Always after a good blog post, I feel a little hesitant, knowing whatever comes next will be a disappointment. So I've delayed writing, and as for the content, well, I apologize in advance. It can't possibly be as exciting as the involuntary extreme-motorcross-in-a-station-wagon from the last post.
But I've had a marvelous Spring Break. It's Saturday now, almost over, and I didn't go anywhere, unlike friends who went to Mauritius or Egypt or Wyoming. But I am rested. I've slept, watched DVDs, read many books, and made biscuits. I finished some things I've needed to do for a while, like giving away old clothes and getting papers notarized in Purgatory (aka the Citizen Services Office of the American Embassy).
But mostly, I drove. My little Ladybug has lived in Nairobi for a quite a while, and she navigated the potholes, hills, speed bumps, and roundabouts pretty well. I put her through her paces; my primary goal for the week was to know I could get around Nairobi.
For those of you who haven't had the joy and thrill (well, mostly thrill) of driving in this part of the world, let me summarize a few of the reasons it's more exciting: 1) Right hand drive, left hand shift. 2) Lanes are a loose concept. 3) Roundabouts are big, multi-laned, and unavoidable. 4) Matatus (mini-buses) are constantly having to pull over, stop, get more passengers, and then frantically merge and accelerate to pass their competition. 5) Cops are mostly on foot, armed only with hats and flashlights, and they have big pockets for dealing with offenses they make up on the spot, like missing fire extinguishers or first aid kits. Avoiding eye contact is key.
But even in the face of all these obstacles, I knew it would be psychologically good for me if I could get around confidently. I also knew I was scared, and bringing someone else along for the ride would only make it worse- more than one person would be crying. And finally I knew I needed a plan that involved rewards, preferably food, in order to get myself to do this. So last Tuesday, I took a deep breath, my map, and my gift certificate for a phenomenal Italian restaurant, and set out. I was wildly successful, avoiding any collisions, navigating several roundabouts, and discovering quite by accident just how close together many of my favorite restaurants are. True, I discovered this by missing a few turns, but that's the glory of a roundabout: you just go around again!
One great thing about living here is that you realize that, at some point, all food was based on reality. No matter how packaged and processed and cream-of-something-or-another normal food is in the US, at one point deep in its history, you could actually create some version of it from things that came out of the ground. Amazing. There is nothing like a scarcity of convenience foods and a plethora of produce markets to convince a person of this fact. So my edible rewards for driving bravery were well-considered: there is great food to be had in Nairobi. On this particular day, I ate the great-granddaddy of the fried cheese stick- a 3 inch round morsel of mozzarella cheese, accentuated by eggplant, pesto, and roasted red pepper in the center. Yummy!
And so of course I was inspired to try new adventures and more good food the next few days. As I slowly extended the distance I felt comfortable traveling, I wondered at all my experiences that, put together, made driving here not that bad. I had learned to drive stick on hills as part of growing up in Los Alamos. I could already shift with my left hand, a rare skill developed in middle school when my mother had shoulder surgery. Nairobi traffic doesn't seem that bad compared to Bangkok, and some would argue that I am a naturally aggressive driver (One friend tells this pithy anecdote: "Well, we made it to Utah and back in record time. Only one vehicle passed Jessie. It was an ambulance." He exaggerates. I remember at least 2 passes: the ambulance and the car following it). Anyway, driving went well, and now that I've accomplished it, I feel quite comfortable getting to the various areas of town.
So when you come to visit, I can pick you up at the airport and take you to the best places to eat, all sans tears. What a worthwhile Spring Break!
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Short Loud Prayers
I think I may have just experienced my first real rain here: walls of water, drops the size of Hershey's Kisses, 3 hours strong and counting.
When it started, I was over at my prayer partner's house for the evening, waiting for her to arrive. She had invited me to come at 6, but I'm learning about Kenyan time, so I didn't even leave my house until 6:03. I drove my new-to-me little red station wagon, affectionately called the Ladybug for its black spots of rust on its bright red exterior. I've only had it for about a week, and the freedom of owning a car is intoxicating. So I'm still in that adolescent stage of "I'll drive! Sure! No problem!"
When I arrived at 6:20, I saw that her vehicle wasn't in the carport, but her family let me in and I ducked into a side room to wait. And wait. At 6:30 it starts to rain. At 7 she calls and says she's about to leave her office. At 8 she arrives, we pray, and we sit and talk over dinner. I ask her if the rainy season has started; she tells me it has. I say I kind of like the rain, and she looks at me like I'm crazy. But at this point my only experience with the rain has been the lullaby of water falling on big tropical leaves as I drift off to sleep. Well, my perspective was about to change.
When I go to leave at 9:30, she sees how hard it is raining and advises me to wait a bit. A half hour later, I'm nearly falling asleep in my chair, and I decide I need to get home before I become an unsafe driver. So she pulls out an umbrella, walks me to the car, we both get a little wet, she makes sure the Ladybug starts, and I pull out of the driveway.
As soon as I'm on the road, I see that there are several issues. Yes, I've got the windshield wipers on. But the headlights aren't particularly bright. And I've never turned on the heat or defrost in this car, and the windows are fogging up in a hurry. I jiggle some switches and knobs. The rain is really coming down, and by the time I turn on the main road, I'm laughing to myself about what a crazy adventure it is to drive in such serious rain. I'm from New Mexico; I've never seen the sky give up this much water.
In fact, there's so much water that it's kind of covering the road. And now I can't see the speed bumps. And now I can't quite see where the road is. And now I'm no longer laughing. I'm praying. Loudly.
My family has always been amused by my prayer habits. When I was 5, my parents took us on a scary Snow White ride at Disneyworld that had a witch that looked like it was going to roll a boulder onto us. And I knew that Jesus has power over that sort of stuff, so I started to pray "HelpmeJesusHelpmeJesusHelpmeJesus!" And he must have; we got out of the ride and the witch didn't get us. :) A few years later, when my dad taught me to ski on the not-so-beginner-friendly Pajarito Mountain, I pointed my skis downhill, didn't yet know how to turn, and instead prayed (screamed), "Dear Jesus please help those people to MOVE! Dear Jesus please help those people to MOVE!" Again, I saw that prayer is effective. Those people moved. Probably they were mostly getting away from the short shrieking ball of magenta ski clothes, but God could have used that in answering my prayer...
So tonight, when the water covered the road and I felt, for the first time, the dent it puts in your acceleration when your ENTIRE BUMPER is underwater, I fell back to my default prayers: simple and repetitive. Lord God, please take me through. Lord God, please take me through. Lord God, please take me through. Don't let me get stuck on something in the middle of this river. Don't let my engine die. Don't let me get washed away. Lord God, please take me through. Lord God, please take me through.
And in that repetition, I realized I was also praying about this season of my life. Lord God, please take me through. Don't let me feel like this forever. Don't let my willingness to serve You die. Don't let me get washed away in relational limbo. Lord God, please take me through.
Sure enough, I emerged from Runda onto Limuru road, down the alley to Rosslyn, and eventually through the gate and to my parking spot. And my prayer changed: Lord God, You took me through! Lord God, you took me through! Sure enough, the Ladybug had pushed through the flood and was standing, safe and sopping, on familiar ground.
I too have been protected despite the precipitation. I am indeed through.
And it has stopped raining.
When it started, I was over at my prayer partner's house for the evening, waiting for her to arrive. She had invited me to come at 6, but I'm learning about Kenyan time, so I didn't even leave my house until 6:03. I drove my new-to-me little red station wagon, affectionately called the Ladybug for its black spots of rust on its bright red exterior. I've only had it for about a week, and the freedom of owning a car is intoxicating. So I'm still in that adolescent stage of "I'll drive! Sure! No problem!"
When I arrived at 6:20, I saw that her vehicle wasn't in the carport, but her family let me in and I ducked into a side room to wait. And wait. At 6:30 it starts to rain. At 7 she calls and says she's about to leave her office. At 8 she arrives, we pray, and we sit and talk over dinner. I ask her if the rainy season has started; she tells me it has. I say I kind of like the rain, and she looks at me like I'm crazy. But at this point my only experience with the rain has been the lullaby of water falling on big tropical leaves as I drift off to sleep. Well, my perspective was about to change.
When I go to leave at 9:30, she sees how hard it is raining and advises me to wait a bit. A half hour later, I'm nearly falling asleep in my chair, and I decide I need to get home before I become an unsafe driver. So she pulls out an umbrella, walks me to the car, we both get a little wet, she makes sure the Ladybug starts, and I pull out of the driveway.
As soon as I'm on the road, I see that there are several issues. Yes, I've got the windshield wipers on. But the headlights aren't particularly bright. And I've never turned on the heat or defrost in this car, and the windows are fogging up in a hurry. I jiggle some switches and knobs. The rain is really coming down, and by the time I turn on the main road, I'm laughing to myself about what a crazy adventure it is to drive in such serious rain. I'm from New Mexico; I've never seen the sky give up this much water.
In fact, there's so much water that it's kind of covering the road. And now I can't see the speed bumps. And now I can't quite see where the road is. And now I'm no longer laughing. I'm praying. Loudly.
My family has always been amused by my prayer habits. When I was 5, my parents took us on a scary Snow White ride at Disneyworld that had a witch that looked like it was going to roll a boulder onto us. And I knew that Jesus has power over that sort of stuff, so I started to pray "HelpmeJesusHelpmeJesusHelpmeJesus!" And he must have; we got out of the ride and the witch didn't get us. :) A few years later, when my dad taught me to ski on the not-so-beginner-friendly Pajarito Mountain, I pointed my skis downhill, didn't yet know how to turn, and instead prayed (screamed), "Dear Jesus please help those people to MOVE! Dear Jesus please help those people to MOVE!" Again, I saw that prayer is effective. Those people moved. Probably they were mostly getting away from the short shrieking ball of magenta ski clothes, but God could have used that in answering my prayer...
So tonight, when the water covered the road and I felt, for the first time, the dent it puts in your acceleration when your ENTIRE BUMPER is underwater, I fell back to my default prayers: simple and repetitive. Lord God, please take me through. Lord God, please take me through. Lord God, please take me through. Don't let me get stuck on something in the middle of this river. Don't let my engine die. Don't let me get washed away. Lord God, please take me through. Lord God, please take me through.
And in that repetition, I realized I was also praying about this season of my life. Lord God, please take me through. Don't let me feel like this forever. Don't let my willingness to serve You die. Don't let me get washed away in relational limbo. Lord God, please take me through.
Sure enough, I emerged from Runda onto Limuru road, down the alley to Rosslyn, and eventually through the gate and to my parking spot. And my prayer changed: Lord God, You took me through! Lord God, you took me through! Sure enough, the Ladybug had pushed through the flood and was standing, safe and sopping, on familiar ground.
I too have been protected despite the precipitation. I am indeed through.
And it has stopped raining.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Obedience
Coming back was hard this time.
Maybe it reminded me too much of my first trip here- saying goodbye to my parents at O'Hare, waiting at the same gate, flying into Heathrow.
Maybe it's that I don't have a trip to the States planned right now, though I definitely felt like I didn't quite fit in North America this time.
Maybe it was just the emotional letdown after a very intense week (I promise I'll write a fun post and put up some pictures of the wedding soon!).
Maybe I was all too aware that I could have just gotten on a plane to New Mexico instead of to Nairobi. I've been to the US twice since I've moved, and yet never gone "home." I miss my church and my friends, and I feel those relationships cycling down yet another level. And corresponding relationships here haven't necessarily filled in that space, so I'm feeling disconnected.
And maybe most of all, it's that life here wasn't looking like an exciting adventure. The unknown is glamorous, and living in Nairobi doesn't feel that way right now. Perhaps I'm a bit of a drama addict- I like having a good story to tell, and I don't see many good stories on the horizon. Catching up on my grading isn't exactly riveting. Even grocery shopping has lost its edge. ;) Yes, it's good that I'm adjusting and not having to overcome giant difficulties every day. It's right that I have found a routine and some level of normalcy in my life. It was just hard to be excited about traveling for 30 hours to go back to normal- well, normal without family and with the now-expected "Welcome to Nairobi!" intestinal issues.
I'm a big whiner. My life here is good! I like my job, I've found a church, I'm putting down roots. Relationships take time, and I haven't even been here a full school year. As my friend Tim reminded me, "It took me about a year and a half each time I moved to get plugged in and find my people." It may be mostly the jet-lag talking tonight, but I'm struggling with lack of patience, with being separated from people who are important to me, and with uncertainty about my purpose here.
But one thing I am certain of: this is where God has me. He made it incredibly clear about a year ago, opening all the right doors at all the right times, confirming through trusted friends, and providing phenomenally for my material needs. Incidentally, He has continued to provide- my broken computer got fixed for free while I was Stateside, and I just bought a lovely little clunker of a car that will NEVER get broken into. =) And yet, despite all that clarity, I wonder what story God is telling through this chapter of my life. And even with my years of growing faith, I'm a little fearful that it's not a good story.
But I know that's not true. And so, regardless of my feelings, I obediently got on the plane back to Nairobi. I trust that God's will is good. I trust that His plans are to prosper me and not to harm me, to give me a hope and a future. But I need some encouragement right now, some external confirmation of the truths to which I internally hold. And I know my Great Provider will provide even that.
Maybe it reminded me too much of my first trip here- saying goodbye to my parents at O'Hare, waiting at the same gate, flying into Heathrow.
Maybe it's that I don't have a trip to the States planned right now, though I definitely felt like I didn't quite fit in North America this time.
Maybe it was just the emotional letdown after a very intense week (I promise I'll write a fun post and put up some pictures of the wedding soon!).
Maybe I was all too aware that I could have just gotten on a plane to New Mexico instead of to Nairobi. I've been to the US twice since I've moved, and yet never gone "home." I miss my church and my friends, and I feel those relationships cycling down yet another level. And corresponding relationships here haven't necessarily filled in that space, so I'm feeling disconnected.
And maybe most of all, it's that life here wasn't looking like an exciting adventure. The unknown is glamorous, and living in Nairobi doesn't feel that way right now. Perhaps I'm a bit of a drama addict- I like having a good story to tell, and I don't see many good stories on the horizon. Catching up on my grading isn't exactly riveting. Even grocery shopping has lost its edge. ;) Yes, it's good that I'm adjusting and not having to overcome giant difficulties every day. It's right that I have found a routine and some level of normalcy in my life. It was just hard to be excited about traveling for 30 hours to go back to normal- well, normal without family and with the now-expected "Welcome to Nairobi!" intestinal issues.
I'm a big whiner. My life here is good! I like my job, I've found a church, I'm putting down roots. Relationships take time, and I haven't even been here a full school year. As my friend Tim reminded me, "It took me about a year and a half each time I moved to get plugged in and find my people." It may be mostly the jet-lag talking tonight, but I'm struggling with lack of patience, with being separated from people who are important to me, and with uncertainty about my purpose here.
But one thing I am certain of: this is where God has me. He made it incredibly clear about a year ago, opening all the right doors at all the right times, confirming through trusted friends, and providing phenomenally for my material needs. Incidentally, He has continued to provide- my broken computer got fixed for free while I was Stateside, and I just bought a lovely little clunker of a car that will NEVER get broken into. =) And yet, despite all that clarity, I wonder what story God is telling through this chapter of my life. And even with my years of growing faith, I'm a little fearful that it's not a good story.
But I know that's not true. And so, regardless of my feelings, I obediently got on the plane back to Nairobi. I trust that God's will is good. I trust that His plans are to prosper me and not to harm me, to give me a hope and a future. But I need some encouragement right now, some external confirmation of the truths to which I internally hold. And I know my Great Provider will provide even that.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Joys and Sorrows
I'm in the States in preparation for Ben and Christy's wedding- which is a joy!
And as life always is, there's a little sorrow mixed in the middle; today is the anniversary of John Jensen's death in an avalanche. But I'm glad I get to be here with other people who knew him while I mourn another year without my lego-loving friend. I'm sure I'll be able to keep up with him on the ski slopes in heaven. =)
This is one of my favorite pictures. Several of the best men in my life are surrounding me: Jason in front, Zeke at my feet, and John behind.
And as life always is, there's a little sorrow mixed in the middle; today is the anniversary of John Jensen's death in an avalanche. But I'm glad I get to be here with other people who knew him while I mourn another year without my lego-loving friend. I'm sure I'll be able to keep up with him on the ski slopes in heaven. =)
This is one of my favorite pictures. Several of the best men in my life are surrounding me: Jason in front, Zeke at my feet, and John behind.
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