News from the Dark Continent!!!

Let me first start off by explaining that the above term was used by the first explorers to Africa and referred to the fact that the majority of said continent (save the coastal regions) remained relatively uncharted for quite a long period of time, and were therefore considered "dark". It should in no way be seen as an offensive term. That being said...

It's official, Matt and I are here and Kenyan! The move has transpired! I use the term "move" very specifically because it has certain implications that a mere trip doesn't carry. The fact of the matter is that Kitale is now our home, and will be for the next two months. This means that the street kids are not only our new friends but they are our new neighbors as well, and that being the reality requires a different approach to ministry, a ground up approach. So, we will be living side by side with, taking up the yoke with, and climbing up the steep and narrow shoulder to shoulder with our new African neighbors, and I couldn't be more excited about anything in the world.

That being said, perhaps I could take a moment to regale you with the hellish tale of Matt and my 48 hour, transatlantic, dirt road trodden, trip to Northwest Kenya:

Upon arriving at John Wayne Airport we were immediately met with what would be the first of many real and superficial inconveniences. Our return flight had not been reissued correctly, leading to our standing in at the ticket counter for close to an hour trying to rebook them. We finished with literally moments to spare, and we then high tailed it to the gate as it was commencing boarding. (Imagine the Airport scene of Home Alone 2: Lost in New York with less talk boy and Run Run Rudolf.) This lead to some rather rushed goodbyes to my tearful parents (out of joy not sadness, at least I hope because if there's one thing I can't stand it's wimpy parents. Of course that last statement was a joke, and I love my parents very very much), as are often experienced at airports, and we sat down for our first leg. We soon found out a rather funny (and uncomfortable) fact about what were to be our seats on every flight we were to take over the next two days. Now, this part perhaps requires a bit of back story. Steve Rutenbar is not a small man. This of course should come to no surprise to any of you who know him. In fact, I think that my size in proportion to his is roughly the same as David compared to Goliath, no joke. And you could imagine my terror when I saw Steve emerge from his dimly lit room at the Kitale house wielding a Masai Machete. Needless to say, I reached for the nearest smooth stone and sling and started twirling. It did nothing. HAVE YOU SEEN TALL/BIG HE IS? (Ok that story was a bit of an exaggeration, we came out of his well lit room with a cane and no fear was actually realized. I made it all up. But as the author of this post I feel fine doing so. There. Conscience cleared.) So, as our flights were booked by the aforementioned Philistine (again a joke, Steve is the perhaps the greatest/ nicest living human), we were reserved the seats with the maximum amounts of leg room, the dreaded EXIT ROWS! So, our seats failed to recline for the OC to Hotlanta flight, and we were frozen out by sub-zero wind blasts through the emergency door from Hotlanta to Paris. I caught a cold, Paris stank, and then we flew to Nairobi. This is the part of the story when the Lord really answered constant and snot-nosed prayer. The flight to Nairobi was empty and Matt and I were afforded entire rows to ourselves and were able to sleep the 9 hour flight away almost entirely, waking refreshed and snot-nosed. Then when the 36 hour air travel ended and after a good night's rest in Nairobi, we set out for the 9 hour bus ride to Kitale. We saw Zebras ten minutes out and the rest of the drive was through truly the most unbelievably beautiful landscape my eyes could ever hope to see. The Lord is truly Good and his creation can't help but point to that fact. Now we are here, spent a day with some ridiculously awesome street kids at a free washing (via Oasis of Hope) and now up early writing this down. Morning tea here I come.

Also, I'm aware that this post is rather long, but I figured I should make up for the near radio silence heard (seen) on this blog for some time now.

Daniel Patrick Spain... over and out.