Someone cross stitched a piece of cloth that now hangs above my bed with "Karibu Mayfield." In Kiswahili, one of the national languages of Kenya, "Karibu" means an enthusiastic "Welcome!" (and Mayfield is the name of the missionary hotel I'm staying in for the next week). My taxi driver says it like this: "Kaarrriibbuuu Keeennnyyaaa" and one of my fellow AIM missionaries throws his hands out when he says it. Since arriving at late-thirty last night I've definitely been "karibu-ed" to Kenya. All of my fellow AIM missionaries are so friendly and willing to share their stories as well as ask mine. I've already been invited to drink chai (black tea, milk, and sugar... and more sugar), been shown around the local flea markets by Kennedy, a local University student, been introduced to riding "matatus" (overly crammed 14-seater vans), and played cars in my hall with some precious MKs. The Kenyan Nationals and other residents are a people to whom hospitality and friendship come easily. And I, a jet-lagged white girl, am thanking God for that blessing.