Happily, Claire and I have settled easily into Kenyan time. This means that we feel very comfortable doing things like showing up over an hour late to Fellowship, the rousing sing-fest that celebrates the end of another long week here in Nyeri. The kids don’t always sing well, the kids don’t always sing loudly, and some of the kids don’t even sing. However, combine a synthesizer/keyboard that’s always bumping the beats, the chance to dance (apparently something forbidden here except in worship…very Footloose), and it’s amazing to see how many 13 year olds are willing to get up in discarded Christmas gowns to sing hymns. I think back to the struggles my teacher had getting our sixth grade rendition of “Annie” together, and I’m ashamed in the face of all this enthusiasm.
I made this mistake this time of rolling in with a mug of tea in hand. You would think that a single blue mug in the mass of 200 bodies that surrounded us would not draw that much attention. But everyone laughed when I came in, and at the end I had three small children ask why, if I wasn’t crazy, would I possibly bring tea to Fellowship!??
“You say I is the “mwenda wazimu” (crazy person), but Roola (Lara), he is the mwenda wazimu….yeeesssss!!!!!!!!!!”
Love to know I am the crazy one around here, after I spent a good five minutes with one of the children today explaining the concept of a “hero,” only to have him counter and volunteer to draw a ball as his hero. I then listened as the same child spent another ten minutes telling Claire that his picture of a house was what he wanted to grow up to be one day. He had some compelling reasons. He then fell over four times, counting loudly each time he hit the ground.
Claire and I may be on Kenyan time, but I still feel far from Kenyan.
1 comment:
AAAAH! AAAAH! You can't leave me in suspense like this. *WHAT* is with the falling down and counting?!
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