Kenya Part 2

There is something about Kenya that gets deep in your heart, in your soul even. I had a man tell me recently that Kenya gets in your blood. It doesn't matter if you are a mzungu (white person) or black. There is just something that gets deep inside you while you are there.

I have been lucky to have travelled to many different places. But there have only been two places that I have been to, where I feel completely at home. Like if I had to stay there, I would be okay as long as I could have gainful employment. The first is my beloved Ireland. If anyone knows me, they know that I have had a fasciation with Ireland and the United Kingdom since I was really young.

The other is Kenya. On Friday, of my mission trip, I woke up not feeling well at all. Thursday had been stressful due to some issues of my own making and not being able to get chargers to work and you name it, it went wrong, not to mention I had been sick since before we left the US. So I took Friday off while I was in Kenya. For most of the morning, I sat in a chair in the hotel, writing, reflecting on how terrible I had made some members of the team feel after I couldn't get the chargers to work. To be honest, I was ready to pack up and go spend the rest of my trip in London.

The infamous prayer chair

Then the strangest thing started happening. As I was sitting in the chair, random guests at the guesthouse started walking over to me. They greeted me, but the one person that stood out the most was a man named Paul. Paul is a regular at the guesthouse. So regular that he knows every staff member by name and greets them with a hearty "JAMBO! HABARI YAKO?" Paul started walking towards my seat and I was nervous, but not so nervous that I wouldn't speak. He said "You are Kenyan." It was a statement not a question. I looked around to see who he was talking too. Surely not me, I am a mzungu, definitely not Kenyan. So I ask "Are you talking to me?" He softly laughs and said "Yes, you are a Kenyan, what part of Kenya do you come from?" I said "Sir, I am not Kenyan, I am American." He laughed a bit heartier and said "No, you are Kenyan!" I smiled, thinking this dear man was confused, maybe a little mental, but definitely confused and I repeated myself "No, sir, I am American. I come from North Carolina, USA." He sat down on the sofa near my chair and said "No, you are Kenyan, if not now, someday!"

We proceeded to talk for a bit, and as the lady that cleaned our room walked past, he said "JAMBO CHRISTINE! HABARI YAKO?" Then turned to me and said softly "Jambo means hello and Habari Yako means How are you?" I looked at him and said "ndio (yes)". He smiled and said "I knew you were Kenyan." We proceeded to talk for a bit longer about the state of the United Methodist Church. When it was time for Paul to check out for the weekend, he got ready to leave, he shook my hand and said "It was very nice to meet you, Rachel, the Kenyan from America!" I said "Paul, is there anything I can pray for you?" He said "Rachel, if I told you all my troubles the world would rest on your shoulders." I stood up and said "Well then can I just pray with you in general for your safe travels home?" He took my hand and said "Yes, yes, you can pray!" So I stood there in the hotel in Nairobi with a complete stranger praying. Then he hugged me. Let me just tell you, you don't know what a HUG is until you get a hug from someone you prayed with!

Later that day I was in the cafe at the hotel eating dinner. While I was there, I had the urge to ask a young waitress if I could pray for her. She said "Yes, please pray for my family!" I asked if I could pray with her before I left and she said "Yes, yes, please!" So I stood there on the side of a hill overlooking Nairobi, praying for this young sister in faith.

I don't tell this story to brag on what I did. I want to share with you all that the simplest act can change someone's day. I could have easily sat in the chair in the Guest House and not said one thing to any of these people. I could have ignored them, or spoke to them, but not listened. Instead, I allowed them to come to me, to tell their stories.

You see when I went to Kenya, I went to change people. I went to give people hope. I remember that Grace, aggravated at me said "Maybe your heart isn't in the right place to be here." And I have to admit that my heart wasn't in the right place...I wanted to do ministry, I wanted to teach; but Kenya doesn't need is another teacher. They don't need another mzungu to come in and try to change their lives. What they need is someone to come in and love them where they are; and to receive the love they have to give. And that is what I got, after Friday, my heart was set in the right place to be able to receive the lessons that came with a short term mission trip to Kenya.