260/365

260/365, originally uploaded by britrosewhite.

Here is some African dirt. It's not dry like it looks. Not today, anyway. Not after the downpours yesterday.

This morning we got up at 6:15 AM, which would have been easier had I not been wide awake from 2-3:30 AM. That keeps happening and I keep staying up longer. I guess it'd be a good time to talk to people in the States but the problem is, I've got the top bunk. And it squeaks. So I just lay there and try to convince myself the hall light pouring in is not the sun and I should indeed be asleep. I've purposely tried to wear myself out today so I'm thinking I'll sleep well tonight.

Anyway, we were out the door by 6:30. Pastor Chola driving, Amy, Duncan, Nzingo, and Shiro piled in the back of his small car, me in the front with Monje in my lap. We dropped them at school then drove out to CMM where I have now been for going on 13 hours. Good thing I love this place.

We decided to help in the kitchen today and we sorta did that. Just as I had set down to chop peppers, my "boss" for the day, Richie, motioned for me to climb in his truck. So I did. And we went to the chemist, the grocery store, and the outdoor market. I couldn't help but think of how funny it was to be sitting in a truck by myself, windows down, in the middle of the hustle of Rongai. Where four years ago I was told was a red-alert-dangerous place. Seems I'm becoming more Kenyan every day. My favorite part was walking through the market for muchungwas - oranges - and having the vendor cut into one so we could make sure they were juicy enough. Me, the only white person visible in a sea of people, taste testing oranges. Juice dripping all over my face and clothes as I side-stepped donkeys and mud.

We actually ended up serving muzungus today. A group that arrived from the States (and one from Canada) at 1 AM last night and are staying at CMM for a week. It was strange to serve them. Different than serving the 350 African men and women here for the conference who consider this place the Hilton. Instead serving a group of well-meaning white people who aren't quite sure they can trust the same food that is a feast to others. But they were nice and one even stopped Amy and I as we were clearing dishes to share a picture the he felt God had given him for us.

The dirt explains another favorite part of my day. We were walking the grounds with Richie when he stopped, bent down to the earth, held up a fist and said, "Leopard." And then he showed us the tracks. And then I became Kate Austen because I was tracking a freakin' wild animal! It wasn't as easy as they make it look on Lost. A leopard! And what's more, the tracks are fresh. From last night. The ground was soft enough after the rains to pick them up. Richie told us that a leopard lived in the trees by the offices of the center for two days - just sat there. I, for one, am enamored by the idea of such danger walking all over this safe haven. It gets my blood pumping. Richie just shrugged it off, says it's no big deal. But I just love it.

So now we're about to go serve dinner to the Masai men and women. Then we'll eat, then we'll go home, then we'll sleep. Which is why I'm blogging now. I have every intention of walking right into that squeaky, high bed of mind and cherishing every moment of rest!