Deja Vu

When we pulled into Bungoma, a series of very familiar circumstances came rushing to greet me like a puppy who's been left at home for too long. (I know it's a strange analogy, deal with it.) First, we were greeted by Juma, the pastor of Love of Christ Fellowship, and his wife Veronica. I had met them both during my visit two years ago. We enjoyed a very jocular reunion. While I had anticipated meeting them again, I was reminded of their little mud-hut church which couldn't possibly hold 90 people, and knowing that they had been arranging the conference, a hint of suspicion pressed upward upon my left eyebrow just a bit. We hopped into a taxi which took us straight towards the same hotel where we almost stayed during my last visit. "Almost" is a slight exaggeration. We were no nearer to staying in the Hotel Tourist Bungoma than Columbus was to landing in India, because the Hotel Tourist Bungoma was not then ('then' being two years ago, not in 1492 when Columbus sailed the ocean blue) an establishment where any self-respecting tourist would consent to stay. Last time, we took one look at the concrete slab rooms, the unfinished hole-in-the-floor stairwells, the alarming absence of any furnishings save a rather stiff bed, and the even more alarming absence of glass in the wide-open windows, and we turned around and caught a two-hour ride back to Eldoret in the dead of night. Oh yes, it was also raining that night, in such a sideways fashion that it came right in through the wide open windows to the rooms, providing you with a cold shower upon entering the bathroom, whether you wanted a cold shower or not. So you can imagine that that hint of suspicion lifting my eyebrow immediately began tugging quite a bit harder when we turned into the driveway of the Hotel Tourist Bungoma. To my pleasant surprise, we were directed to another part of the establishment - a row of little bungalow apartments. Mike's room was still less than satisfactory, what with a broken half of a bathroom mirror, a disgruntled shower, and the lack of a constant flow of electricity, but all things considered, these accommodations proved to be delightful compared to what experience had led me to expect. Mike and I wound up sharing a room, which is really a preferable arrangement anyway. As we headed up for dinner, I noticed that the sky had turned a strangely familiar shade of indigo. Sure enough, within minutes, the rain was back, and in force comparable to it's appearance last time. At least this time, there would be no two-hour drive back to Eldoret. Resting in the knowledge that most of the unwanted flashbacks would not come about in quite the same unfortunate way, I'm now looking forward to those moments I won't mind reliving. If tomorrow is anything like I remember, it will be a day of challenged perspectives. The Lord will reconfigure my notions of wealth, value, and happiness, and there will be many new faces and new friends. There will be hordes of children dying to have their pictures taken, and a swarm of welcoming brothers and sisters eager to shake hands. If tomorrow is anything like I remember, it'll be a day I won't forget.