Unlike on my first morning in Nicaragua, there was no wake-up call to get me up and out of bed. As a result, I didn’t awake till 9:30 that day, pretty late by Kenyan standards (the kids were up between 5 and 6 everyday).
My team members from my Nic trip certainly can attest to my love of sleep and desire to savour more of it (was I ALWAYS the last one up? I can’t remember anymore...). It’s not even really that I’m not a morning person; I love the results that come from getting an early start and checking off productive actions of a “to do list” prior to midday.
I think it’s really just my desire to please my body’s physiological clock as much as possible. Being a guest at an orphanage with no major work requirements gifted me the luxury of “physiologically” babying myself. As a result, most days I got up when my body compelled me. Selfish maybe? Way-to-take-care-of-yourself-Jon smart perhaps? Lazy? Whatever you think, that was the stance I took and that is all I have to say about that.
After stumbling into the office for breakfast, I recalled the plan to go into town for the morning. Seeing as it was already nearly 10, Walter was ready to take us in the minute we had had our fill and gulped our last sip of chai tea.
DETOUR #2
African Chai Tea is superior to all of the hot beverages I have ever consumed. This is coming from a coffee addict, people. I started up on this stuff and never looked back. Usually I need at least one coffee to get me through a day. Not in Kenya, not with Chai around.
Chai is the perfect blend of tea leaves, spices, and hot milk combined into one delectable concoction of a hot beverage. It gave me the kick I needed each day, and probably supplied me with a lot more nutrition value than all those coffees had back home. Although, it might have been unhealthy how much of it I consumed when given the chance. We’ll call it a wash.
I tried Tim’s Chai when I got home from the trip and literally cried it was so subpar. So I’m back on the Joe again unfortunately. What I would give though for an authentic Kenyan Chai Tea right now!
At the orphanage, Chai was what everyone had to drink, all of the time. The workers drank it for break in blistering, peak day temperatures. The kids had it with all of their meals. All of the dairy milked from the farm went directly into the Chai. Even the youngest kids were sipping Chai for breakfast. I had no problem embracing this philosophy of Chai everywhere, Chai always. Although hot Chai after working the fields? C’mon now, that’s just ridiculous.
Okay that’s enough about Chai. I’m sorry you all can’t experience it and won’t rub it in any further.
Back to the story… oh ya, we left for Kitale town. We walked from Baba Nyumbani to the main road that would take us into town. Walter hailed a taxi, and Jared, Eli, Walter, and I jammed into a taxi car that already had 2-3 occupants. I think it was two, sometimes you just don’t know. They cram these vehicles pretty tight! Taxi vans are even worse. People will literally hang out the side of them if it means catching a ride into town. Thankfully, I never had to experience that, but Jared would tell you that it’s worth the reduced fare.
We arrived in town and paid our cab driver 200 Kenyan shillings for the four of us. We got about 75-80 shillings to the US$, depending on where we exchanged money. So that ride had cost us each less than one dollar a head for a 15-20 minute drive. I was going to like cost-efficient Kenya.
The town if Kitale was a sight to behold. People were everywhere walking the crowded streets of a town that, at its core, wasn’t much larger than 5 square kilometers. Street vendors lined all the roads selling a wide assortment of goods. Here’s an example of some of the items you could expect to find on one particular strip in the city: socks, rugs, maize-on-the-cob, English Premier league jerseys, a megastore (transmatt supermarket was a personal favorite), pineapples, motorcycles, cell phone minutes, and seamstress services. It was definitely a unique smorgasbord of good and services!
I took the opportunity to look for Kenyan soccer jerseys for my two brothers, but Jared told me that they were difficult to find. Authentic Kenyan clothing had taken the back seat to the overwhelming importation of North American and European clothing articles. As a result, it was much cheaper to buy an authentic replica EPL jersey than it was to buy and even find a Kenyan soccer kit. I ended up buying my brother Eric a new Manchester United jersey, his favorite soccer team in Europe. On a later date, I followed that up with a Liverpool jersey for Matt.
The first experience with haggling in Kenya went over well. It’s always nice when you share a common language, which was the key difference from my attempt at Nicaraguan haggling (thank you April and Kevin Voorberg). After a satisfactory transaction, Eli and I made for the Coffee Shop, a nice little hub where we could enjoy some drinks, food, and internet access.
We regularly frequented the Coffee Shop during our time in Kitale time. That day I elected to have a light snack of chips (what they call French fries) and orange Fanta. Coca-cola and Fanta products are probably one of the few North American influences on Kenyan culture. I also finally let my parents know that I was alive and enjoying my experiences thus far via email.
One of the high points, while at the same time, low points of my day, included my first motorbike ride back to the orphanage. The greatest two things about riding on a bike are the efficiency, and breeze that comes from riding open cockpit. Our pilots took every opportunity to pass any vehicle moving even moderately slowly. Suffice to say, there were some close calls. Things that come to mind personally include: tailgating trucks with loosely bound lumber protruding out of their boxes, passing a taxi who at the same time is passing a truck on the shoulder of the road, and the ever popular forgetting to decelerate over pot holes.
But these are not the low points for a motorbike taxi trip. What ruined my experience was getting lost on the way back. I knew were in trouble when Eli and his driver left our plane of view. This was only be second time riding to the orphanage and I was not able to identify the proper markings. I was hoping Eli and his driver had stopped to wait but that was not the case. So my driver and I enjoyed a nice little detour.
The detour was long enough that we had to get some gas. I decided it would be a good idea to finance this expense, if it meant going back and figuring out where we missed our turn off. 50 bob (Kenyan slang for shillings) of petro got us back on the road. I eventually got my bearings and figured out where to go.
We met up with Eli and his driver who had turned back to look for us. They drove us the rest of the way to our compound where we thanked them for their efforts, and then exchanged God’s blessing among. Can’t remember getting a “God bless you” in the past from a taxi cab driver, and it just kind of struck me how we don’t take opportunities like that, even among Christians, to bless each other in God’s name in our communities. Why is that?
Without getting into a philosophical discussion as to why their culture is much more publicly expressive of their faith, I will say that you can definitely feel God’s presence much more in a place like Kenya. I have a list of reasons that would give support to the argument that God in Kenya is a much more visible character, but I will leave that discussion for a chapter to come.
Hope you’ve enjoyed reading so far! Hear are some of the chapters you have to look forward to in the near future: Of Football and Fanta, Kenya’s Got Talent, The Curious Incident of the Maize Thief in the Nighttime, and Pastoral Debut.
Also, just as an additional side note, these chapters will begin to become less about chronology, and more about capturing the overarching story behind the people and places that were a part of my incredible time in Africa.
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