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.
