Retreat

It's long past "Missionary Midnight" (9 pm) and I'm sitting in the bed of a lorry, the African equivalent of one of those cattle cars that you always see on I-5. Ann and Lucy are asleep on top of me which is making my knees sweat, Ismail has fallen asleep with his head squished between my back and the side-railings of the truck, Job is still chatting up a storm to my right, and there's a lone goat staring at me from the corner.

Despite all this, my only thought is, "Wow. I really love this. It's as if I've been waiting for this experience my whole life." I'm not being facetious. Although I'm half blind with sleep and achy all over, I realize what a massive blessing it is to be with my students, whom I adore, in a place I'm fascinated by, and doing something I wouldn't otherwise get the chance to do. At this moment, "It is well with my soul."

The adventure began at 3:30 in the morning, when Jamie, Alicia, Ruth, and I all dragged ourselves out of bed to make some quick scrambled eggs and coffee before the lorry came to pick us up to leave for the T.S.S. Midterm Retreat to South Horr. 3:30 isn't so bad when your usual alarm is 5 am, but still... When the lorry honked (OK, is that really necessary? You're a massive truck parked in our driveway, and probably one of 5 vehicles in town. We notice that you're here.) we threw on backpacks, got a scolding from Abaya for not telling him that we were leaving for the day, and climbed on up! It was so dark I couldn't tell who I was sitting by, but I did realize that half my bum was resting on a 4 in. thick pole and I was about 9 ft. above the bed of the truck which was another 4 ft. off the ground. So, I had a pretty good view of the stars and hut roofs as we drove out of town into the bush.

Africans sing up a storm all the time, and even more so when they're excited. Therefore, even at 4 in the morning, our students were chanting one of their warrior songs which is a call and response tune, and as I understand it, there are no words, 'Just sounds that make us happy.' Gabe, one of my top 64 favorite students, was the chant leader and my 'seat mate,' so I got a pretty good seat for the show.

It wasn't only the singing that was exciting, but also having to dodge the branches of the acacia trees as soon as we left civilization. Being about 15 feet off the ground, we were right in line with the low hanging branches of these pokey trees with thorns 2 in. long and poisoned tips that will leave their wounds stinging for about 2 days. (My toe is still suffering from one I stepped on at school on Thursday.) Every few minutes the lorry driver would honk his horn to warn us of impending branches and immediately there would be 20 hands covering my head and pushing me parallel to the polls of the roof. 'Madame! Watch out! These will cut you very badly!' In fact, Mr. John got his shirt ripped in half and Principal Kakume can't move his right arm right now because the nurse is still trying to get a thorn out of his tendon. They're nasty little suckers. But thanks to the kids, the worst that happend was my pants got dirty when I was shoved into the hole of the spare tire tied to the roof.
And so we continued, singing and ducking thorns until the sun rose and we could smell the rain and feel the cool breezes coming off the mountains. South Horr is a 6 hour drive away by lorry, which is supremely uncomfortable, but most of the trip takes you past some really beautiful mountains which I can't remember the name for right now. They look a lot like Southern California hills with quite a few rocks and scrappy low-lying bushes. But the wildlife is entirely foreign. There's these crazy little animals called 'dikdiks' which look like a cross between a deer and a jackrabitt; the legs and head of a deer, but the size of a jackrabbit. I'd like to have one for a pet someday. We also saw a huge ostrich running around at one point, as well as baboons sitting on the side of the road. You couldn't have paid for a better safari.

After an unnnerving trip up a mountain pass, complete with cliffs, which I was not expecting, we arrived in South Horr. It was positively tropical compared to what I'm used to. Bouganvilla, lush aloe vera bushes, papaya and banana trees... And cool, moist air! What a novelty. The town is actually quite large, with charming slate and stone buildings all over and school children whose uniforms are a stunning salmon color shirt with blue trousers. We stopped briefly for a bathroom break and to get some candies from a shop, before continuing on to the settlement just outside of town called Kurungu.

In Kurungu we attended a very lively Africa Inland Church; the Mamas all danced in their seats while they sang hymns and the elders of the church jumped around in the back doing the warrior's dance to the tune. When our students' choir performed, which is expected of visitors, they too danced and clapped which got the whole congregation going. The best part, though, was that the people who live in Kurungu are Arial Rendille (Rendille by blood, but Samburu by culture) and so they speak Samburu, the mother tongue of many of our students. Finally the kids got a sermon they could understand!

After church, we all headed back the the private home compound we were staying at, got changed, found firewood, took some more tea and biscuits, and then began some of those old camp games we all remember, or maybe not... Like this game called 'Mangoes' where someone says 'My mother went to the market and bought 6 mangoes' and person #6 in line has to reply '6 mangoes?!' and the game leader then says, 'Well how many mangoes then?' and then person #6 says, '13 mangoes' or whatever number they want. The point of the game is to only call out a number of mangoes/of a person who has not been eliminated by the same mistake. If it sounds confusing, it is. We also played a massive round of 'Down by the Banks,' that old hand-clapping game about a frog, and a completely unsanitary game where two people eat a piece of string, or rather, put it in their mouth, and the first person to the middle of the string gets to keep the lollipop. I made sure I was in the first group to go. We swung on the tree swing, I found plumerias to put in all the girls' hair (or on top of their shaved heads, in Ann's case) and we just generally relaxed in a sort of tired stupor as it was so humid, we'd been up since 3:30, and hadn't had lunch yet.

Finally!!! The stew was ready! I was really excited about this stuff as that 15 kgs. of camel meat had been sitting in my freezer for a week and I was ready for it to be eaten. The girls, of course, were the ones to serve (because of course, the 'warriors' don't do that kind of work) so we desperately tried to ration out equal portions of stew, rice, and chapatis. In the end I got just stew and chapatis, but didn't mind in the slightest. It was delicious and I regret now not taking a picture to share this culinary delight with you...

We packed up after lunch, loading our backpacks on the lorry, and literally fighting for the best seats, and about 4:30 we got on the road. (This picture is of Mr. Abednago with is "intimidation" stick) However, someone talked the lorry driver into letting us stop in South Horr town for a bit, and I sent Mark off to buy some fresh produce. 8 bananas, several impatient lorry honks, and one crazy drunk man who kept asking Alicia to take him back to Australia with her later, and we were on the road back to Korr. The boys began one of their warrior dances, locking shoulders, jumping up and down, and getting slammed into the walls whenever the truck swayed. I quickly dropped from the roof to the bed as my bum couldn't take it any longer. 'Madame! Be careful!' 'What the fat?!' (their version of 'What the heck?!') 'Madame, sit here.''Madame, hold my hand!' I finally made it to my comfy seat in the back of the bus, where I am now.


And so where does all this contentment come from? Perhaps the joy of spending time with my kids outside the classroom? Getting to see some of their hometowns along the road, listening to their stories, telling secrets with the girls, and talking about what they want to do in the future. Or maybe it's the sense of adventure about the trip? Sitting crammed like sardines (without seat belts), driving through African dust and night. It's probably both reasons that contribute, as these are both things which make up a 'retreat'; going to a place you've never seen, with people who you usually only spend time with in one context... To get away like this is essential, I think, to help you build onto what you already know of the value of where you are and those you are with.

Sleepover in Rongumo

Last weekend I had my first African sleepover party, and it was probably the best one of my life.

Alicia calls Ingo Khaso the "Kissing Lady" because she'll always come up to you and give you kisses on your neck; she's too short to reach anywhere else. She's absolutely precious, so what could be better than going out to the goob (village) where she lives, Rongumo, and spending the night in her min!?

We drove about 30 minutes out of Korr into the bush, stuffed into the back of Nick's truck with mattresses piled up, water canisters, and our toothbrushes. It was already twilight by the time we reached Rongumo, but any thoughts of settling down for a quiet night quickly dissipated. Children came running from all directions yelling "Wazungu!!!" ("White people!") and the women gladly left their cooking fires. We stood around for at least an hour and a half talking with the kids and women with our limited language skills, each of us repeating our Rendille names over and over again with the inevitable result of squeals of delight. We took hundreds of pictures, especially family portraits for all the mammas who wanted a picture of themselves and their wailing babies, were entertained by an impromptu children's choir performance, and taught the kids the Hokey-Pokey.

When it was too dark to see anything anymore, and left feet were being kicked right hands in the middle of a massively disorganized Hokey-Pokey circle, Khaso called us into her "min" for chai and supper. A min is essentially a hut made out of bamboo-like sticks that are bent into a dome shape and then covered with bits of cloth, cardboard, and old milk cartons sewn together. They stay very cozy inside, which is perhaps not what one would ideally have in the middle of the desert, but the smokey interior assures that you wont get any mosquito bites! So the 5 of us sat our bums down on Khaso's animal skins and tried to get down our fresh camel milk. It's not an unpleasant taste, as we've all gotten used to it being in our chai, but camel milk straight up is... strong. Thank goodness they expected us not to like it, and just laughed when we took a sip and said we were done. (Fun Fact: Camel's milk is one of the world's most nutritious foods. It has tons of vitamins and we've heard it said that it will satisfy both thirst and hunger. Therefore, the Rendille will literally drink it for 3 meals a day, especially when there's not enough money or meat to eat otherwise.)

We had some stew we'd brought from home, and sat around finally getting some real food while we listened to Nick translate Khaso telling us how she became a Christian.

After dinner we went back outside to sit in the cool breeze, enjoy the stars, and listen to a Rendille Bible reading by Nick. I had 4 or 5 kids threading their arms through mine, and one girl not much younger than I stick her "rinrimo" (traditional beaded headdress of women)on my head. Everyone had quite exhausted themselves with the evening activities, and as a result were slowly getting sleepy. Khaso eventually kicked the kids off our mattresses and told us to go to get ready for bed. Jamie and I positioned ourselves head to foot on our mattress, Khaso propped a stick up against the flap-door to "lock up" for the night, said her prayers goodnight over us, and we promptly fell asleep.

At 5:30 am Khaso started brewing our morning chai, so that meant it was time for us to wake up! We sat for a while trying to brush off grogginess, took our tea, and started another round of photo taking! We watched some mammas and kids milk the goats, took a peak at the baby camel who had been penned up for the night, and continued our jokes and incessant chit-chat with the ladies. Nick literally had to tell us four times it was time to go before we finally gave Khaso kisses and jumped back in the truck.

There is something so very comforting about sleeping around a tiny fire in a tiny min which you cannot see nor stand up in. It's a safe feeling, and I almost felt as if I could live in such place quite satisfactorily for a long time. I would miss showers, and I would miss real food, but I totally appreciated the simplicity of such a life; including, but not limited to, going out into the pitch black night-time desert to pee behind a bush. It's liberating to leave the complications of modern life behind. I'm not saying it's a glamorous life the traditional Rendille live; there are terrible hardships they face. You must fear disease, hyena attacks, drought, losing goats or camels. You have to work to bring water from the wells, watch your dozens of children (if you're a woman), and pick up and move the village 3 times a year (the Rendille are still semi-nomadic, although at this point it's more of tradition that compels the move rather than necessity.) Their poverty presents itself in the forms of hunger and dirtiness, however when you compare these to the prostitution, alcoholism, drug addictions, and human trafficking of urban poverty, it may in fact become the lesser of the evils. However, in the brief moment I experienced it, the hospitality and easy love of Goob Rongumo credits it significantly in my eyes.I've never more enjoyed spending the night away from my own bed.

Haiti: Tirrim Sends Its Prayers

Korr is a poor place: there's hardly resources for these people to provide for themselves let alone help others. But Tirrim Secondary School is doing all it can to support victims of the Haiti earthquake. Alicia presented her Christian Religious Education with a proposal to come up with ways these kids could personally help Haiti.

And this is what they decided on. Brightly colored papers with bold letters that spell "Tirrim Secondary School Is Praying For Haiti!"

The widow ultimately gave more because she gave all she had. T.S.S. is giving all they can too.