The setting sun had just fallen behind mount Elgon as I took the call from Samuel in west Pokot informing me the cargo had just arrived. I was relieved. He was referring to the 2 plus tons of corrugated steel and the 50 gallon drum of diesel which had been dispatched from Kitale town early that morning, aboard an old farm tractor and trailer, both of which had surely seen better days. I had personally cinched the straps to secure the load making them as taught as guitar strings, fully aware that the bumpy road, corrugated with potholes was capable of loosening the tightest knot. I had then followed the rig, belching smoke into the air, as it dragged the trailer up over the 8000' elevation level of Kapenguria, the buckled wheel rims wobbled so much that they appeared to be skipping rather than rolling along the road.

Two elders

We descended in the lowest gear, literally at walking pace, down the steep escarpment to the floor of the great Rift Valley below, the unmistakable odor of overheating brakes becoming stronger as we progressed. Only then did I feel satisfied that I had done what was reasonable to ensure the safe arrival of the goods. We stopped at the base of the mountain and checked the load, the old tractor, radiating heat, seemed to pant like an old dog exhausted by a game of fetch but unwilling to quit and ready to run some more. I high fived the driver and gave him the 200 shillings and a phone card in case of emergency he had requested. Mobile phone reception is sporadic and there are no shops within the next 60 kilometers but he was delighted with the gesture. A loose load and a flat tire, ingeniously repaired along the roadside were the only interruptions during the 10 hour journey he and a companion worker made to Runo. Meantime, I turned around and headed back to Kitale.

I fumbled with the mosquito net in the darkness to reach the alarm clock at 5:15 the next morning and by 6 o'clock I was on the road to Runo just as the suns rays brought streaks of color to the dark gray eastern sky. Except for the unmarked speed bumps there were none of the usual obstacles such as lose animals, wobbly bicycles laden with heavy loads or crazy matatu drivers to negotiate at that time of morning so the drive and the sunrise was actually enjoyable. The well paved road for the first 30 miles soon deteriorates however until it reaches a point were the road has been pulverized by overloaded trucks to the point where there is just enough pavement remaining to become a hindrance and would be better if it were all turned into gravel.

By 8:30 a.m. I had met the team of five guys in Runo with whom I was to work installing the roof materials which had arrived the previous day. The roof is for a children's home meant to house the orphans of Runo school. When work began on the building a year ago it was established there were 108 orphans attending the school. As enrollment has increased, by Samuel's latest account, there are now 132. The building gives the illusion that it has grown proportionately to these numbers but of course it hasn't. It's just the impression it gives now that it is rising from it's foundation, the columns and beams forming a skeleton of steel, awaiting it's skin of sheet metal roof and brick walls, making it seem much larger now.

It's amazing what six guys can accomplish when they are synchronized in their work. I spent almost the whole day aloft on a 14 foot ladder simply aligning the sheets of colored corrugated steel while others carried, clamped, drilled and bolted it into place. It was all I could do to concentrate on the task at hand since from my vantage point I could admire the seemingly endless expanse of canopy formed by acacia trees stretching across the open plains to the horizon. No indication of any other man made structure or human activity in site save for the distant galvanized steel towers carrying electrical power lines to who knows where. An occasional gentle breeze counteracted the fierce heat of the equatorial sun making conditions even pleasant at times. By 4:30 p.m. half of the 180' long building had its roof installed. A meal of vegetables, millet and ugali (cornmeal) was served to the tired crew amidst jokes and affectionate teasing of one another as if in a silly manner of celebrating the day's accomplishments. Slightly dehydrated, and in need of a shower and a meal which consisted of anything other than millet and ugali, I headed back to Kitale, tired but grateful for what we had safely achieved under God's watchful eye, I believe I felt His pleasure also.

Installing a roof

I have discovered a few places on this earth which have become almost sacred to me. Revered places where God's creation can leave me stunned into silence by the beauty, where the command to 'be still, and know that I am God' cannot be ignored. A retreat center in the Kakamega rain forest of western Kenya is one of those places. I make every effort to retreat to such a place for a day once per month.  Away from the demands of living in Africa, away from things unfamiliar to me, away from poverty and famine and the perception that I am somehow the answer to a giant problem. I am never disappointed when I come here but rather refreshed and renewed. As I write this note I am housed in a cabin, located in the forest. The solid cedar floor creaking under the strain of its years doesn't bother me as it might in other places. The antique desk made of teak taken from the forest itself, (probably during colonial times), matches the ornately carved four poster bed, delicately draped with a white linen mosquito net. It feels like a million miles away from the immense problems facing most people here. I'm reminded again that Africa is a mysterious land of extremes in contrast. She is seductive yet harsh.

Rain Forest

Rain Forest 2

There was a minor challenge on the drive in to the retreat center this time however since the previous day 28 millimeters of rain had fallen on an already muddy road. Fortunately the morning sun had dried the surface to a point where my 4 wheel drive vehicle just managed to maneuver through the sticky muck. This time I traveled with four students from Seattle who are staying with us at Brittany's House. As we finally reached the retreat center and checked in the sun still shone hot and bright overhead, amplifying the brilliant vivid colors of exotic tropical flowers and foliage. Afternoon brought shade as white cotton wool clouds began to expel the bright blue of the sky. An hour later the first crack of distant thunder signaled the coming onslaught of torrential, tropical rain. I sat on the veranda watching the water pour from the corrugated metal roof like hundreds of tiny individual waterfalls in front of me. The raindrops crashed atop of the roof with a deafening roar, exciting the senses. I stuck my hand out and watched as my fingers seemed to disappear into the falling rain. The lawn in front, bright shades of green moments earlier turned white as it became submerged under the deluge. I heard the splintering crack of a tree hit by lightening close by and the crash of timber as a limb fell to the forest floor below. It seemed for a moment as if nature were unleashing her fury, but just as suddenly as it had started it was all over. The sky became bright again and the birds began to chirp and reappeared as if nothing had happened. I remembered then, they too are in His grasp.