As I begin this entry, I gyrate my 45 inch fan towards me and crank it to high. I'm not so hot that I need the air flow, but a 30 mph wind sure keeps the bugs off of me when the computer is the only light within a mile of here.
At less than a thousand feet above sea level there should be more air here than Purina has puppy pellets, allowing me to enjoy a longer, less arduous jog along the dirt roads of our area. For some reason the level of oxygen this morning resembled that of Mt. Kilimanjaro, and my leisurely run kicked my grits. Old women carrying bundles of sticks on their head passed me as I puffed my way up the hills. The ruts in the road, the large patches of sharp stones, and the herds of goats all required a great deal of circumnavigation. From how I felt at the end my 3 mile run, it must have equaled 17, so I’m good for another week. I have never run here in Kenya, and to people who live and breathe running I must have looked like a total ignoramus plodding along at laughable speeds. They may find this humorous, but let’s see them wolf down three twinkies and a large diet coke while driving down the road with their knees, and then we can talk!!
Our late arrival last night necessitated a run to the stores of Mombasa today for supplies. As we negotiated our way along our dreadful thoroughfares, Anthony pointed out several pieces of broken plastic on the far side of a ravine. I have passed this way a thousand times, admiring the rugged beauty of the cascading rock formations of this tiny gorge. It was less than a week ago that a bus traveled this road, overcrowded and in a hurry to reach its destination. It had just become dark as they peaked over the top of the hill leading down towards the main river that flows through this area. The driver was new and had never taken this road, but he had driven many similar roads in his career. As they came to a series of deep potholes the driver pushed on the brakes so he could slow enough to go around them. The brakes failed, forcing the bus to hit the deep holes, catapulting the passengers from their seats. The grade became immediately more abrupt and the aging bus picked up steam. The driver could not hold the road, but tried valiantly to keep the bus under control even though he was going through fields and bush. With the faint light of the moon he could see an upwards hill in the distance and headed in that direction. He ordered everyone to hold on as they panicked in their helpless situation. He avoided a tree, then another, and just as he thought he was going to begin going up the hill, the bus lunged over the edge of the small gorge where we had stopped, smashing into unforgiving rocks on the opposite side. The driver was killed instantly. Eight others were dead before help arrived. Anthony arrived on the scene moments later on his way home and was shocked at what he saw. Friends bleeding with broken bones and cracked heads. One woman was holding her own intestines in her arms as she was sliced open when flying forward in the cabin from the back rows and then bludgeoned on a luggage rack. Yama called our other board member, Buffalo Mwangi who was only a few miles away and cried for him to bring his truck quickly. This same bumpy vehicle that was used to bring Leah ‘s belongings to the village had become an ambulance. More than 30 people were loaded into the dirty flatbed and began their tortuous ride down the rutted, jarring roads of this area. Within 24 hours 4 more had passed from their injuries, with another half dozen still in critical condition.
Fanny works in our dispensary, logging excruciating hours in order to serve her fellow villagers. She has been trained as a lab tech, and uses our microscope and testing equipment to properly identify malaria and a few other common diseases that, prior to acquiring said microscope, regularly went mistreated. She and her 4-year old daughter were on that bus. Her little girl is always calling to me and waving from the small, makeshift classroom across the tiny road from our center. She wears her little, purple, checkered uniform so proudly, commonly sporting a new style of braid from her mother’s skillful hands. Fanny broke her spine in the accident, but did not sever the cord. She had a broken leg and minor cuts, but will heal with time. What will never mend is her shattered heart, as her beautiful daughter was buried two days later. She was one of the passengers who was killed instantly. Now, where only dry dirt and yellowing shrubs were once visible, a large piece of broken plastic marks the spot where the overfilled bus had this horrible incident.
A trip to Nakumat is like going to Costco without a plan……it can last for hours. We made it as fast as we could, but grocery shopping for a large group who will arrive next week takes a lot of time. We have to plan for the short term, then purchase those items that will last until the expedition is over. Leah got her first taste of how Anthony and I have done this for several years. I think she’ll improve upon it quickly, among other things.
We had to repair a flat tire at Mazeras, but with the amount of punctures these people experience, taking a tire off the hub, removing the nail that caused our leak, repairing it and placing it back on the car took a total of 20 minutes. That doesn’t seem too blistering fast until you realize that there was not one piece of power equipment involved. Hand jack, lug wrench, and tire irons………no zippy lug nut remover, hydraulics or air pressure machines. All by hand. With the mechanics charges and 25% tip, we drove out of there for $3.50. Sometimes it’s just too good to be in Kenya.
When we arrived back at the KCC, Buffalo’s truck was sitting out front being unloaded. Leah quickly went to the room where she will be staying and began nesting. She didn’t know where everything would ultimately go, so she just oversaw the general area stacking of boxes and furniture. She will be very comfortable in her new home with more space than she had in her old apartment in Nairobi. Once everything is placed, she’ll be happy to host her first visitors.
As darkness fell the Kenyan board of Koins was assembled at our favorite spot, on the front lawn of the KCC. We gathered our chairs in a circle and reunited for the first time since January. A lot has happened in that span, so the next couple of hours was filled with laughter, catching up, and serious business. Leah was invited into the circle after we had conducted our regular business and voted unanimously and exuberantly as the newest member, and incoming Executive Director of the Koins for Kenya Board.
Dinner was served as I wrestled with attempting to connect to the internet. I never did eat, but that’s not uncommon when I come to Kenya. I don’t know why, but this place is a great diet plan for me. I don’t mind their food, and quite enjoy many aspects of it, but I somehow lose my desire to eat. Resetting and restarting everything provided some relief, but the connections here in the village are abysmal, at best. Now, with everyone well into slumber and my daily duty fulfilled, I will take my bucket shower under the starry skies, slink under my mosquito netting, and see if I can catch a few hours sleep before that friggin’ rooster starts his daily routine.
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