Home Again: Back from the Congo!
Oh, what good spirits we are in, knowing we are headed home. When we reach Kenya’s border and have been stamped to return home, Ogutu stands amongst the crowd and exults his return to his native country. He puffs up and says, with conviction and volume , “I’m home. I’m a big man here. No one can displace me or shove me. I rule this land and I rule my life and Kenya is MY country.” He is certainly feeling patriotic.
“Let’s go shopping,” I say to Sister Margaret and Maureen. We all turn back to Uganda and walk across the border (people on foot can move easily between countries, even without a passport) on a fabric-buying mission. I told Sister Margaret that if I see something I want to buy, I’ll signal her so she can buy it at the local rate, not the mzungu rate. She says she must ask Maureen to do the same for her because when people see a Sister, they automatically think she has lots and lots of the church’s money.
Bavon is looking for a computer bag and Lily spots some shoes and a denim skirt she likes, very fashionable. I buy some gorgeous Royal Wax material, authentic African fabric of the highest quality. Sister tells me the fabric I bought at 450 shillings (about $5 USD for 5 yards) would cost at least 1300 shillings in Kisumu. We’re all feeling quite luxurious with our time today since we’re only a two hour drive from Kisumu.
After shopping, we pass into Kenya and Julius directs us to his favorite restaurant. We’re in Busia, a city which straddles the Kenya-Uganda border. We eat fish or stewed chicken and chug Kubwa (large) Cokes in glass bottles. We’re nearly home, our bellies are full and we’ve all bought some goodies we’ll treasure and give as gifts. Buying fabric and a pair of Sandals at the border (total $24) is the only money I’ve spent on this six-day tour.
Later, when we come over a rise and see Kisumu spread out along the lake's shore, everyone says, "Ahhhhh."
We arrive at TICH at 5pm and are pulled into the director’s office, where everyone gathers and welcomes us back with hugs and kisses and a prayer. Dr. Ariga says, “Did you hear about the show, Cindi?”
"No," I say.
Dr. Ariga says, “TICH won First Place for our exhibit.”
“What?!! You’ve got to be kidding!” and all of a sudden my exhaustion flees and I’m holding Dr. Ariga’s hands and bouncing up and down and grinning like an idiot. He takes me to see the trophy and then I photograph the director with the trophy, still not believing our exhibit won when I doubted we’d even place. We beat out several other institutes, including Maseno University, a well-respected school that’s been around for nearly 100 years, the place where most of Western Kenya’s contemporary leaders were educated. It’s just too much to take in, returning home safely, knowing how much everyone (in Kisumu and the US!) prayed for us and thought about us and finding out a month of hard work has won us the show prize we coveted.
Plus, at the end of our trip, the night we stayed in Kampala, we all agreed we had each done things along the way we should probably apologize for. I thought about my screaming fit at the gas station. Because we each had things we could apologize for, very human things we’d said and done, we decided none us would apologize. Instead, we’d simply forgive each other and move on with our friendships and our missions. We’d move on unimpeded.
So after a long and fruitful journey, we simply forgive each. And we move on. Unimpeded.
“Let’s go shopping,” I say to Sister Margaret and Maureen. We all turn back to Uganda and walk across the border (people on foot can move easily between countries, even without a passport) on a fabric-buying mission. I told Sister Margaret that if I see something I want to buy, I’ll signal her so she can buy it at the local rate, not the mzungu rate. She says she must ask Maureen to do the same for her because when people see a Sister, they automatically think she has lots and lots of the church’s money.
Bavon is looking for a computer bag and Lily spots some shoes and a denim skirt she likes, very fashionable. I buy some gorgeous Royal Wax material, authentic African fabric of the highest quality. Sister tells me the fabric I bought at 450 shillings (about $5 USD for 5 yards) would cost at least 1300 shillings in Kisumu. We’re all feeling quite luxurious with our time today since we’re only a two hour drive from Kisumu.
After shopping, we pass into Kenya and Julius directs us to his favorite restaurant. We’re in Busia, a city which straddles the Kenya-Uganda border. We eat fish or stewed chicken and chug Kubwa (large) Cokes in glass bottles. We’re nearly home, our bellies are full and we’ve all bought some goodies we’ll treasure and give as gifts. Buying fabric and a pair of Sandals at the border (total $24) is the only money I’ve spent on this six-day tour.
Later, when we come over a rise and see Kisumu spread out along the lake's shore, everyone says, "Ahhhhh."
We arrive at TICH at 5pm and are pulled into the director’s office, where everyone gathers and welcomes us back with hugs and kisses and a prayer. Dr. Ariga says, “Did you hear about the show, Cindi?”
"No," I say.
Dr. Ariga says, “TICH won First Place for our exhibit.”
“What?!! You’ve got to be kidding!” and all of a sudden my exhaustion flees and I’m holding Dr. Ariga’s hands and bouncing up and down and grinning like an idiot. He takes me to see the trophy and then I photograph the director with the trophy, still not believing our exhibit won when I doubted we’d even place. We beat out several other institutes, including Maseno University, a well-respected school that’s been around for nearly 100 years, the place where most of Western Kenya’s contemporary leaders were educated. It’s just too much to take in, returning home safely, knowing how much everyone (in Kisumu and the US!) prayed for us and thought about us and finding out a month of hard work has won us the show prize we coveted.
Plus, at the end of our trip, the night we stayed in Kampala, we all agreed we had each done things along the way we should probably apologize for. I thought about my screaming fit at the gas station. Because we each had things we could apologize for, very human things we’d said and done, we decided none us would apologize. Instead, we’d simply forgive each other and move on with our friendships and our missions. We’d move on unimpeded.
So after a long and fruitful journey, we simply forgive each. And we move on. Unimpeded.
posted by Cindi at 10:39 AM
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