Kenya

The Bus leaves at 11.... the bus actually leaves at 130....

Zebras Rhinos and Giraffes.....

Fear of bandits....

Unexpected opportunities......

The hike with your 50 pound backpack will take 4 hours...

The hike through deserty terrain with a 50 pound backpack actually takes 9 hours....

Spending 3 days with Samburus in their village...

The Cattle truck we will ride on top of with 30 other people leaves at 3:00... or 7:30...

The trip will take 9 hours.... + three flat tires and a broken differential, with a mechanic who will drive for an hour to come laugh at then drive all the way back to the nearest town while we sleep on the side of the road listening to hyena's.....

The cattle truck journey actually takes 18 hours...

Unexpected connections...

Delivering water to a Village of Turkana people suffering from a year long draught

Photos.... LOTS of photos....

Lake Turkana...

Swimming without being eaten by a crocodile....

Knowing that all the "little coincidences" are answers to prayer......

Not seeing bandits....

Dustiest "road" back to "civilization "ever.... almost there...

God is GOOD

During part of my time in Kenya I jokingly said to Amy...

"We should go up North to Lake Turkana and take photos of the tribes there..."

I was joking because according to some sources Northen Kenya is generally considered a lawless place. Bandits hijack cars and transports, tribes steal each others cattle and revenge killings and violence among the tribespeople are common. Not to mention drinking fresh cow blood was a main part of these tribes diets. A conversation along these lines occured:

Amy "Yeah, lets do it we can take public transport and it will be cheap"

Me: "I was mostly joking, there are robbers and bandits and Matatus even go that far North?"

Amy: "It'll be fine, yeah they go that far North, I'll research it tomorrow.

Me: "But there are bandits"

Amy: "It'll be fine, Its a good plan!"

About a week later Amy, our friend Robin from the orphanage, and myself were packed with 25 kenyans in a small van and our huge bags on our way North....

As we headed North we prayed for opportunities, as well as travel protection, God was happy to give plenty of both .

The Maralal area presented itself with a multitude of opportunities, from being able to provide some basic first aid to a boy not 5 years old who had been forcibly cirucumsized by his 7 year old brother(he had been sitting in the street crying through the night and through the day when we came across him) to telling a suicidal cripple that God loves him deeply and has purpose for his life, to developing relationships with some of the tribal groups in the area.

We stayed in a Samburu village some hike out of the city for a few days. It was here that we faced both the greatest danger and the greatest sense of peace in the face of fear. On the hike out to the village we passed through some farmland. The drunken farmer and a couple of friends ran out and cut us off. They began yelling at us rather harshley. We explained that we didn't realized we were doing anything wrong and were just passing through the way our guides were leading us. They motioned at us(the white folks) to "just go" but as we walked we couldn't help but look over our shoulders at our guides who were still being yelled at. Soon yelling at our guides turned to pushing our guides to the ground, slapping them and hitting them with sticks. That turned into pushing, pulling, and dragging them back towards there farm and another three or four of their group. At this point we three travelers had increasing reason to be concerned. We were now eight ours into the middle of African wilderness on foot, with no way of knowing really how to get back, and our guides were being dragged away and beaten by an angry group of around 6 tribal men with sticks clubs and machetes.

It was time to pray for peace over the situation. After a few minutes tempers settled and our guides were let go after giving them men the equivalent of about 5 dollars. Apparently the alcoholic farmers claimed we needed to pay them for crossing their land.

Once we finally reached the village learned a lot about both their culture and the culture of the other main tribal group in the area the Turkanas. The Samburu being "native" to that area have a lot of aid programs in place and missionary groups helping them out, but we found that the Turkana who are the "foreigners" in the area have little help. Both in Maralal and further North we were able to interact with some Turkanas and again God brought forth some opportunities to get involved(I'll talk some more about this in the next post).

As we headed further North again we were blessed with not only safety but free transportation. One of our stops turned out to be a ministry that is working with the tribals in the area, and they were able to arrange for us to finish our trek North by hitching a ride with some police officers that were headed that way. This free transportation in the back of a police pickup with a bunch of armed men, was again, a huge answer to prayer.

I was nervous about going to Northern Kenya, I felt like maybe God wanted me to go, but I was definitely scared about all the things that could potentially go wrong. In retrospect i suppose I can take Jesus words to heart a little bit, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? ²⁶ Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?"

A lesson I am continually learning, over and over: Sometimes you've got to stop worrying and just go, God's already there waiting for willing people to show up get done the things that are on His heart.