My first full day in Kenya followed a very active first
evening in Kenya, and I wasn’t the active one.
Before turning in for the night the stars had disappeared. Well, they didn’t disappear, but they were
hiding behind some very thick clouds.
Those clouds decided to introduce themselves at about 11:30pm. The rain was incredibly heavy and it lasted
quite awhile. You may have never had the
pleasure of sleeping underneath a tin roof (let alone one without insulation)
during a rain storm. Here’s an easy way
to simulate the experience. Hold a
cookie sheet over your head and have someone dump buckets of pennies over
you. Seriously. Unlike the penny scenario, the rain
eventually became some melodic OR I was so exhausted that I was hallucinating
and eventually passed out from exhaustion.
I prefer to think the former, but the latter is more likely.
I woke up after about 7 hours of sleep and I was thankful
for every minute. I flipped on the
switch to begin the warm of the heating coils for a shower and “tidied” up my
room. 20 minutes later I hopped in the
shower (sans shower curtain) and turned on the water. Nothing.
It was perfectly logical for me to repeat the process of closing and
opening the knob several more times expecting something to change. Alas, it did not. I got dressed and was about to head back
outside when Job knocked at the door. I
greeted him and he asked, “So, how eeze yoo-ah moaning so fah?” I showed him the shower. He too repeated the same process of closing
and opening the spicket… clearly that means I’m not crazy. One of the workers came down to turn the OTHER spicket just outside my door that
permitted the water to flow freely through the shower head. With all the rain we had I was sure there
would be water, and now I know it was merely being prevented from
escaping. Problem solved. Thank you Jesus.
We ate hard boiled eggs and bread along with a cup of tea
while we talked about the days events.
The eggs must have just come out of the water because the shells burnt
my fingers. Job had no problem with
them, but mine sat there lifeless until the cooled off some more. It was already 81 degrees so it took a little
while. No matter, they were delicious.
The only thing on the schedule for today was to visit Sam’s
home. This was the custom of the
Luo. The week(s) before the burial,
everyone comes to the home of the deceased following a very specific set of
rules. We were no different.
As we walked toward Sam’s home, Job filled me in on what we
were going to encounter. We had very few
interruptions as we walked. Two are
worth noting. 
A couple of Job’s friends saw us walk by so they hurried to
catch up with us. They spoke very little
English so Job translated. “They wahnt to hahve a peek-cha weeth yoo.” “Shoo-ah,” I said (I have a tendency to speak
English like a Kenyan… it makes it much easier for them to understand me). They stood on either side of me; each of them
about a foot away. I’m not sure how many
white people they see, but it didn’t appear that they’ve ever been this close
to one in the wild. I stretched out my
arms and pulled them both against me at the same time. They immediately began to laugh as Job
snapped off some photos. I may have
pulled a little to hard because they almost collapsed into me. They continued to walk with us for a bit
until we stopped to say hi to some friends from Mbaka Oromo. We then came upon a woman who was
working. She also asked for a picture. Job told her that we would do it on the way
back. “I weel task heem weeth
that.” She responded. Job replied,
“Why don’t you make some tea for us, too.” (Here comes the haymaker) “You don’t drink
tea, you eat dogs.” WHAT?! Where did that come from? A rather lively discussion between Job and I
followed. Apparently, Kenyans have their
own set of stereotypes based on a person’s nationality. Despite my height, I was placed into
one. Job said, “She must think all you
mzungo look alike.” I told him it was
his fault and he was ruining my reputation (Job has been known to harass Karen
about hunting our dog Sox when he comes to visit).
Time passed quickly and we found ourselves at Sam’s.
His entire family was there.
His sister Anne, all his sons and daughters, as well as some frineds
were there, all helping prepare the grounds for the ceremony. His first (that was news to me) and his
second wife had returned as well. The
property had changed significantly since I was here in January. Two small homes were being finished where
part of his cornfield used to be. I saw
our friend Caleb among the workers. As
custom dictates, we said nothing as we followed the foot path to Sam’s
house. We entered past Sam's drums that were sitting on the ground outside the doorway. Job said a short prayer before we sat down on a couch in front
of a wooden table. This was the same
seat I took in January, only Sam sat ironing his robes for church. I can still hear his laughter bouncing off
the walls. On another table sat Sam's drumsticks.
Once seated, people slowly entered to greet us. “Pole sana,” (So very sorry) was the most
common phrase. Everyone that entered was
quiet but smiling. His son Alex (who is
probably around 20) was the only one who was visibly shaken. I put my arm around him as I held his
hand and gave him a firm hug. He shook hands with Job and Caleb (who
followed us in and sat) and then went back outside. I haven’t seen him in several years because
of boarding school. He looks like a
smaller version of Sam. He’s grown into
a man… a very strong frame with broad shoulders and sharp facial features. 
After about an hour, we went outside where there were
several small groups sitting in resin chairs talking (presumably about
Sam). We were no different. The stories continued until a couple of men
joined us. The stories were only interrupted
by unscheduled moments of silence between them.
It was then that you could hear the leaves rustling above our heads in
the avocado trees. A hen wandered by
with 5 or 6 chicks in tow, peeping quite loudly. The occasional “moo” from cows is always
present, too. Surprisingly, the children
from the primary school next door weren’t making a sound. Frankly, I didn’t even know they were there
until Job told me later in the day. Eventually, someone else would begin
talking. Then those stories changed
again when John Oguso and Dan Otieno arrived.
Dan is Samuel’s older brother and John is Sam’s neighbor and very dear
friend. They both hugged me and said,
“hello.” Dan was walking with a cane and
a mild limp – he had fractured his ankle last month and his cast was removed last week. It’s not really accurate for
me to say, “he was walking with a cane…”
The cane spent most of the time in the air next to him. The limp was the only reason you knew the can
was his, otherwise you would have thought he was bringing it for someone else.
He brought the funeral programs with him and handed me
one. I was deeply moved by it’s
contents. I won’t provide you with those
details until after the service on Saturday… I know that some attendees will be
reading this.
They asked about each family member by name, Andrea, Kevin,
Katie and Karen. I inquired about their
families, too, and they’re all doing well.
It is very rare to hear something to the contrary. It’s part of the reason why we love these
people so much. I don’t know if the word
“complaining” exists in Kiswahili or Doluo.
Dan was kind enough to give us a ride back to the hotel. It wasn’t much above 85, but it felt warmer. It was a late lunch – close to 3
o’clock. We brought an avocado from one
of Sam’s trees and I ate it with my chicken.
Sam was known for enormous avocados.
This one was quite small – Job said it was due to the lack of sun (it’s
been raining a lot for the last several weeks).
Regardless of the size, it was delicious.
Caleb and Job left soon after eating.
Job returned a few hours later, but neither of us ate. We talked about the procession tomorrow as
the bring Sam from the mortuary to his home.
We will meet them at the church and accompany them to his house. We’ll spend the entire day there with his
family and friends before heading back at around 7pm. Then, at the service on Saturday, it will be
another full day. We’ve said “goodbye”
to friends here during two of our trips here.
That’s two too many.
See you tomorrow.
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