In Kabula at last

Saturday, June 1, 2013, around 9:15 a.m.

When last we left dear reader, yours truly was camped out in drizzling London where the people there say things like “Go ahead, my sweet," "move right along my precious” and “courageous choice, sir” when selecting the beef over the chicken.

I’m happy to report that as of this writing and many miles later, I sit in a wicker chair in the home of Bishop and Betty Lubanga on a warm, sunny morning in Kabula, Kenya. Children from the primary school are playing and shouting during recess. A rooster as big as a peacock started off the day, anticipating the sunrise by at least an hour.

The trip from there to here was, as it were, long, as well it should be. This is a far place.

Downtown Nairobi looks very much like lower Manhattan with its mix of crowds and 100 pound bags of potatoes and corn being delivered and traffic and dust and generally a whole bevy of folks, everyone in a hurry. 

The bus ride from Nairobi to Bungoma was an adventure all of its own.

The roads are narrow and the drivers brave as trucks and busses and bikes and even a witch or two on a broom vie for traffic space, honors for arriving first and a general sense of having been born for, but passed over by, alas, the Indy 500.

And yet, the Kenyan countryside is a marvelous blend of valleys and farms and lakes and rivers. Here and there wild stands of zebra look as mellow as farm cows, and then the gazelles a short distance off....It is Africa!

The tiny villages dot the landscape, most looking beyond desperately poor.

Wood that had lost its color decades ago holds together row after row of this butcher shop (featuring today’s just slaughtered goat) the cell phone shack, the concrete store and an always ubiquitous Coca Cola stand.....Far away from everything? Never too far for a Coke!

We arrived after nearly 9 hours of bussing purgatory in Bungoma, very near the Ugandan border (just 30 minutes up ahead, I’m told), in a rain that seemed to redefine rain. You’ve heard of cats and dogs rain and buckets of rain and driving rain – well, how about sky is falling rain? As if the sky was sliced in two by a magnificent carving knife allowing every drop of water stored from the moment of creation until 5 pm yesterday afternoon to pay a visit not simply to the earth, but to the 100 sq yards surrounding the wayfarers from Nairobi; 25 Nigerians and one Pole. (Funny how Joyce, the program director kind enough to meet me, had no trouble figuring out which bus rider was her charge!)

After quiet introductions, a welcome shower and a long night’s sleep, today begins the month-long journey in this place I have visited by photo, now seeing in the flesh... The Bishop is soft spoken, kind, with a great passion for the poor he serves. His wife, mama Betty is simply a sweetheart who quietly works away, contributing from time to time to the conversation, but always working away. They look like a couple in their early 40’s: who would guess they have 9 children and 4 grandchildren!

A note to my children: I love and miss you, and btw, the kids here go to school 7 days a week.....hmmmmm, now there’s and idea worth importing....

A note to my wife: I love you and miss you!

All for now....