As Mtinda and I were driving to town, the conversation turned to our favorite topic: Agnes. Mthinda told me that at one time, she owned 700 acres. I had to ask him to repeat himself. He also told me about several businesses in Kiserian that she owned, which she has sold. He wasn’t sure about the land, but believes she has sold most of it, save for the immediate property around her home, and Josiah’s. It all made me cringe. No, actually, it made me feel kind of numb. It validated everything I think about her, times 10. We talked about my involvement with Nagolie: frustrating, infuriating, joyous and peaceful, all at once. Typically Kenyan, Mtinda said to me that I just need to keep doing what I do, and remember why I do it. Simplistic and perfect advice, right when I needed it.
As Mtinda headed to the slaughterhouse, I declined the invitation to go with him (been there, done that, disgusting and outrageous) and jumped out to go to the ATM and get a few things at the store next door. We headed back to WT, and he dropped me off at the home, with my supplies and a suitcase full of goodies from the US. I thought I would have the home to myself, as everyone was supposed to be at church. But, 10 kids flew out of the home to greet me, so after saying good morning, I headed to the kitchen with Anne and Grace, locked the door behind us, and started separating all the clothes I had brought, into individual piles. Our timing was perfect- right when we were done, the home turned into chaos – everyone wanting to know what we were doing in the kitchen, and what gifts they were about to receive. The girls loved their new matching outfits, and the boys were pretty excited about their new USA tee-shirts.
We spent the afternoon writing pen pal letters, playing UNO, coloring and playing football. Peter, if you are reading this, please bring a golf club and tons of golf balls. There is a perfect area where we can set up a putting drive, and the kids will love it.
I had purchased all the hamburger yesterday, so we had to make the supergetti dinner around 4:00. The kids were so excited. Moses, Kanai and Linet were on duty for Sunday cooking, so they were psyched that I would be in the kitchen with them. Linet got the fire going (she’s 10) and the three of them dumped 10 kgs of hamburg meat into the huge pot, sampling it as it turned brown. They couldn’t believe that all they had to do was add two plastic containers of tomato sauce, cook supergetti and be done with it. As we were finishing up, Peresia walked into the kitchen, which reminded me that he didn’t eat choma – only kuku (chicken). I went to get him 500ksh (about $4.50) so that he could go to Farmers and order kuku choma and chips for himself. All Mturi had to hear was the word chips, and he declared he didn’t like meat, either. As Cary would say, it’s Mturi, so let him have the chips ☺
David, the young man who was hired to oversee the shamba, and I stood around talking about the situation at the home after dinner was cooked. David is 21, mature, kind, loves the children, and is also an orphan. He told me that when Pauline left right after Cary and I did at the end of April, Agnes left him in charge of the home, in addition to his full time responsibilities in the shamba. He was the sole caretaker for two weeks: cooking, cleaning, tending to Njenga, overseeing homework at night and making sure the children had full bellies as they headed to school every morning at 6:00am. Agnes never once offered to help or visit, nor did he get paid. It’s all so wrong, yet life just continues here. He accepted his burden and carried on. All of my frustrations returned to the back burner after I spoke with David. Everything is in proper perspective, once again.
As the afternoon wore on, the sky was building with glorious black clouds. There is nothing quite like a storm in Africa, in my mind. It takes it’s time building up to a threatening level before it gets to where you are. If you are lucky, the rains hit. This afternoon, the rains landed with a force I have never seen. All of us stood outside watching the development of this storm, in awe. It was magnificent! Once we got hit, it lasted for a good 45 minutes. It was getting dark, so I had to call WT to see if someone could come pick me up – no WAY was I walking in this! When Mtinda told me he would come get me, I couldn’t even hear what he said, because the rain hitting the tin roof above us was deafening. Most of the children stood there with their fingers in their ears, to dull the sound. As I turned around to leave, I saw at least 2” of water in the home ... nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. My next project has just landed on my lap. It’s the way it is.
By the way, as I was eating dinner tonight, Agnes finally got back to me and said “You are a great woman with a great sense of humor”. I don’t know where this came from, but I am looking over my shoulder on one hand, and optimistically looking forward on the other. It’s the Kenyan way, after all.
Nawapenda ~
Simmie
No comments:
Post a Comment