An "Up Country" Christmas

December 25, 2011. A one-of-a-kind day. Definitely the most unique Christmas in the history of my life. In Kenya, when someone says they're going "up country" it means they are going somewhere outside the city, most likely to a rural area where their family is from. I had the great opportunity to join my friend, Judy Wanjiru up country to visit her family in Nyeri for the holiday.

With two backpacks full of gifts, we hopped on a matatu for the 2 hour ride to Karatina. There, we stopped at the supermarket to pick up food gifts for the family. Karatina is bustling town, but very underdeveloped. I hate to use labels but I was honestly surprised to see many "middle class looking" people doing business around town and in that moment, I realized that my idea of socio-economic class is skewed by my U.S. frame of reference. What may seem "poor" by American standards is actually very middle class in Africa. (More processing to be done on this concept for sure). From Karatina, we took another ride in the back of a packed matatu, our laps full of bags and luggage up to our chins. The vehicle dropped us at the start of a dirt road. The area around us was lush and beautiful, the Kenyan Highlands.

Judy and me

Lots of plantations like coffee, tea, bananas and pineapple. So much green everywhere and a river running through it. Just gorgeous. The temperature was nice in the shade but hot in the sun. Probably 80 degrees. For a LONG time we sat under a tree at that dirt road. Soon we were joined by Judy's "cu cu" (pronounced "sho sho" in Kikuyu meaning grandmother) as well as her brother, sister in law and baby niece.

Judy and her "cu cu"

Judy hustled on her cell phone to find someone with a car to carry us down the road a few miles to her home. After about an hour...success! From where we were dropped, we walked down a narrow path under macadamia nut, banana and avocado trees and past sweet potato, coffee and corn crops to her family's property. Their wood slat dwelling in "the bush" was simple: tin roof, packed dirt floor with a sitting room, two small bedrooms and a kitchen separate from the house. Outside, chickens ran around with the dogs and little kitty. Cows were nearby, mooing. We greeted Judy's family including mom, step dad, 4 brothers, 2 grandmas, cousins...a full house!

Judy's grandmothers and parents

As the meal was being prepared, we took a walk to the river. Here I was...in a skirt and ballet flats hiking through brush and trees. I almost wanted to laugh at myself. But never wished for a second that I was wearing trousers on such a special day. At the river (which Judy actually got in), we took a million photos with her brother, Simon as our photographer.

At the river with Simon

When we arrived back home, food was ready and oh so good: chapati (flat bread), meat stew with potatoes, beans and lentils, nduma (arrowroot, a tuber like sweet potato) and chicken.

After the meal, Judy and I passed out the gifts: clothes for the babies, baseball caps for the brothers, bags for the grandmas, jump ropes and stickers for the kids. Thankfully I had enough for everyone! It was a sweet time of giving. One "cu cu" of Judy gave me a kiondo, a Kikuyu woven basket she hand made. It was a beautiful gift and I know, a labor of love for someone she had never met. In addition, we were gifted a TON of perfect bananas. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming. Even though I spoke a different language and my skin was a different color, they made me feel like family. I was happy. So at peace and truly able to take in the moment. Holiday stress had no part here. Lots of giving and receiving but no commercialism, no excessiveness, no decorations. Just Christmas. This was my ideal December 25th. What I've longed for but didn't know existed. Time was slipping away and after more hustling, Judy found us a ride back to the matatu station. We waited a while for a mat back to Nairboi and as the sun was setting, I was getting nervous. I had been strongly advised not to travel after dark. This wasn't the first time we were on the move at night but this time we were far from the safe compound of the guest house. Thankfully, our matatu driver was cautious and there was no car trouble. When we arrived in downtown Nairobi - with too much heavy luggage including the big box of bananas - I was honestly scared. It was Christmas night and people were out traveling to and from but also populating the bars and just looking for trouble. I sensed the heaviness. I prayed the entire time we walked through the streets of downtown to make our bus transfer to safety. We were very vulnerable with me sticking out like a sore thumb. An easy target. Even through the fear, I felt God's protection surrounding us.

When we arrived at the guest house, we were tired, dirty and sweaty. It was warm and humid - about to rain. We ordered Kenyan tea and ate cold leftovers - tasted so good. I could eat chapati forever. Luckily, we were cleaned up and ready for bed when the power went out. Since it was our last day together, Judy suggested we pray together. I am not a big fan of saying "out-loud" prayers despite it's commonness in the Christian culture. Hearing my own voice has always seems "fake" - like this is not how I talk to God in my head. Yet for some reason as we were snuggled up in one of the beds, I didn't think about it too much and just let go. It was a beautiful moment between us special gal friends. Judy's prayers for me were so thoughtful and special, like God himself was speaking those words to me. I couldn't have imagined a better way to end my final night in Kenya. My friendship with Judy is like a sisterhood. In fact, we were somewhere in public and a man asked her in Swahili if I was her sister. Later she told me what he said and her response was "yes". That meant two things to me: one, that she was wiling to align herself with me, an outsider and acknowledge that even to strangers and two, that she values me as an important part of her life. She put herself out there for me and sacrificed her time, work, money and energy for two weeks. Gratefulness and love cannot sum up how I feel toward Judy.

A gift from Timothy

On that final morning, my friend Timothy came for a last visit to bring me a Masaai dress made by his mother. Such a sacrifice not only by his mum who has never met me, but by Timothy who cared enough to make the delivery so far from home. While we were taking breakfast together, he asked about my trip to Mombasa to see Collins, my sponsored boy. We flipped through photos on my camera and then he shared that he was a sponsored child through Compassion International too until age 21. Even though he never met his sponsor, they made a real difference in his life and he's alive and well to prove it. Wow. Timothy is Collins - all grown up. Educated, working, happy...even giving back to the community himself. He is a success story. Knowing this is a special gift to me. In Kenya, I've had a lot of "God" moments and here it was again. It's as if Timothy was sent to deliever a message to me. One that I frequently doubt about myself: You are important. You are worthy of love. You are of value. I hope we all have the opportunity to get these truths reaffirmed in our lives...whether at home in America or all the way in Africa.

Christmas Eve

Tonight I am sitting outside Grace Guest House. It's evening and I've been writing in my journal for the past hour taking Kenyan tea and way too many pastries. I am at peace here in this moment. Although this trip has brought several unexpected emotions, I have no regrets. In about 11 hours my family in California will be going out to Christmas Eve dinner - the standard Sherlock tradition. I am missing them but glad to be away this year stretching myself with adventure and new experiences

Chicken Dinner

Going into the week, discouragement got the best of me. I was questioning my purpose and feeling lonely. I was exhausted and running dry from a full weekend that required a lot of waiting and patience (including a three hour Kenyan wedding ceremony). The next two days were to be spent at First Love Children's Home. There's a special spot in my heart for this place but my energy and expectations were low.

My room with a view

When I arrived, there were only a handful of kids there. The rest had gone to visit relatives for the holiday including my sponsored girl, 15 year old Caroline. Great. No problem. It's just that I've come half way across the world to see her. And although the children were friendly, they acted less than thrilled by my presence. Quite a change from my Mombasa trip to see Collins. I quickly knew this visit would look very different and on that day, I decided to just BE. Be with the girls even if they didn't give me the warmest of welcomes. Even if they spoke mostly in Swahili. Even if they ignored me. I chose to sit with them, do nothing and hoped that it would communicate how much I cared for them. Only one girl, 16 year old Fridah, was an attentive friend.

With Fridah and little Richard

The first afternoon, she wanted me to help her study her "Business Studies" school notes even though her first year of high school was finished. Fridah is a girl who knows what she wants - to be a doctor and study law so she can help others. She talked to me about mature things like love and relationships and how her culture plays a role in all that. At night, all the kids and I sat in the girls' living room watching spanish soap operas dubbed in English. Fridah made sure to catch me up on all the details of the storyline so I wouldn't be lost. Then the power went out and we stood on the porch waiting for the generator to kick on before heading off to bed. Earlier in the day, one girl, Dama brought me a plate of bread and peanut butter for lunch, however, I politely declined and asked if I could join them instead. They were a little confused because most visitors aren't fans of Kenyan food like sukuma wiki (cooked greens) and ugali (maize flour mush). Personally, I love it and was so happy to eat every meal with them. Thankfully, the next day Caroline came to visit me for a few hours. She is staying with her siblings and grandparents for the holiday and I learned that sometimes they don't have any food to eat. I know she cares so much for her family and would think it dishonoring to not be with them for Christmas.

Caro and me

Caro is one of the lucky ones...First Love keeps her well fed and taken care. They have given her opportunity for education and a better life. I wasn't hurt about her not being overly excited about my visit. I am one of many sponsors that visit First Love regularly. We chatted some and I gave her a backpack and a photo album. We took fun pictures together and I know she was glad I was there. The fact that she even came on her own was enough. Her visit was a good reminder to take off my "me" eyes. After taking lunch of rice with tomato and onion, we saw Caro off as she walked down the dirt road to catch a matatu back home. The afternoon consisted of a lesson in Kenyan cooking and hospitality. "Auntie" and the girls prepared chapati (white flour flat bread).

Making chapati

They were a chapati making factory and it was a special time to sit among them as they talked in their language and cooked, occasionally pausing answer my questions. I tried to help but was shortly fired :) Later, I rode bikes with Juliet, the youngest of the girls there. I had spent most of my time with the older girls and I could tell she was excited to have some attention. I'm a lousy bike rider and Juliet had a few good laughs at my expense. Hours before dinner, Fridah presented me with two live chickens - roosters to be exact - and asked which one I wanted for dinner. LOL. It didn't matter that I'm not a meat eater (they had no idea). I picked the chicken that weighed the most. The white one. Poor guy gave his life for me. Although later I wished I had picked the other one because it wouldn't stop "cock-a-doodle-dooing!" Maybe it missed it's compadre? So the white bird lost it's life right then and there. I was invited to observe the slaughter but I just couldn't.

Bye bye birdie

Once it was de-feathered and resembled something in the meat department at the grocery store, then I could watch. I was truly so appreciative of their chicken sacrifice. I honored this Kenyan tradition by eating the chicken stew with chapati for dinner. The evening concluded with more soap operas and watching the girls un-braid each others' hair. When it was time for bed, Fridah insisted that she sit with me at my bedside until I fell asleep. The sweetness of the moment was more than just a teenager not wanting to say goodbye to her new friend. It was deeper. A gift from God of love and affection: Although you feel lonely, you are not alone. She tucked me in like mom would do and then sat down on the side of the bed. Our conversation was punctuated by short minutes of silence except for my breathing. Finally, I "released" her to go to sleep and she made me promise to wake her up before my departure. In the morning, I took tea and woke up Juliet and Fridah to say goodbye. The others were awake and could barely muster up a hug to send me off. It didn't matter to me though. I am so thankful for the Girl who was my loving "guide" into stillness and rest and just being present.

The Boy Who Could Dance

Yesterday I ventured to the "far side of the sea". Collins, my sponsored boy through Compassion International lives in Likoni near Mombasa on the coast of Kenya at the Indian Ocean. My early morning in Nairobi was full of self-created discouragement. My roommate and dear friend, Kate left me notes to open while in Kenya, one for each day. There was one without a date entitled "Just in case you need a reminder" and at the airport, I needed a reminder. The note encouraged me to be courageous and strong and it was just what I needed. Upon arrival in Mombasa, I was picked up by Eddah, the Mombasa Program Director. She greeted me with such enthusiasm and I felt reassured that everything was going to be okay. Our first stop was to Nakumatt (grocery store) to pick up a "food basket" for Collins' family - basically a grocery sack full of sugar, salt, cooking oil, soap, cornmeal and flour. (This whole time I thought Eddah was saying "fruit basket" and was confused at why we didn't buy any fruit...LOL). The sun was beating down and there was lots of humidity in the air. I was dripping with sweat...clothes wet, any little makeup gone, and hair...we won't even mention. Let's just say I had hoped to make a better first impression. I know, I know what you're going to say. But I'm just being honest. The short journey to Likoni was via the drive-your-car-on ferry and mostly unpaved roads barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other. Both sides of the street were lined with vendors: food shops, beauty salons, furniture makers, bars, and "top up here" cell phone credit vendors. Few cars but lots of motorbikes and bicycles with men carrying jerry cans or produce or wood.

We finally arrived at Ushindi Baptist Church where the Compassion Centre is located. Eddah and I sat down for introductions with Maggy, the program director and Mary, a parent volunteer around a large table as if this was a parent-teacher conference. They brought in two boys to "test" me to see if I knew who Collins was :) Duh. Of course I knew who he was and I immediately went over and embraced him. I couldn't believe my eyes. The boy to whom I had been writing letters and sending photos was standing next to me in the flesh. How grown up and handsome he looked at 14 years of age!

Meeting Collins

No longer the little boy of 8 that I chose out of a sea of children 6 years ago. He was so quiet and shy but I could tell he was happy. They brought out his folder - this was a serious parent-teacher conference! I went through each page chronicling his education, development and health over the years. Then we went into another building where the other children greeted me with "Silent Night" in Swahili. I introduced myself holding Collins' hand. I couldn't tell if he was embarrassed but I didn't care. I was so proud of him. To make a point, Maggy asked the kids to raise their hand if they had met their sponsor. And not one child raised their hand. I was the first sponsor EVER to visit the program at Ushindi Child Development Centre. Wow. All those year and no one.

Collins and his dad

Next we went on the home visit. Dad joined us at the church and he greeted me as if I were a long lost friend.
We all walked down the dirt road not more than a mile to their humble one-room home. I was greeted by step mom and baby brother, Gift. I presented the food basket and they presented me with a Leso, an African patterned cloth.

A gift from Collins' family

A beautiful token of our friendship. I was so honored and touched. Dad said a few words, translated by Eddah of how grateful they are for my sponsorship of Collins and the opportunity for him to be in the program. We all stood up and step mom prayed for us in English - so sweet and loving. On the way back, Collins and I walked side by side, mostly in silence except for my few questions. I wonder how he felt?
I was so proud, walking with the Leso wrapped around my waist, wiping the sweat dripping down my face.

Collins and his family

Back at the centre, we took lunch where my pseudo-vegan self actually ate chicken and probably goat. And no I didn't get sick :) Earlier, during Collins' "portfolio review", I noticed his interests included "dancing". In fact the line said "enjoys dancing to gospel music with the Blessed Boys". This is something he never mentioned to me in letters. Football, running, cars, friends, yes...but dancing? No. Apparently he has a "crew" a.k.a. the Blessed Boys that he leads in dances and they even compete with other groups! Really?! So I requested a special performance :) We went into the main church building and the kids queued up the music and started dancing.

The boy who could dance

I was blown away by how Collins moved. He was clearly the best one - they were all very good but I could tell he was dancing with passion from his heart and soul. He was completely invested. A boy after my own heart. All of us gals sat on the sidelines cheering with laughter and clapping and shouting. Maggy kept saying, "this is the sweet love of Jesus!" Then Collins grabbed my hand and pulled me up to join them. You knew this was coming, right? I followed along as best I could...the gals still watching from the bench roaring with delight that this white girl could actually dance! It was a surreal moment. Almost out of body. Who knew my boy was a dancer?! He was meant to be my "son".

With Mary, Maggy and Eddah

After the dancing, we went back to the centre and this was Collin's last chance to ask me any questions or say parting words. The ladies left the room and the poor shy kid was like a deer in headlights but he was brave in asking me about my work and my family. Then he thanked me for coming to visit and said he wished I could come back on Monday. His left temple was clenching and I could see the tears behind his eyes. I told him how proud I am that he is becoming a wonderful young man. I encouraged him to continue his studies and work hard and reaffirmed my commitment to him. Then I prayed for him. When the ladies came back in, I told them about my solo journey to Kenya. How I've had anxious moments of fear and doubt but I've continued to pray for God's protection and read aloud to them this: "If I rise on the wings of dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." (Psalm 139:9-10). I started tearing up. Then Eddah, who has led many sponsor visits throughout Mombasa said this one was unlike any she's been on before. It was the most special she's experienced. My heart was touched. I felt like God was there with us. And I don't throw around that phrase lightly. There are no words to truly describe my feelings.

As we drove away and waved goodbye, Collins was wearing the gifts I brought to him, a backpack, sunglasses and a baseball cap...he looked so precious. Then I was reminded that I get to sponsor him for 8 more years and I know we will meet again.

The "far side of the sea," Mombasa, Kenya

Shillings and Water

I am here! Although, I don't feel "here". The feeling is closer to a dream than reality. It's probably the jetlag and my internal clock being so off. Yesterday was a whirlwind. After getting picked up at the airport by my dear friend, Judy Wanjiru and her colleague Jack, I checked into the guest house. A warm shower after almost 3 days of wearing the same clothes and breathing recycled air was a gift...hot water is not always a guarantee.

Judy and me

Lunch and then Judy and I were off on a bus to downtown, dodging matatus and cars to run errands. Picture Downtown Nairobi: New York City on steroids. Double the vehicles, no street lights and minimal stop signs. A million people walking up and down the sidewalks and crossing the streets with no crosswalks. Horns honking and diesel fumes flying. A driver's free-for-all and every pedestrian for himself. Judy and I flew down the sidewalk - really, I was walking too fast for her out of urgency to "get rid" of the *cough, cough* money on my person. Our first attempt at exchanging money was a bust. The bank didn't like my small bills and offered a horrible exchange rate. So we left empty handed and decided to try our chance with my friend Jane's dad at a Forex Bureau...even without a prior phone call. The first Forex Bureau was the wrong one and we were sent down the street to another. Success! He was there and immediately saw me and help me with the exchange. So generous of him to do his daughter's friend a favor at the drop of a hat. With a fat wad of shillings and the bank closing in 10 minutes we rushed back over to the bank to make my deposit. Back down the populated sidewalks and across the busy streets, Judy held my hand and informed us when to stop and when to go. At the bank, we stood in a long queue and I finally breathed a sigh of relief as I made the deposit to the secondary school for our sponsored orphan, John's year of education. Minus the small bumps in the road and my nervousness about the cash burning a hole in my pocket, everything went smoothly. At one point when Judy was holding my hand, I sensed that God was saying "This is Me. I got this." After dealing with the money, we set off to Safaricom to buy me a phone. Then to the grocery store to get a jug of water. Why we thought to get water in town and carry it home...I'm not quite sure. The bus route was slow and long and I fell asleep on Judy's shoulder...still fighting my old time zone. The driver took a different route to avoid traffic and dropped us off far from our stop. We had to walk with that heavy water jug almost a mile down an unpaved road with a lot foot traffic. Judy and I each grabbed a handle and carried it together, careful not to step in potholes. We seemed vulnerable and I prayed as we walked passed all those people for God' protection. We made it back safely, exhausted and dusty. I couldn't even bring myself to take dinner - and for those of you who know how much I eat...that's saying a lot! I wanted an adventure and I sure got one, right? This is only Day One...

Am I speaking English?

What's there not to love about London: beautiful castles, stylish accents, and men in suits and peacoats. Right? :)

On my way to Kenya, I stopped over at Heathrow and planned ahead to make the most of a few hours in the UK. From the airport, I boarded the Local 77 bus to Windsor with my M&S "super whole foods salad with quinoa, lentils and butternut squash"...savoring my last chance at raw veggies for two weeks (sigh).

Windsor Castle

I think I asked for directions a ba-jillion times (what's a girl to do when she can't use her iphone?) Every time I opened my mouth, I got a, "Sorry?" Seriously. Don't we speak the same language? Am I mumbling? Foreign currency always throws me for a loop. I'm actually good at math but you can guarantee plenty of idiot money moments like me standing and waiting for change when they already gave it to me. The weather was very cold and thanks to my friend Shelly's down jacket (which fit nicely in a ziploc bag in my carry-on) I was temperature-content. I almost didn't get off at the right stop. Yikes. "Lost in London"...not a good headline. When I arrived in Windsor, it was dark and the castle was already closed but I wanted to experience something uniquely British: the Evening Service at St. George's Chapel. As you can imagine the church architecture was beautiful. Think: the Royal Wedding at Westminster Abbey (but not that big). The other attendees and I were led into the castle grounds by security and greeted by the clergy at the chapel door. Walking through the halls was a spiritual moment in and of itself. Soft lighting, cavernous ceilings and a sense that many had experienced God in this place. I had done my "Anglican Church research" so I knew what to except from Evening Prayer, a pretty dry service with no music. Monotone reading in proper British accents. Lots of kneeling, standing, sitting, kneeling...stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight! And despite this unfamiliar style of communicating with God, I still asked him to show up. The reading was from Psalm 69 written by a man who was crying out for God to save him from sinking into the deep waters - fully aware of how his actions had created great damage. Recently in my own life, I had been thinking a lot about how we are all capable of falling like this. We all have the capacity to choose dark over light. But this reading gave me hope: despite ourselves, no matter what we've done, God is there with his love and mercy. For that, I am grateful.

You who seek God, may your hearts live! I so want my heart to live.

After the service, I walked around the quaint shop-lined streets still open for Christmas shopping. I sat down with a coffee and felt proud of myself for even making it there after the previous day's disastorous luggage situation and not knowing my way around the monsterous airport and roads of London.

Next stop: Nairobi, Kenya.

Living on an Airplane

Over the Pacific

Traveling by plane. Not my favorite. The trip started off rocky. Multiple luggage fiascoes resulting in the removal of over 20 lbs. worth of items from my suitcases. Not at home but oh yes, on the scale at the airport before the first leg. Yep, I was THAT annoying person. All the airline personnel were pleasant and even sighed as Julie (my "packing director") and I yanked clothes and books and blankets for orphans - yes, I made sure they knew what was at stake but they didn't budge...not even for 1 lb. Upon arrival at LAX, they said "no way" to my massive carry-on. I had a feeling that would happen. They wanted to check it - which was not an option for me so then came the purchase of a 3rd piece of luggage: a cardboard box with duct tape. The most expensive box I've ever owned. It was possible that they still wouldn't take the backpack because it was honestly over the size limit. Additionally, I asked Virgin Atlantic to confirm the transfer of my other 2 suitcases from United and the answer: not yet. Great. Then I remember that one of them was left unlocked. Super great. I almost panicked - I could feel the heavy breaths building in my chest as I moved stuff out of the big rolling backpack to the brown box. But there was a moment as I was re-measuring the carry-on beast where I got out of my own head. A surprise for me in such a stressful situation. I sensed God saying, "I got this." And I thought, he is like my traveling companion, by my side, giving advice in sticky situations such as this. Kinda like if my Dad was with me, always knowing what to do. And then, I lost my box and found it. And then, I lost my boarding pass and found it. My brain was about to explode and i started doubting myself. Can I really do this? Maybe I'm not cut out for this? If I can't handle luggage, how can I handle transportation in a foreign city? The insecurities poured in. Breathe, Mandy, breathe. I've got this. I almost missed my flight but they checked the box and let me take the carry-on. Phew.