Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 164

Agape means Love

When my daughter Val was in Kenya in 2010, she stayed with Maggie and Oliver for several weeks. Earlier in her six month stay, Maggie had delivered her third child, a beautiful baby girl who they named Beautiful Anna.
Val hadn’t told Maggie and Oliver that she was returning to Kenya, so she called them out of the blue, said she was in Nairobi and asked if we could come for a visit.
Though Beautiful Anna had just been a baby when Val was there three years ago, the precious child bestowed upon Val the warmest greetings. Her name is certainly fitting.
 2013 2010













After we visited with Oliver in their home for a while, he took us down to the orphanage which he and his wife run, Agape Hope Center. Attached to the orphanage is a school, which caters to about half orphans and half kids from homes throughout the community.
The school currently runs through grade 8. This year four boys will graduate from 8th grade. For them to go to high school next year, it will cost 28,000 shillings a piece, which is the average yearly income of many Kenyans. Oliver is hoping to open a high school at the orphanage to serve these kids. It would be cheaper to hire four teachers, and then they could offer high school to other kids and get an income from that. But that all takes money up front.
Looking around the grounds of the orphanage and school, it was obvious that the money would be hard to come back. My heart goes out to those graduating eighth graders and their prospects for next year. 

Nakumatt Junction, What's your function?

Yes, I know. I am still writing about my first day in Africa. I need to get on with this, don’t I? As promised, I will start by telling you where the nasty little matatu took us.The Nakumatt is the Kenyan equivalent of Walmart. They sell everything from food to toiletries to dishes to clothes. Wandering the aisles, it was easy to forget where I was, until I looked more closely at the labels. Yes, everything was equivalent to what we have here in the States, but some things still caught me off guard.  

Especially the prices. 365 shillings for a bottle of shampoo. Oh, hold it, I guess that is just under four US dollars, so I guess that isn’t quite so outrageous.  After we bought a few supplies, Val went to the phone store to activate her Kenyan phone, while I wandered around Nakumatt Junction, a mall just like we have back home. Again, here I could buy anything I needed. A bookstore, a jewelry store, lots of clothing stores – some familiar, most not. A couple banks, a few ATMs. Since Val was there in 2010, they even added a Kentucky Fried Chicken. Every time our matatu was bringing us here, I would watch for the colonel’s bucket, notifying me that it was time to get off the bus. That first day, and a few times after that, we wound up at the Java House. We ordered chai tea and Val brought her laptop out of her backpack. They have free WiFi at the Java House. And after the waitress brought us our tea, she never came back to bug us, guilt us into hurrying along. That first day we weren’t there long, but on a different day, we sat there for two hours, posting pictures on Facebook.
The longer I was in Kenya, the more comfortable I felt in my own skin. I accepted all of the Africans surrounding me, with their skin color varying from deep tan to chocolate to near black. When I was at the Java House, where a vast array of nationalities, languages and colors ate and drank, I felt more out of place with my pale skin than I did among the Kenyans. I was in Africa and should be surrounded by dark skinned people; I felt like I was in the wrong place when the skin of most people gave away their origin of birth as European, Asian or North American. 

I'm not in America anymore

Tuesday morning! My first full day in Kenya! What are we going to accomplish today, I woke up wondering, as I wandered into the main room to see what was for breakfast. I wish I could tell you what was for breakfast, but I don’t remember. Every morning around eight, our house mom, Momma Bishop, also called Momma Sally, brought in a thermos of hot milk. I know - ick. Most of the other volunteers dumped instant coffee or tea into their cup-full, and once in a while there was some powdered chocolate in the house. I just drank my hot milk straight each morning. This was something new to me, the girl from the dairy state who only drinks her milk ice-cold and preferably skim. But I can adapt. And that’s what a trip to a third world country is most about. Adapting. Along with the thermos of milk, Momma Bishop usually brought a couple loaves of store-bought bread. Some days she also brought French toast, scrambled eggs, or mandazi. Mandazi is considered an East African donut. Fried and sweet – I need to make me some of these sometime soon. After breakfast (I think that first day I made toast and burned it), Val and I walked down to the corner to catch a matatu to Nakumatt Junction. The road at the end of our driveway
I suppose you want that explained.A matatu is a nasty form of public transportation, but they are cheap and they go all over. They are a twelve-passenger van. I’m at a loss as to how to describe it beyond that!Ok, so you stand along the road, and this van whizzes up next to you. A guy jumps out, they call him the conductor. He’s not the driver. I only once really even saw the driver of one of these. He pretty much stays put behind the wheel and doesn’t get involved. Anyway, so the conductor jumps out and asks where you are going. No matter what you say, he says he can take you there. And this is where you have to know what you are doing, because he will try to overcharge you, especially if you are white.Val always told him 30 shillings, and sometimes he accepted that and sometimes he didn’t. I was always like, just pay him and don’t argue. It is not worth it. By the way, 30 Kenyan shillings is about 35 cents. So, you jump in this smelly little bus and music is usually blaring, it seemed like either offensive rap with lots of swearing or Christian music. It was weird. But no matter what was playing, it was too loud.So off we go, down the road and the road is bumpy and the bus is crowded and it keeps stopping to pick up more people. Once in a while, when it was already full, the conductor seemed to ask some people to get off so someone else could get on. They spoke in Swahili, so I never was sure if this was really happening, but it sure looked that way. When you get close to your stop, you beat on the side of the bus, and then the conductor beats on the roof too, and somehow with all the noise from the music, the driver actually hears this and usually stops. Not always. But usually. The conductor and the driver must have this all orchestrated somehow. It all seems so chaotic, but somehow they know what they are doing. And no matter how crowded it was, and how many other people got on or off, the conductor knew where us white chicks were getting off. Or at least he did 80% of the time.
Oh, dear, that took up a lot of words. I think I will tell you about the Nakumatt next time. It is much easier to comprehend. 

Arrival

My daughter Val and I arrived in Kenya May 6, Monday night, got our Visas, got our luggage and cleared customs without a hitch. Our ride was even there to meet us. I had been so worried that one of those steps would fall through and we wouldn’t be able to leave the airport. I pictured myself being Tom Hanks in the movie “Terminal”. I don't know why I worry about everything so much.Kenya is just so different from the US; it is impossible to explain it to someone who has never been here. Pictures can't explain it, and surely my words can't either. The first thing we noticed as soon as we walked out of the airport was the smell. Driving to our volunteer house, so many odors bombarded us through the open van windows. Diesel exhaust, decaying something or other, smoked meat, and body odor, but not “normal” body odor, more the smell of someone sweating who has been eating something strange.  And the traffic. I don't know if there is any place in the world with traffic like Nairobi's. Everyplace is a passing lane and there are no speed limits. The roads have improved a lot since I was here last, the potholes are greatly diminished. But in their place are massive speed bumps. I mean, massive. A small car would barely clear them, and our rear fender hit bottom quite often going over them. I should have gotten a picture of the passing truck we met right on a curve. It was centimeters from us. By the time we drove through Nairobi after nine Monday night, most of the shops lining the streets were closed. Still there were people everywhere, walking home most likely, if they had homes. The driveway up to our compound was typical for East Africa. One deep rut after another, boulders in the middle of the road and only a foot to maneuver on each side. Yes, this really is our driveway.The guest house where we stayed was quite nice. Val and I had a room to ourselves. It was small, with a bunk bed and nothing else. A small bathroom was attached, but the plumbing hadn’t been hooked up. It did at least give us extra space. Can you guess which bed is mine?After a quick tour of our home away from home, I pretty much crawled right into bed. I fell asleep with my head whirling with thoughts of what the next day would bring. 

Convoluted Plans

After much procrastination, ta-da, here I am blogging again. Ready to tell you every last detail of my recent trip to Kenya. Ok, maybe you don’t want to hear about everything (i.e. diarrhea, lack of toilet paper, etc.), but you know how I am. I just can’t spare you the gruesome adventures of my life. I was going to jump right in and take you straight to Africa. But since I didn’t go straight to Africa, you don’t get to either. When my daughter and I started planning this trip to Kenya, we threw around several different dates. Somehow we came up with the first part of May as the time to depart, which would give Val until the end of July if she was really going to stay for three months. The problem with leaving the first part of May was that I had promised my Kinship kid that I would take her to a Colton Dixon concert in Milwaukee the first Friday in May. Hmm? I thought. How could I best make this work out? My son lives near Milwaukee, which is near Chicago. If we flew out of Chicago we could get the cheapest flights. I came up with the craziest trip itinerary. I mean, when you leave for a two-week trip to a third-world country, don’t you want to leave the comfort of your home and get to your destination by the shortest means? Oh, heavens, no, not me. So, I left home around noon on Friday, May3, picked up my Kinship kid and drove to a suburb of Milwaukee. Checked into our hotel and went to the concert. The next morning, I drove my kid part-way home, where my husband met me for the exchange. He had brought down Val and her suitcase. He picked up the Kid and took her home, while Val and I drove back to Milwaukee. I spent Saturday night at the apartment of one of my son’s friends. I know. Is this complicated? Typical weekend in my life. My son took us to the airport in Chicago the next morning. And our plane left at 4:10 pm. Next stop – Amsterdam.  Since this wasn't a one-trip trip, you'll notice the green overnight bag. Also, the white paper bag and the red and white rope which were going to my son's house. The dog thinks he is going with. Last thing to note - the piece of paper taped on the door right behind me says, "PASSPORT". The one thing I absolutely positively must not forget.   Colton Dixon. Was I ever 14-years-old and in love with a pop star? No, I was not.   Just one more picture of Colton to appease the Kid. Ok, so now it's finally time to go to the airport. 

Where's Christine????

Where’s Christine? And why hasn’t she posted to her blog in over a week?
I know that you know that I have been in Kenya. And you probably thought that I would be home by now and writing like crazy. Perhaps you are waiting with baited breath to read all of my fascinating stories and see all of my beautiful pictures. Sorry to keep you waiting.
I don’t know what to tell you, except that I got home late Sunday night, didn’t start unpacking until Tuesday morning, didn’t finish unpacking until Tuesday night, and first went on my laptop on Wednesday night. My head is positively swimming and I am still processing a lot of things. The stories will come; the pictures will be posted. I am shooting for actually getting something done this weekend.
So, don’t give up on me. Check back often. Trust me that the wait will be worth it.  My bags are packed, I'm ready to go. I should have gotten a picture when I got back home, I didn't look nearly this put together. 

Greetings from Kenya

I didn't know if I would be able to post a blog at all while we were in Kenya. I have internet for just a few minutes, so my thoughts are not together. I would also like to post lots of pictures, but you will have to patiently wait until we get home.
\
This picture is of my daughter and I, showing off our sunburns. We were staying with a friend who lives in Saikeri, which is in the middle of nowhere and when I post the story of the trip there and back again, you will not believe it!

We are having a great time. Monday and Tuesday this week I worked at the medical clinic in Saikeri. No water or electricity. Can you imagine that in your doctor's office?

Gosh, what else, today we made up backpacks for 76 kids at an orphanage. Last week we visited the IDP camp, our friends from America who are fulltime missionaries here and I can't remember what else we did.

I don't want to leave, but can't wait to share all of my stories and pictures with you when I get home.

And the blogging starts to suffer. . .

I feel bad that I didn’t write an inspirational blog last night. It was a busy day – ran/walked one and a quarter miles, breakfast with a friend, laundry, housework, two parties for my daughter, shopping for last minute stuff for the trip, and a stop at the funeral home for the wake of a dear family friend.  Oh, and made bars for the funeral luncheon today. I thought that Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest!
We all need more time to rest.  God knew what He was doing when He designated one day to rest, He knew that we needed that. Of course, He also wanted us to spend that day getting to know Him better. Yet in our hectic lives we just don’t take the time to rest for ourselves, much less to spend any time in prayer, praise and reflection. That hour in church once a week should take care of that, right?
Wrong. But I’m not going to give a sermon or do any lecturing. I think I’m going to get a bowl of ice cream, put some ice on my knee (don’t ask), and at least rest now, while I can.
Tomorrow is another day and I have precious few of them before I leave for Kenya. My blog posts will be very spotty the next three weeks. I hope to come home energized to write all about it, to share the adventure, to inspire you to make your own adventure. In the meantime, I’ll try to keep you all posted as best as I can. 
And I still have to make time for a picture. This is the first one I grabbed from my daughter's pictures from Kenya in 2010. I love those lone trees. 

Ready for Adventure?

"Let's go on an adventure."
“But we might get into trouble.”
"That's how we know it's an adventure."
I average two hours of TV per week. Yes, per week. Maybe, three. A while back there was a commercial on TV for a cartoon coming out soon. And the above quote was in the ad. I don’t remember what movie it was for, and I wasn’t able to track it down on-line. Please, whoever’s movie this was from, I am sorry that I borrowed it and didn’t give you credit.
But aren’t these great lines. Doesn’t everybody like an adventure every so often?  And sometimes you just have to get in a little bit of trouble, for the fun of it or the thrill of it.
 It’s hard to believe that I will be leaving for my big adventure in just over a week. I don’t plan on getting in trouble while I am in Kenya, I really don't want to get in trouble. I don't even need any excitement. But I think we will just have to see what happens. 

I don't miss mosquitoes

Hey, all you warm-blooded humans living in northern Wisconsin, you aren't the only ones sick and tired of winter. I know, we have been hearing it for months now - snow in the forecast. Again! And it's April! But like I said, you are not the only ones who are complaining. How do you think we mosquitoes feel? We just want to get out there and start stealing your blood. The great thing about that is not only do we steal, we share too. I know, I know, you people in middle America don't have much to worry about. Maybe a West Nile infection once in a while. My relatives living in third world countries are the ones you need to really watch out for. They get to spread lots of diseases, the most notorious being malaria. That's the big claim to fame us mosquitos have. Nothing like spreading that disease amongst children and the elderly in those countries that don't have any way to treat this disease. Yep, those mosquitoes in places like Kenya have got it made. They are famous!
Hold it, hold it, you nasty little mosquito! I am going to Kenya in just over a week and I don’t need you threatening all of those innocent people I am going there to help. So just give it a rest.
Don’t we wish that mosquitoes would give it a rest, and stop spreading diseases like malaria. But they won’t. The best thing we can do is support an organization like Compassion International in their efforts to prevent the spread of this disease which claims the lives of thousands of children each year. To learn more about what you can do, click here. 
And as I head off to Kenya the fifth of May, I will be loaded up with my anti-malaria pills. I just wish I had enough pills to share with the whole country.