Pros and Cons

I remember getting so excited any time we had a half day at school. I think I enjoyed it even more than vacation days, because it promised all the benefits of enjoying the company of my friends at school with none of the liabilities of school itself, seeing as how the teachers never seemed to take half days seriously either. Today was a half day, but I wasn't so excited about it. Time with the pastors and working alongside Salome and Veronica has been wonderful, and I wanted to stay in school.

That's not to say I didn't have anything to be excited about. My day began with a trip to another market with Salome and Veronica aboard the boda-bodas. This time, our mission was to buy two more cows to give to local women. In contrast to the urban market we visited yesterday, the one we were headed for was to be a big open area in the country where a huge crowd congregates around a series of pens where cattle are bought and sold. Of course, all manner of street vendors would be there as well, selling all kinds of crazy things.

As we approached the market area, the boda-bodas took us off the paved street onto a dirt side road, which, in many places, was more mud than dirt, thanks to the daily rain. Just before reaching our destination, we had to cross a two-foot wide isthmus of semi-dry dirt spanning 30 yards of fresh mud. Veronica's boda-boda went first, and expertly navigated the narrow path through to the other side. My turn was next, and I was prepared for the worst, letting my feet off of the foot supports in case we started to topple. We got about half way across, and it became obvious that my driver wasn't going to make it, so I simply put a foot down and dismounted off the back of the bike. Finally, Salome's rider began to cross. When one is riding side-saddle, there is a harmless way to tip, and a catastrophic way to tip. In one direction, you simply land on your feet. In the other direction, you have absolutely no defense against falling on your butt. In Salome's case, it was the latter. Fortunately, it was a soft landing. Unfortunately, the softness of the landing was due to the particularly spongy concentration of the mud she landed in. Her driver was absolutely no help. He tended to his bike first - well, that is to say he tended to his bike only - and left her to fend for herself. After sending him away with an argument and no fare, Veronica pulled a blanket out of her purse (seriously, the world over, women have an uncanny ability to carry God-knows-what in their abyssal handbags), and Salome wrapped up after she had cleaned off.

The market was absolute chaos. We were met by one of the women who was acting as a liaison for the women's ministry there to select and reserve the cows. How she found us so quickly is beyond me. From somewhere in the vast crowd, a commotion broke out above and beyond the status quo of chaos. It seems a thief had stolen something and was trying to make off with it, pursued by a healthy sized mob of healthy sized men. Veronica explained to me that it happens frequently. After some chat, we left empty handed. I guess we would have left empty handed anyway, because one doesn't exactly embark with a cow in hand, but the point is that we didn't buy any cows. Apparently there weren't any for sale to our liking.

Back at the conference, it was nearly lunch, and things were wrapping up. Faustin was delivering his final remarks, in his typical passionate, yet profound style. When he had finished, he invited a few of the more respected pastors to say a few words in testimony, followed by me, and then Mike. It was my first time speaking in front of a group of Kenyan pastors (what a ridiculous statement - of course it was). It was also my first time speaking to a group with a translator. I've engaged in private conversation with a translator before, but never in front of a group. On the plus side, I think it went well. I don't remember stammering, and I do remember laughter. On the negative side, I don't remember what I said, so the laughter may very well have been in response to my stammering. It had leaked out that I am a worship leader, and of course, as enthusiastically musical and encouragingly welcoming as they are, they all tried to goad me into singing for them. Faustin came to my rescue and announced that I should do that later, so I got away scott free, because it was a half day, and later never came. After Mike's very gracious testimony, it was time for a group photo - something I know I got right. Unfortunately, the conference was over. Fortunately, lives were transformed. Unfortunately, it was our last night in Bungoma. Fortunately, I still have twelve more days in Africa.