Excursion to the Coast

Day 10 –

“The day is finally here! We are at the bus station with Pastor waiting to be whisked away to Mombasa and finally, Kwale. I feel encouraged, excited, and nervous all at the same time. I’m getting over a cold, but God is good and He will provide.”

            The day started at 4 am for Silvia, me, and several other teammates as we were to leave early for our assignment destinations. My dear roommate and I grumbled a bit as we stumbled down to breakfast with our luggage and baggy eyes in the chill of the morning to eat and thank the staff of Watakatifu Wote Senta for being our hosts. We all were loaded into the bus and each team was dropped off with their escort/host as the remaining teams waved farewell. Pastor, Bea, and I got to the bus station and waited for what felt like hours as we dozed and watched as venders walked past us putting their items in our faces. Our host dad waited outside with our luggage while my partner and I sat on a bench inside, but he came to check on us periodically. That was the first indication (and not the last) that he would be a good, protective, fatherly figure to us.
            We got on the bus and prepared to be sitting for most of the eight to ten hours to Mombasa. It was a very nice bus and reminded us of a plane because they gave us snacks and drinks. They even played well known movies, but I tried not to watch. For one thing, it was a huge oddity for me to see modern videos and it gave me an unnerving feeling (besides the fact that we agreed to purge ourselves from most technology during our seven weeks).  As tired as I was, it was so difficult for me to peel my eyes off of the scenery as we traveled outside of Nairobi even to journal or read the book my sister gave me. Seeing the browner land and flat-topped trees was enough to stir my excitement and wonder at how diverse the landscape was, even an hour outside the green hills of Ngong. However, the driving and traffic on the Kenya roads was a little different than I was used to: a little less organized and smooth. Yet, I sighed and settled into the reality of what was to come because I knew I would be protected in every situation. I chatted with Bea a bit here and there during our journey and hoped that I would not be facing much conflict with her (I had heard stories about ill-suited ministry partners) and that we would grow close together in friendship and support each other.
            Before we got to our destination, the bus stopped in a small town/attraction called Mtito, in short, (I cannot remember the full name) for a rest. I had an adventure using the facilities – I probably stared at it for five minutes trying to figure out how to use it but I eventually had it mastered. Pastor pointed us to an enclosed area that held the biggest vultures I have ever laid my eyes upon. They were eventually nicknamed “pterodactyls” by one of my teammates when we saw some resting on a tree in the city. Back on the bus, we continued through barren land occasionally spotted with houses, towns, and vendors and taking another short stop in Voi (the town Pastor was from). We then arrived in Mombasa after crossing a bridge and stopped at the station. An American woman was trying to ask Bea and me for directions but we were useless. On one hand, it proved that we looked like we had been there for a while, but on the other…we had no clue where her destination was no matter how much she tried to explain. This all was happening as we were getting off the bus, grabbing our luggage, and trying to stay close to Pastor as to not get lost. Finally, we met a friendly face, whose smiles instantly were a comfort from all of the chaos Bea and I felt. Pastor led us to a van and introduced us to our driver (Evans) who works at Mombasa Pentecostal, and we were taken to the church right away to meet people there. The church was pretty large and pleasing to the eye and we ventured up a spiral staircase to meet Sally (Pastor’s sister-in-law) and another gentleman who worked at the church.
       I felt a little overwhelmed after a long bus ride and from trying not to offend everyone, so I was on guard and probably looked stiff sitting there in the chair. I would repeat instructions to myself, “Shake his hand this way, smile, say your name…my name is, oh yeah, Missy. Oh, maybe I should say Melissa; it is easier to remember for them. Keep talking. Listen to what they are saying, silly. Oh, wait…it’s in Swahili.” Everyone we met was so gracious and friendly which helped, but my mind wasn’t as much at ease even though I smiled and laughed. My brain was going crazy and it wouldn’t turn off for a while. I could tell I wasn’t alone; Bea had that star-struck look about her too and was quiet.
      Let me pause here and give you some more information on the culture. There are many different kinds of handshakes used to greet people for different purposes. We were told to figure out the meaning of each one during our orientation because one shake is used when greeting your elders and important people, one is for your peers, one for good friends…etc. It was definitely confusing, but if you think about it, we have different ways of greeting people depending on our relationship with the other person; there is just more distinction in Kenya (let me know if you want me to show you some). Also, Kenya is not so much worried about time as we are here in the States. Like at the beginning of this entry, I stated that Bea, Pastor and I waited for the bus for hours. Patience isn’t a lesson these people have to learn. Efficiency isn’t their goal because it was more relational than that. It was wonderful just letting go of my impatience and being still as I waited.

Moving on:
      Evans and Pastor led us back to the 12 passenger van, and we were off to Kwa…oh wait. Nope. To the supermarket first for Pastor to pick up a few things; it was a lot like our King Soopers. Surprised? I finally had the brain power to notice that the air and temperature was definitely more intense in Mombasa compared to the elevation of Nairobi, and it was humid even in the evening. Climbing back in the van for the last time, we headed to the ferry to cross over and continue our journey to Kwale. Pastor seemed a little worried about us at that moment and we soon discovered why:
”The American girls who came last year, they were scared of the ferry. *laughs* Don’t worry, it won’t sink, its strong.”
       The moon shone gloriously as we waited for the ferry to doc again (it was a short ride), and then Evans drove the van to our new home in the village of Matuga as I looked out the window to observe the vegetation in the darkness while my heart’s excitement was brimming. The air was suddenly cooler than what we felt in the city as we drove up to the house, a concrete slab with charming house atop that used to be owned by a missionary. The doors of the van were opened and we were instantly greeted by our new mama and Pastor’s wife, Nora, and their two-year-old daughter, Blessings. Her smiling face was enough to make me feel at ease instantly. We were ushered into the house, through the living room, and put our luggage in one of two bedrooms that we would share with the sweet house help, Josephine. With no lunch in our bellies, you would think I was starving, but exhaustion hit hard at that moment and I wasn’t too hungry for the lovely dinner that was prepared for us – thank goodness it was self-serve (at Watakatifu Wote, they served us big portions and we had to eat what we were given). Bea and I recognized everything there - the ugali (staple food of Kenya, maze meal) especially and liver (wasn’t what we were used to, but Nora cooked it well). Mango juice was poured for us (I thought I was allergic, but after two glasses I was still alive) and we were told to eat more even though we could not due to our sleepiness.
      After dinner, we bid Evans goodbye in thankfulness once plans were made for the next day. He was someone Bea and I could easily relate to whenever we saw him during our three weeks and I knew he would become a friend for both of us. Pastor helped us hang our mosquito net over a bed us wazungu would share. The room was more of a patrician of the living room, so the wall was not connected to the ceiling. I liked it and it was nice. We were sent to bed because Nora saw our tiredness after we visited a while. Then we were warned about the bush babies (small nocturnal animals that jumped on the tin roof) so we would know what was making a rumpus on the roof. Bea and I were still on our guard and quiet, but thankful for the hospitality and love we already felt. The night was full of my thoughts and of wondering – and bush babies. :)

Sent Out

Day 9 -

“Lord, I pray that You will completely break me and bring me back to You. Create in me a clean heart, O God. Refine me and allow me to surrender to Your will. This assignment will be challenging, but I am willing, so take me as I am. Take me as I am.”

            Bea and I immediately got together, processed our assignment news and read letters from previous GPers who went on the same assignment, with the same host family, exactly a year before. Their words were encouraging and helpful enough that I recalled their words often during my time in Kwale. After waiting for a week to hear where we were to be going for ministry, it seemed a little surreal to us, but we had more knowledge about what we were going to be doing on the coast. I was able to express my desire to be in a rural area to my small group and Bea. Growing up with horses on my great grandparents’ land where wheat is still farmed, I am not so bothered by rural conditions and I wanted to live differently from what I was accustomed to in the US (a country that seems almost sterile compared to other countries). One of my mottoes in life, “God made dirt, and dirt don’t hurt!”
            Kwale, Kenya is on the southern tip of the Kenyan coast, Southwest of Mombasa (a popular tourist city).  This area of Kenya has a very high concentration of Muslims – whether devout or culturally religious.  In terms of religious groups, Kenya is 80% Christian and the rest is split between Muslims and Hindus. We would be taking a bus from Nairobi with our host pastor (who had arrived at Watakatifu Wote Senta the day before to escort us) to the coast to meet his family and help in the ministry there. Pastor is the chaplain of a Christian school called Mwangaza Visionary School and pastor of the church there, both located in Kwale district. The school has around 300 students in attendance – most are from Muslim families. The goal of this ministry is to reach the children and their families by schooling the children and immersing them in a Christian culture daily during their time at the school. The church and school was planted by Mombasa Pentecostal church a number of years ago after many attempts to reach the Muslims in the area, but they encountered opposition from the residents there. Now, the Muslim residents are peaceful as Pastor and a team of teachers are teaching and preaching the love of Christ to young and old ears.
            At the time, Bea and I didn’t know what was expected of us, but we would be coming alongside (not taking over – a point that is to be very clear to all of you and to all my friends/family in Kenya) this ministry by giving devotions to the teachers and students, preaching on Sundays, and possible house visits to the families in the area to evangelize. My partner and I were the most nervous about encountering Muslims as neither of us had much experience talking or interacting with that particular religious group. However, I was most excited to work with children, play with them, and love them to my utmost capacity. Also, I was very content to see other parts of Kenya, a country that had captured my heart within a week. My journey would start the very next day at 5 am and my emotions were quite similar to the time I planted my foot on the plane that would take me to NYC – nervous, excited, and a whole lot of the unknown. That day, I read Psalm 51 that was written by a very remorseful King David after he committed adultery with Bathsheba. God used that to calm my heart. There, David talks of his broken spirit and repentant heart where he offers them to God. The Lord only wants us to repent and give everything to Him. I prayed for God to take my whole self – all of my emotions, expectations, weaknesses, and everything else for His glory during the next three weeks in Kwale with Pastor.
            That very afternoon, all of us on the team were commissioned with oil. Each team of two knelt on the ground; a leader would trace a cross on their foreheads with the oil, and pray over them and their three week assignment. Bea and I knelt, hand in hand, as one of the wonderful leaders (Sara) anointed us and the whole team surrounded us in prayer. Sara prayed for Bea and I to bond as friends and as partners, that God would be our main focus, and that He would use us for His glory. I had a sudden feeling that I was about to embark on something I could only rely on God for and not myself. The feeling (which I have experienced here and there in life) of standing on the edge of a cliff, with invisible support or restraints, and having a choice – to jump, or not to jump. It’s that leap of faith when you know God is there but unsure of if/when He will show up. Brian and Debbie told us this is one of the difficult parts of this trip for them: letting the students go on their own to all parts of Kenya to learn and grow as they minister to people. It was this moment when all of us fully realized that the next three weeks were finally here and we would be without our “little America”. The honeymoon was over and the adventure/struggle of getting to know a different culture would be intensified. During and after this assignment of mine, however, I realized how much of a hand God had in placing me in Kwale.
            Pastor Felix was introduced to us that night and I was able to talk with him during dinner about the ministry and his family. He told me how excited his wife, Nora, was which put me more at ease. The center was full of the host families/parents of most of our teams at dinner time, and we got to hear from each one about them and their ministry. After the dinner speeches, we all gathered around to end the day with worship. I cannot express how much I loved worshiping every time we had a mixture of wazungu (white people) and Kenyan natives. Music is universal, and in the same way our God is everywhere. I said this before and I will say it again: when a group of diverse people come together and are united by one cause, one heart, one God, it is truly indescribable, beyond words, amazing.
            I said my goodbyes to my teammates, gave hugs, took photos and received instructions from Bea’s boyfriend to take care of her. My motherly instinct radar rose as I promised him I would. Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it, I am such a mother in disposition. I walked with Silvia to our room for bed. She told me stories of her encounters with people from the coast, how wonderful and generous they are, and told me about some of their subculture in her sweet voice (which I miss so very much now). She was so encouraging when I expressed some nervousness about my assignment. Silvia would be going to “the bush” and ministering to the Masai people with a Texan girl on our team and we stayed up talking about our excitements before we fell asleep.