The crackle of the small aircraft's P.A. system brought me back from the brink. You know the place, where you're not really asleep but you're not awake either. That point where the sound of soft muffled voices, somewhere around you, blend with an oncoming dream. "Ladies and gentlemen, sorry for the delay" the pilot announced unassuringly, "but we're going to go for it now".  My head was resting in the space between the seat back and the bulkhead and I felt a creek in my neck as I turned to peer through the window of the dimly lit cabin. We were sat on the tarmac at Eldoret International Airport, where only one scheduled flight arrives each day. Waiting for a thunderstorm to pass before we took off on a ten minute hop to the airstrip in Kitale. Torrential rain, pouring down relentlessly on the planes fuselage, made a soothing, purring sound before running off the wings in silvery streaks, forming circular ripples on the watery surface of the tarmac. Lights reflecting from the terminal building danced on the ripples in random patterns. At least the lightening seemed more distant now though.

I glanced at my watch, it was six thirty in the evening and prematurely dark outside. I had dozed off for thirty blissful minutes. It had been forty hours since I had left home.

Every minute of the long haul back to Kenya had been worth it though. A week earlier I had become a grandfather for the first time to a precious baby boy, born two months prematurely. Joshua John had surprised us all, off to an early start on life's journey. I pictured him in my mind and caught the reflection of my tired but proud smile in the plane's window. Granddad I thought to myself. It hasn't sunk in yet but it will.

Joshua John

The planes prop on the starboard wing sprang to life and I watched it blow shimmering ripples across the water as we taxied forward. Soon we were off, banking sharply to the east. I watched the town of Eldoret, the scene of ugly, violent tribal clashes a few months ago, disappear from view as we flew into the charcoal gray clouds.

An early arrival into Nairobi that morning had allowed me time to visit the well we had just helped drill at Soeto Academy, located in the vast slum of Kibera. Now the drilling of a borehole has to be the most anticlimactic of projects. The pursuit of water begins with a vision, followed by hours of planning, surveys and preparation, before impressive machinery finally arrives to hammer through the bedrock. Patient onlookers watch enthusiastically and anticipation rises as length after length of pipe is welded together before it disappears below the earth's surface. Like a giant straw, it reaches down to some invisible aquifer, in this case, hundreds of meters below ground. Once in place, test pumping is done for a twenty four hour period to determine the capacity of the well before the pipe is capped and all there is to show for the seemingly endless hours of labor at that point is an unimpressive, stubby steel pipe, protruding a few inches above a mound of mud. Now the pursuit changes course, and the search for a pump begins.

Borehole seeks pump

I stayed up as late as I could that night but at 5 a.m. I laid flat on my back in bed, hands behind my head, waiting for the morning rays to arrive, thankful for having avoided jet lag for the most part. My mind was well at work rehearsing a 'to do' list before the first chirping bird became my cue to throw back the blankets.

I was anxious the find out how the guys building the school and clinic in Chemali had progressed during the 3 weeks I had been away so my first call was to Anthanas, the main man in charge of construction. He gave me good news, he usually does. The foundations and slabs of both building are complete and the steel has been erected.         "There's not enough cement remaining to complete the outer walls is there Anthanas"? I asked, pushing my luck on the good news front. "Yes", he replied, "there is not." I remembered the word yes in Swahili really means 'it is so'.

"If I send down 80 bags more will it be enough" I enquired.         "No" he replied, "it will be too much". God really meant it when he said he would confuse languages at the tower of Babel I thought to myself.

Anthanas supervises foundation work

Working in Africa is sort of like starting a heavy locomotive or maybe a roller coaster train. It takes every ounce of your energy to get things moving and it all seems up hill at first. But once there's momentum and you start down the other side, all you have to do is hang on and keep things on track. Train wrecks are particularly messy here so there is lots of incentive to do so. Too often though, you become witness to a train wreck of a different nature and much more devastating when it impacts the life of someone you know. I was about to learn of one. I walked into the kitchen at Brittany's House to the shrill of Brittany's greeting. "Daddy yangu" she yelled. (My daddy.) She ran toward me, stood on my foot, grabbed my leg and looked up at me with a beaming smile, all in one motion as only a three year old can. Ann was rolling out chapatti doe on the counter top. She smiled, brushed the flour from her hands and gave me a welcome back hug. "How is everything" I asked her. "We are all fine" she said, but without her normal conviction. "And your family at home, are they well"? "Yes, but my sister is very sick" Ann replied as she glanced down at the floor. "And she has two kids". I knew better than to ask for details. "Would you like her to come and visit you"? I suggested. "That would be good" she replied.

Ann's sister lives far away, over a day's travel time on a bus, but she will arrive in a couple of days time. Her two daughters aged ten and seven will stay with us at Brittany's House when their mother travels back home alone a few days later. They'll be unaware that they may not see her again but their innocent mother will know. Unless there is a miracle there will soon be six kids living with us at Brittany's House, four of them orphaned. But that's fine, I guess God knew I would need nine bedrooms when I asked him for only one four years ago. So for those who have already visited us you are about to get even more extended family and for those of you who have yet to come, there's still lots of room. I've no clue where this is all going or what the next chapter will bring, but it really doesn't matter. After all, the Christian life is far better than a roller coaster ride, because what I do know is this, there won't be a train wreck, so long as I remain in His grasp.