Life in Kenya

Yesterday I was faced with a small dilema.

I was at Mercy Home. And it was getting late. And I had to walk up to Toll to catch a matatu (about 1 mile.) And it was POURING rain.

What to do? Wait out the rain? It might never stop. So I thought to myself, 'I'm from Canada, I can handle a little rain.' The girls were appalled that I was going to walk in such weather, but I set out anyway.

I had a nice walk up to Toll, and the rain slowed down to just cats instead of cats and dogs. (One of the boys at Mercy Home said that it was 'raining cats' one day, and I thought it was hilarious.) One of the day scholars was walking home too, so I had an escort. I nearly fell so many times while we were walking, because the mud gets so slippery here. After slipping and sliding my way up to the top, I flagged down a matatu (which had incredible timing!) and climbed aboard.
Usually the conductors on the matatus are slightly sour and stressed out. They are really intense and often fight over passengers, or try and charge me double because I'm white. This time though, I got a very pleasant one. (I think that he was a little drunk.) His favourite song came on on the radio, and he started singing along, and dancing in his seat.
There was just something so great about the simplicity of that moment. I felt so at peace, sitting, absoloutely drenched, beside a dancing conductor as we sped down the road in AFRICA, I felt so at peace. It was one of those times where I just had to turn off my thoughts, and soak everything about the moment into myself.

I leave Kitale on Tuesday, so my last day at Mercy Home is on Monday. The thought of going home is the very meaning of 'bitter sweet.'