Dinner at Charles'

I remember the first or second day I was in Kenya- William was driving us all over so we could meet our different ministry partners and know our way around. As we drove through old Kijabe town he stopped at the sight of a familiar face: Charles. He introduced us and I half-heartedly greeted him because honestly I had met so many people that day, I was so overwhelmed, so tired and I did not realize the significance of these relationships. I don’t know if I could have even pointed him out in a crowd the next day.

Well, Charles has become one of my favorite Kenyan people. He has been one our faithful matatu (van) drivers and so we see him nearly every day. Sweet, quiet and shy guy that at first I was not so sure about…but day by day I got to know him and he became a charming, gentle, caring man who loved the Lord and found so much joy in each day. A dear friendship was born and I really feel like he has taken me in as a daughter. We joke together, he cares for us, and I honestly trust him with my life. He knows his car and the roads so well, as well as having connections to everyone we pass- so I am confident that any situation we might get in, Charles would see us through. Charles speaks encouragement into our ministry and is gracious and caring to every team that passes through his car. I cannot speak highly enough of this guy, and honestly he might be the hardest goodbye, because we spend hours upon hours a week together.

We’ve passed his children on the roads here and there, or when we have him join us for dinner in Nairobi he always pulls out the family photos, but it was time to meet the fam. Some way or another we got ourselves invited over for dinner tonight, and having just returning home I don’t know what is fuller right now: my heart or my stomach.

How should I put this…walking into Charles’ felt like stepping into a crazy family reunion where they take you in as their own. Almost immediately after taking a seat when we arrived he told us that the woman wanted help in the kitchen so two other girls and I ventured into a small dark room. We were greeted by Charles’ wife as well as his sister-in-law, Rose. We washed our hands (i.e. pouring filtered water over them) and they put us to work chopping lettuce, crying over onions and washing dishes. Before the sun set we snuck out of the kitchen so that we could see Charles’ land. His house is next to his fathers, who, come to find out, is one of the richest men in Kijabe town. Their house is beautiful and large (for a Kenyan home). I felt like I walked into a petting zoo as Charles showed us his 17 pigs, dozen cows, 1 giant bull, cages of rabbits, goats, 500 chickens (they supply eggs for the hospital in Kijabe!) and large, large chamba (garden). I.was.blown.away. His little boys were trailing behind us, and I chased little Joseph back through the corn fields, following the untamed giggles.

Back to the kitchen we went, and aunties started arriving and joining us. They were a hoot. Always laughing and joking while working hard. I learned the back breaking (yet worthwhile) job of rolling chipati (like a thick, fried tortilla) and the woman were so gracious in my miss-shaped products. Rose began rolling dough for the samosas (thin chipati dough, filled with spiced meat, folded into a triangle that is then deep fried), Aunties fried potatoes, stirred meat and finished up the chipati. Ruth (Charles’ oldest, 12 yr old) joined me by my side as I slowly learned the precise folding and “gluing” techniques of the samosas. Whenever I would mess up I would just say “help!!” and hand it to her and she would careful fix my mess. Auntie Perris would grade me on my samosa before it went into be fried, and I never managed to get a 100% but she was gracious anyways. Ruth and I sang little songs I have picked up here, and laughed together as I showered her in compliments and would continually mess up- all the while tossing around any Swahili word I knew. I took a break and held little Jane (3 ½ yr old) and watched the other team members play with the boys who had too much energy for their own good. (I should note that we arrived at 6pm, and did not eat until 9pm).

Dinner finally came and we sat around the feast we had made. I knew I would not get much down me because the woman kept handing us food in the kitchen to test before dinner even started. It was delicious but by the time I worked my way through the plate I was stuffed. After dinner we sat around and made conversation in between their own language jabbering. Before we left, in true Kenyan style, we circled for a prayer. Auntie Ida stood beside me so near as I held her hand and Jack prayed over this family that took us in so well. He lifted up Charles, and thanked the Lord for was a faithful and caring friend and worker he was and my heart sank with the realization of the looming goodbye but was full of gratitude. As we were leaving I already wanted to go back.

When we were walking through the gardens earlier that day, Charles told me that if I wanted to come back I could stay with them and he would give me a small garden to keep. I know in Kenyan ways, he would be honest to his words, but I also know that it was a light hearted, passing comment. But remember when I wrote of how Kenya makes me dream? In those moments, walking through corn and trees, I dreamed of coming back to this place. I dreamed of a simpler life, and living with a family that has the biggest heart. I dreamed of watching Jane and Joseph play and grow, William studying hard and Ruth teaching me how to cook even more. And I know these are all crazy dreams, but I wonder if maybe even just for a few days I could adopt a different life and get a whole new perspective. I’m ready (I think) to take the next step, and dive deeper into this culture.

And honestly, today had been a pretty rough day and I was thinking about how ready I was to leave, but then I had a night like this and Kenya took a little more of my heart. Oh Kenya.