Into the local village

 

Local businesses

    On Saturday we went into the nearby village, allowing me to see first-hand the Kenyan community.  The village was a densely packed place, with people everywhere.  The road was narrow, bumpy, pothole-infested, and clogged with cars, trucks, motorcycles, buses, carts, sheep, goats, donkeys, dogs, bicycles, and pedestrians.  All along the way were these ramshackle businesses which made or sold everything imaginable. 

     Garbage is everywhere.  Evidently, there is just no place to put it.  The biggest perpetrators:  plastic bags, and plastic water bottles.

     But oh, the dust, dust, dust!  All alongside the road, and all the side "streets" (if you can call them that) were just dirt.  And the wind blew incessantly, stirring up thick clouds of blinding, choking dust.  Whenever a vehicle would pass, those nearby would cover their faces with a scarf till the worst of the dust settled. 

      The buildings where many of the people actually lived were huts: crude structures, with a frame of sticks and walls made of packed mud.  (More about these huts later on our visit to the Maasai Mara village the following week.)

      But in the midst of this hardscrabble existence, there was joy:  Children, running in the street, playing games, just like they do everywhere.  Families together.  Merchants working hard.  Neighbors, visiting and talking.

     And the trees!  Despite the bone-dry conditions and the dust and the constant pounding from people and animals and vehicles, desert trees grew everywhere, tall, green, and lush.

     Kenyans tend to dress well, all the time, unlike the slobs we Americans have become.  Neither men nor women wear shorts.  Men wore long pants, and usually long-sleeved shirts.  Women usually wore dresses.  Joan and I tried not to stick out too much as vacationing Americans.

 

Joan helping out in the kitchen

     Emily, Kate, Joan, and I had been invited for supper at the home of a local Kenyan couple named Thaddeus and Emily (not to be confused with daughter Emily).  Thaddeus had done some consulting work for Emily's business, and they had struck up a friendship.  To get out to Thad's home, we had to wind our way down a maze of pothole-infested unpaved dirt back streets.  Part of the route was an old abandoned airport landing strip.

Kate with Thaddeus' middle daughter

      Thaddeus 's home was pretty crude and tiny by American standards, but nonetheless was structurally solid, clean, and well-organized.  He and wife Emily have three adorable daughters, aged 8 thru 17.  They also had four goats, some chickens, two dogs, and a cat.  There was a security fence around the perimeter of the property. 

Joel Osteen, on Kenyan TV!

      And he had a TV!  Nothing fancy, but not many Kenyans own TVs.  When we walked in, you're not going to believe who was on:  Joel Osteen, televangelist and pastor of the monster-sized Lakewood Church in my home town of Houston!  I found it amazing that people here on the other side of the world tune him in.

      Joan went into the tiny kitchen to help Thad's wife Emily prepare supper.  Joan later reported that Emily was very curious about the United States, and had a strong desire to visit there someday.

Thaddeus and his family

      We had a wonderful evening visiting with Thad and his family.  He and his wife do an amazing job of providing for them in this depressed economy, and ensuring that their girls learn English and all the other necessary life-skills they will need.