Welcome

"Caribou!" they all kept saying to me. "Where?!" I thought. "Caribou!" "No, I haven't seen them. I didn't even know I should be on the lookout. I thought they tended to stick to the tundra." "Caribou-knee!" "Is that like a medical problem?" Perhaps I was a little slow on the uptake, but in my defense, I had spent 2 full days in Kenya without hearing this term, so I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. We were in Limuru, a town about an hour North of Nairobi, visiting Faustin's home church. There, it was explained to me that "Karibu" or "Karibuni" means "Welcome." And what a welcome Ed and I received. Perhaps I hadn't yet heard the term in Nairobi because I wasn't really welcome there. In Limuru, there was no doubt.

We spent yesterday and today in the rural and elevated town of Limuru (returning to Nairobi for lodging), for a Saturday leadership seminar Ed was giving, and Sunday church service. I think we met everyone who attends. I met Pastor Wallace, Pastor Steven, Peter, Tony, Godwin, Moses, Nelson, Benjamin, Paul, Merrick, Josephine, Anne, Anne, Anne, and Annabelle, among many others, whose names I don't remember. (People from not-USA have cool names.) One memorable character, Simon, was a simultaneously distinguished and gauche older gentleman. I asked Simon a question, trying to make conversation, and he responded, with good pronunciation and very little accent, "English does not work for me." Fair enough. Interaction complete. I suspect he spent a great deal of time learning how to say that ("I only know that sentence, and this one explaining it." "Are you serious?" "Que?"). Yet, for several hours, while Ed spoke about leadership, he sat there and took rather detailed notes. It was drizzling on Saturday morning, in the midst of a heavy blanket of cool fog, and they served us chai tea without ceasing. Apparently it's the drink of choice in that part of the country, and I have seen it served nowhere else.

After the leadership seminar, we spent the afternoon with Josephine, who is apparently either aunt or godmother for every youth in Limuru. She took us to a wedding celebration for Annabelle (niece or goddaughter), and the warm welcome continued. There were at least a hundred people there, huddled under dirty party tents waiting for the buffet. As guests, we were invited to serve ourselves first, and to sit in the front row. Faustin spoke to the young couple and then Andrew, a favorite uncle (I'd love to have him as my uncle) got up to lead everyone in a handful of jocular festivities of which I understood nothing. After a while, the groom had to go search for his hidden bride, and when we left an hour or two later, the party continued on as uproariously as it was when we had arrived. It was very appropriate to attend such a bright celebration for the union of a young couple after we had spend much of the previous week digging into the scriptures for wisdom about marriage. It was obvious that both sides of the family share a healthy and joyful love for the Lord, and I've no doubt that this young couple will have a fine support network as they live and grow together.

To welcome someone into your country, church, home, or wedding party is a big deal in Africa. They treat guests very well. Although Limuru has been the warmest reception, back in Rwanda, they weren't shy about it either. In the "restaurant" at our Ruhengeri hotel, there was a sign on one of the tables that simply said, in large, carefully crafted letters, "You're Welcome!" Funny, I hadn't even said "Thank you." (And I was really proud of them for getting the "you're" correct.) Yet, interestingly enough, this is probably a more logical way to make use of the term. In order to have an opportunity to thank someone for something, they have to welcome you first. You can't be grateful for your meal unless you have been invited to sit and eat. You can't be grateful for a ride unless you have been permitted to get in the car. So it is in Africa. You're welcome first. It reminds me (and for this, I'm sure to be berated endlessly) of Enchanted. When Giselle first shows up in New York, she gets pushed around all day until finally, at the end of the day, Derek helps her out after hearing her story and telling her sarcastically, "Welcome to New York." Of course, she takes him seriously, and responds with a big smile, "Thank you!" It works, because no one in the USA even uses the word "welcome" unless they've been thanked for something first. The thing is that here in Africa, they really do go out of their way to make sure you know that you're welcome to be here, even before you have anything to be thankful for. Welcome to Africa. Really.