Okay, so admittedly there aren’t that many yellow bricks in Nairobi, and I doubt there are many horny-backed toads in the mountains of Kenya, but I don’t particularly care.
We left the bustle and lights of Nairobi yesterday morning, and now call a tiny mountain village called Kisienya home. Kisienya sits high up in the mountains of Western Kenya, very close to Uganda, and, at times, within eyesight of Lake Victoria.
It’s a beautiful little village, and there is much I’d love to share about it, but the number one thing worth mentioning is this: there’s no electricity.
Well… let me qualify that.
There is some solar electricity, at least enough that a few lights can be turned on after dark if energy is conserved properly during the day, but there are no electrical outlets. At the moment I’m running on computer battery power, so our posts for the next week or so will be spotty.
The bus ride to Kisienya was much better than the one to Arusha. This bus, at least, had shocks, and looked more like a greyhound bus than an old airport hotel shuttle.
We drove for six hours, past herds of bored-looking zebras, and hundreds if not thousands of cows, donkeys and goats. The drive involved the largest road through the Great Rift Valley. It’s spectacularly beautiful, and I found myself feeling a healthy sense of insignificance looking out the window at the very land on which humankind first stood upright.
The Rift Valley is filled with tea plantations, and scattered through the fields of tea are women hunched over, picking tea leaves with remarkable speed and dexterity. On their backs are large bags of picked tea leaves, and slung around many of their fronts are babies. Imagine working like that.
We passed numerous little towns, many of which consisted of a few homes made from bamboo sticks, mud and old pieces of fabric. In on instance, I saw what was once a stone structure the size of the average Starbucks store. The structure looked like it had been mostly demolished: it had no roof, no doors, and only holes in the walls to serve as windows. Yet nearly 50-75 people stood inside, singing.
It took a moment to realize that a church service was taking place.
Due to not much more than blind luck, we managed to find our stop – a town called Majengo. It was there that we met Brenda Mugofwa, our hostess for the duration of our stay. Brenda is a friend of Mercy’s, and while she was raised not far from Kisienya she studied and lived in the States for nearly ten years.
Brenda helped us collect our bags from the underside of the bus, and then drove us to her family’s home (our home during our stay). We passed many mud huts on the way to her house, and wondered if our week would be spent in similar conditions. When we arrived at her family’s home, however, we were pleasantly surprised. The Mugofwas have a wonderful home – a farm, really – and one of the nicest in the area.
Brenda’s mother, Victoria, one of the kindest and loving women I’ve ever met, ran out to greet us. We were welcomed into her home with amazing warmth and kindness.
Victoria and her husband, Michael, told us later that evening about how they came to live in this house. In the early 90’s they had 25 acres in a neighboring village, but in the middle of the night after a controversial election, members of another tribe, angry with the election results, came to the property and burned everything they had. The entire family – Victoria, Michael and their seven children – managed to escape with only the clothes on their backs. They hid behind bushes until the violence subsided, and then made their way to what became a sort of refugee camp. They lived in that camp until they could rebuild. And rebuild they did! They built a new home – a better home, and were very proud of it. But then, about 9-10 years ago, an angry mob appeared and burned their home again. Left with nothing a second time, the Mugofwas still managed to rebuild. And today we are so thankful to be staying in what they built. Their seven children have grown, but the Mugofwas have taken in children from the area that needed homes. There are currently four children between the ages of about 12 and 18 living here, and the Mugofwas love them like their own children.
Victoria and Michael run a grade school 5 km from their home – a school they started themselves called “Light and Salt,” and other time is spent managing their farm. They own several cows, many chickens, goats, turkeys and geese, and they even have banana trees growing in the back.
At the end of each day, the family gathers in the living room (by candlelight) to sit, talk, pray, sing, read from the bible, and give thanks for all they have.
What a wonderful way to end a day.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s much better than watching television.
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