10- To the Bush of Kenya!

Dallin rode in the back of Fredrick's little white taxi with Kiaruuh, his older brother Kilonzi, and his cousin, all the way back to the Mwingi area, and then up to the bush of Kenya, to their home.  

The closer we got to their home, the more the clouds gathered.

Their family was warm and very welcoming, timid but evidently thrilled that we were there in their home.  Only some of the older children spoke any English.  The mother and others used interpreters when needed, but mostly spoke amongst each other.  They smiled and giggled, and wondered about the situation.  There are 11 children in the family, but some of the older ones were grown and living away on their own.  

Mwangangi family on the day of our departure.  Father is in the suit, and mother is in green.  Kiaruuh has the purple shirt, and the rest are his siblings, with older married brother Kilonzi standing next to his wife, far right.

Kiaruuh gave formal introductions, and then we sat outside looking over the hillside that their family inherited, until the sun went down.  

Panorama of their court yard.  There are three small buildings surrounding the big tree in the center.

The yard overlooks their thirsty garden, a forested valley, and rolling mountainsides

We had dinner (they took out a live chicken for the event, which had moments earlier been underfoot), and I gave out dollar store gifts to the children, who were so thrilled with all of them, and treated each one like a lifetime treasure.  

First time experiencing PopRocks candies!  Spyglass in girl's hand

I pulled out my yellow folder to show them the story of why I was there, and how this all came about.  They loved the pictures that I had printed off, thrilled that I had photos of them, and they gathered tightly around me with a flashlight.

When the father came home, it was after dark.  He walked into the site (we always sat outside as the preferred place to sit together, the climate always pleasant because Kenya sits on the equator).  As the father walked toward me, he was smiling from ear to ear and, chuckling, he raised up his arms, and said, "Hallelujah, it's a miracle!  God has blessed us!  You have come! I can't believe it, it's a miracle!  I can't believe it!"  

After all of the greetings were done, I started again with the story, and he listened intently as his son Kilonzi translated for clarifiication.  

This time when I got to the part about sharing the scriptures with Kiaruuh, I took more time to tell him about the Book of Mormon, and its origin, as ancient scripture of people who came from Jerusalem to the American continent.  I told him of prophecies to the Nephites and Lamanites that Jesus Christ would be their savior, the sign of the new star, and of Jesus' coming to them in their land, after his death and resurrection.  He listened, asked questions, and was happy to accept the Book of Mormon.  It was time to go to bed, and he asked if we could talk about it more the next day. 

That night, in my room, I had just lay down to sleep after my prayers when it started to rain.....And rain... And rain.  It came heavier and heavier and louder and louder by the second. It was the first significant rain over the land of Kenya for many months, and it came down steady and strong, as if were pouring down from heaven.  The rain filled my soul with joy, as the sound of it streaming down on the tin roof flooded that little room of their home, and flooded all the room in my heart.  

The next morning the ground was wet with puddles, and the green was lush (see the puddles on the ground).  

The school children went to school,

...and our good friend Fredrick prepared for home, as he missed his family. We all knew that Dallin and I were in a safe place. We made arrangements so that Kiaruuh would see us safely back to Nairobi, so Fredrick (left) could return home.  It was hard to see him go, but we knew that there was still a good purpose to stay for.  
Dallin and I were well cared for among these good and kind people, who dearly wanted us to stay, and the Lord had a lot more that he wanted to bless them with.

This photo like so many others, captures a serious look that does not represent the joyful expressions that were constantly on their happy faces. 

I had noticed that, when getting ready for a picture, the people there seem to prefer a "respectful" sober pose over a "fake" smile.  

(In fact, at another time, when I was taking a picture and I said "smile!",  Kiaruuh was standing by me and he said in a whisper, "It is not necessary, sister.")  But for a lot of photos, I just kept saying it, and I'm glad that we got some smiles because of it. :)

So this particular morning, just for fun, I decided to take a little bit of video just before the picture, to show how lively and happy they are before the photo (and always), and then note how they settle into a completely new, serious look at the very end, just getting ready for the picture. 

Posing

Some candid camera before the above photo:

 Before deciding too quickly what people are like, judging by photos, remember that others have a different culture in front of the lens, a thing that is always important to note when seeing photos of people in Kenya and other parts of the world.

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Later in the morning, things were a little bit slow as we waited for lunch to be ready, so I took a video while the Mom fed the chickens.  (We're all a little tired from staying up late the night before).





It rained heavily for a couple of hours, and when the rain let up, it was apparent that we had some free time on our hands, so I asked if I could teach the women how to make bread over their coals. 

I love to bake, and I had looked forward to this moment for a long time.  I had thought that if I ever came to Kenya, I would definitely like to teach the women how to make bread.  I now that the chance, and packed some yeast all the way from Houston just for this! 

I mixed up a batch of white bread from some flour that we got from the market, showing the women how to measure and knead, and let it rise in the bowl for a while.  While we waited, Kiaruuh's mother spoke to her daughter in law (Kilonzi's wife), and they suddenly went into the house and returned with three colorful bags.  The mother told Kiaruuh to tell me that they would like to give them to us.  They asked for pictures while they presented and described.

  

  

They had made these beautiful bags by hand, each bag taking weeks to complete.  These were unfinished produce bags.  The mother said that we should get a leather worker to put a leather finish along the tops of the bags, with a long leather handle strap.  Then, she said, when you are at market, you put the bananas in, and the bag goes on your back, with the long strap looped upon your forehead, so that you can carry the load in the bag, leaving your hands free for something else.

                     

Examples of their own bags that have the leather finish on them. 

I looked at the precious bags, and they had the most consistent, immaculate stitches, which together worked into a beautiful pattern, obvious that care and planning had gone into the work.  Seeing these careful stitches was what gave the bags priceless value.  But an unknowing person, in a hurry, or not looking closely, would not notice to appreciate the bags above any other manufactured wool bag.  Taking time is what makes the beauty of the handiwork come to light.

I have thought on this.  In our busy lives, we so easily speed a thin line atop the surface of the many opportunities that come into our days.  If we aren't careful, we may be so consumed in the things that we are enjoying or worrying about, quick to chase the next rainbow or meet the next deadline, completely missing the divine hand that is live at work before us. 

But if we will pause, just take a moment to slow down and look more carefully, believing that there is more meaning to this existence, we may be amazed to see that there are intentional patterns, and apparent designs.  A great masterpiece is at work, breathing testimony that it has been touched countless times by a Master Creator--lovingly and tenderly invested in this marvelous, grand composition of the souls of men.  He is involved in each delicate detail, arranging the happenings in our lives for reasons of a pattern of only his own understanding. The twists and the changes are intentional, and as we see them, and appreciate them, and trust in the master and creator, I believe that we can also be involved as instruments, and weave a thread into his beautiful and joyful work.

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After the pictures and presentation of the beautiful produce bags to me and Dallin, the bread was ready to bake.  Because we were working with a tiny coal pot (in photo), the loaf was slightly burned on the bottom, causing a smoky flavor, but it was warm and fresh and otherwise pretty good, and they seemed to really like it. They set some aside for the others when they got home from school and work.

  I left some yeast with the women, and I'm told that since then, they make bread regularly and they have apparently mastered the art! 

 After eating the bread, Kiaruuh and his cousins and sister took Dallin and I for a hike up the green hillsides, where we could look out over a great part of the Kenyan countryside.  Somewhere down there, was where the women had been hiking to get water for the last several months.  Quite a journey.

We also passed by a school where the children all came out and made quite a fuss, giggling and waving.  Kiaruuh told us that we were the first whites that they had ever seen, in fact the first whites who had ever been to that part of the Bush of Kenya.  That explained a lot of things.

 When we came home, (and after my much needed nap), Kiaruuh's father was sitting and ready to continue our talk about God, and he had brought some friends.


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