldn’t be a story unless God threw me a curve ball somewhere along the way.  I had had trouble getting on the plane because my printed ticket stated that I needed a visa to leave.  However, I had been informed by CMMB that I didn’t need to obtain a visa until I arrived in Nairobi.  The attendant was rather irritated and brash as she scolded me for not having my visa and told me that she could not let me have a boarding pass.  She argued back and forth with me as I try to explain that I was told to buy my visa when I arrived in Nairobi.  She was not going to let me get on the plane!  My stress-o-meter maxed out at this point and I began to bawl my brains out.  Finally, by the grace of God (and after a stern tongue-lashing from my dad and a quick check of the airline rules and regulations), she decided to ‘let’ me keep my boarding pass and continue towards my flight.  However, my anxiety was not relieved because she sternly warned me that I may be sent back home on any of my upcoming flights because I had no visa.  I knew that I had received an email sent from St. Elizabeth’s Hospital that welcomed me to Mukumu, Kenya for a year and I decided that I needed to download that onto my computer as proof that I would be doing missionary work in Kenya.  I paid a lovely $10 for use of the internet café in the airport, so I could download the welcome note.  For everyone’s information, no else even inquired about where my visa was or for proof of my work.  In fact, when I arrived in Nairobi they hardly even asked me questions, they just asked for my 50 bucks and gave me a visa.  Sidnote, as I was going through security, they randomly searching my bag (which was stuff extremely full) and took my beloved peanut butter, saying that they counted it as a liquid!  WHAT?!  You enjoy that peanut butter, dirt-bag.

Amsterdam and the concert at Carnegie Hall:

When I arrived in the Amsterdam airport, I had almost a three hour delay until my flight left for Nairobi, so I figured that I would wander a bit to waste some time.  As I trekked through the airport, I heard the familiar clinking of the keys to a piano and I immediately had to venture towards the sound (kind of like a radiant bug lamp).  Sure enough, as I walked towards a very contemporary looking lounge, there was a little girl carefully plunking out her very own magnificat.  I patiently waited until she was satisfied with her performance and left the bench, all the while too embarrassed to figure out how to sit in the avant-garde chairs that filled the lounge.  As I strolled up to the Baby Grand Kawaii, I noted a sign on the piano that stated anyone and everyone was allowed to play it.  It just so happens that I threw a couple of piano books in my carry-on, just in case.  Thank the Lord!  This was exactly what I needed to calm my nerves and to make me feel less alone in this very big airport.  I began to play the songs in the books and the people who had been slumbering in the lounge awoke and perked up their ears.  I seriously felt like I was having my very own concert in the renowned Carnegie Hall.  People stopped in their tracks to listen to the music and stare at this grubby-looking American with her bulky luggage, playing the piano.  When I finally decided that I had played a little too long and needed to get back to my gate, the entire lounge applauded and one woman thanked me profusely as I walked by.  That was definitely my ego boost for the day.  I had this strong urge to proclaim: “Thank you!  I’ll be here all week!”  haha.

Nairobi and the kind-of-sort-of-not-really Banana:

After another long 8 hour flight from Amsterdam to Nairobi (I would’ve rather plucked my eyes out with venom-infested bamboo shoots than sit in that crammed plane for another minute), I arrived in Nairobi, met by my kind driver, Francis, who took me to the CHAK guest house.  Sidenote, there are these freakin’ gargantuan birds sitting in the trees along the road that are 1.5 meters in height and basically can digested bone into liquid…don’t want to turn your back on those babies!  The CHAK house was beautiful hotel that had a garden in the middle (instead of a swimming pool like in America).  It was a wonderful place where I had my first taste of Kenyan food (I put what looked like a banana on my plate, but it tasted bland and —nothing like a banana).  The next morning, I met the branch of CMMB in Nairobi and got to see a familiar face in Anand, one of the volunteer coordinators from New York that I had been working with.  It was a very tiring day as I was extremely jet-lagged and I really didn’t do much.

Kisumu and the American Jesus:

The next day, I was off to the airport again, where I would fly to Kisumu and meet Patricia (my roommate) and Martha (The nursing school principal).  At this point, I was feeling very alone and afraid, sitting all by myself at an airport café, where I could even buy myself some breakfast or coffee because I hadn’t exchanged any money yet and they (like most places in Kenya) do not take credit cards.

Enter Daniel:  Daniel, a clearly American looking man wearing blue jeans, a hoodie, and a red bandana, had requested to sit at my tiny little table, stating, “You look like a familiar face” (not gonna lie, this guy looked a little like a modern day Jesus).  Being a skeptical traveller, I gave him a visual pat-down to ensure that he wasn’t going to scam me and steal everything I owned.  As he sat drinking his Kenyan coffee, he told me his story.  He was also going to Kisumu where his friend was running an orphanage.  He would stay for two weeks and get the lay of the land to ensure that the area would be safe for his two boys and wife to come live.  He was such a wonderful person, encouraging me that I would be just fine because God would protect me.  He asked if I was a Christian and I flashed him the devotional that I had been reading as he approached me, so we talked a while about how we both had felt a strong calling to Africa.  He took another small sip of his coffee and exclaimed that it was possibly the best coffee he’d ever tasted and he offered me a sip.  As this sweet nectar of the gods caressed each of my taste buds, I thought to myself, “With coffee like this, I can survive anything”.  He assured me that I should buy a cup because it was extremely cheap.  I sheepishly told him that I had no money and without hesitation, Daniel handed me a 1000 Kenyan Shilling (roughly $10) and said, “You have to get some.  Just bring me back the change”.  I waited in line, all the while glancing back at him to ensure that he wasn’t stealing any off my stuff.  Best.  Coffee.  Ever!  We chatted for a little longer and soon after, he needed to leave, but not before we said a prayer, exchanged emails, and he handed me another devotional that he said was excellent.  As he was leaving he smiled and said, “If we meet again, you owe me a cup of coffee.”  God is so good.  He placed this man, Daniel, along my path when I felt so weak, to let me know that he would always be here for me.

Mukumu and the crazy Kenyan Drivers:

I finally arrived in Kisumu early that morning where Patricia (my roommate) and Martha (the nursing school principal) met me.  It was so amazing to see a familiar face that I ran up to her and gave her a big hug.  We went travelled into the town of Kisumu via the school’s van and Patricia and I exchanged our American money for Kenyan Shillings at the Bank.  Unfortunately, I had a one hundred dollar bill that they would not exchange because it was too old (granted it was okay that they gave me mushy old Kenyan bills).  As we travelled the 70 km toward Mukumu, I noticed that Mukumu had much more green foliage than Nairobi.  About every kilometer or so, there is a speed bump on the road.  Kenyans are crazy aggressive drivers, swerving into oncoming traffic to pass another car and not slowly down for pedestrians.  Sidenote, the anti-malarials that I have to take every day make me very nauseous, so riding on a bumpy road in a swerving van for an hour and a half is not very conducive to my condition.  I also noticed that almost everyone owns a cow, but the poor cows have barely anything to eat, so you can see their rib cages.  Where’s PETA when you need them…  We finally arrived at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital and I saw my house which is way bigger than what it looks like in pictures.  It’s not without a few resident critters, but it is home.  Karibu.