Africa - Day#5 (Three Emotions-6-7-17)

Running In Africa - Red Dirt Smeared On My Legs

Wednesday, June 7^th, 2017

            Today I’ll mix it up and not necessarily write on every detail of the day.  I’ve been doing that in my own personal, daily journal.  I call this one my “blog journal,” and it is from here that I will type up my writings to then post into my blog.  
            A donkey in the direction of the Black Hill’s base just did a scream/bray.  It’s not the kind of thing you hear in South Beloit, Illinois.  A rooster in a nearby boma to the west crows, which sets off one of our roosters (now in their new coop and set up on the roof of the outhouse for the night, to keep them up off the ground and away from predators).  Birds of unknown varieties call, scream, or screech.

            When I think through yesterday I had three distinct times when I really was moved by emotions.  These emotions seemed to come to the surface unexpectedly from different triggers.  They were raw and at some point I need to sit, beyond my journaling, sleep, or personal thoughts to sift through them. 

            First, I ran in Africa.  I did three laps back and forth over a red soiled, dusty two track.  I ran each time up past John’s boma dwelling and back, waving each time at someone different that stood outside the thorny walled entrance.  Until we finish working through the access for the path/two track into Kijani, Brian felt like that was as far as I should run for each “lap.”  I felt good and enjoyed the freedom of movement; the feel of each step in the dirt, as I left prints with those of other people or animals.  The sounds of the birds and the sight of them (one in particular was a brilliant indigo blue), were intriguing.  The air in my lungs at this higher altitude, which is about 4,000 feet more than back at home, are the things that I remember most from this “first run” in Africa.  Todd took some pictures of me as I returned, and I washed off by taking a splash bath using a basin before breakfast.  Even after cleaning up, I could hardly believe that I was actually here in Kenya, doing the things that I love to do.

Home Stretch In A Beautiful, Raw Setting

            Secondly, after breakfast I presented a devotional lesson I had prepared for the Team.  I shared an email I had received from my Uncle (with his prior blessing).  It was on his perspective from working in less developed areas with the Peace Corp.  I wanted to be respectful of him, our purpose here with our group, and then Kijani Farm’s mission.  It led to a good discussion and reflection for our group.  Brian Dellamater appreciated it, and talked about how they want Kijani to be different than some missions that are in the guise of helping, but sometimes ram ideas of their own down the throats of the people they are working with.  Kijani is assisting, as they walk alongside the Maasai in the surrounding community.  Learning is happening through a constant ebb and flow.  I then read from John Eldredge’s book, Beautiful Outlaw, about the playfulness of God.  It’s a refreshing perspective of the way Jesus interacts, and has relationship with his disciples.  I ended by reading verses from the Bible (John 10:1-10 and 1:43).  Jesus tells a story of a shepherd.  He himself led in ways contrary to the day, when he asked his disciples to join him.  Rabbis at the time typically had people ask them if they could follow and learn.  Jesus mixed it up a bit.  I have been reminded of Jesus’ leadership as I watch the young Maasai boys (Jospa, Amos, and Joseph), and their herds of cows.  If I walk by, the cows move out of the way and watch me out of the corner of their eye as they browse and graze.  Yet, when the boys whistle softly in a special little tune, the cows respond and follow.  It’s those thoughts, and the desire to have that kind of personal relationship with God, that I could hardly sing as Kristin played her guitar and the song “Good Father.”  My eyes dripped and my throat was too tight.  I thanked my Father God for his bountiful blessings on so many levels.

Paul, John, And I working On A Chicken Coop - Mid Morning

Moving The Roosters From The Out House/Shower To Their New Coop

            Lastly, I spent the afternoon in preparation for dinner.  We had the chickens in camp for a reason.  To make our traditional tin foil dinners, a mainstay of any camping trip, it required butchering.  As I’ve mentioned before, I grew up on a small farm.  Death often was a part of life; sometimes by accident and sometimes on purpose.  Early on, my parents taught my sisters and me to respect the process.  Whether on the farm with the animals, on the water fishing, or in the woods hunting, killing was to be quick and only for a reason.  I remember in my teens I butchered six chickens in a day; something often lost in our present generation of prepared food.  That task, on that day long ago, was exhausting but necessary.  Some of the animals we had on our farm became pets, some became food.  On this day in Africa, I butchered two chickens.  I tried to express my feelings before doing it in front of a group of curious onlookers.  Two of the onlookers were Maasai men, John and Lanku, who raise cattle and goats to butcher for food as part of their everyday life.  They wanted to see the whole process as they typically don’t eat birds.

Lanku, Me, John, Patty, And Kristin Packaging The Foil Dinners

            I’ll admit that although the death blow was quick, I really struggled through the butchering.  It’s been almost thirty years since the last time I’ve processed a chicken, and that, with an audience.  While preparing the second bird, however, I realized that the first one was difficult because it was old and tough.  The second rooster was easy in comparison.  As I cleaned the meat, the rest of the Team chopped potatoes, carrots, onions, and tomatoes.  With the help of the two Maasai men, the three of us wrapped it all in three layers of foil.  John expressed to me that he liked to see how we prepared food compared to the goat they had cooked on stakes next to the fire.  We cooked the meal 13 minutes per side over hot coals that Todd and Noah had prepared.  We took a break only to look for the wart hog that squealed just outside of the boma somewhere.  Although admittedly the old bird’s meat was tough, the food overall tasted awesome, and everyone seemed to appreciate it.  Preparing meals is something I do like to do.  For some reason, gearing up to begin the process of butchering the roosters itself was emotional.  It conjured up memories of my childhood while in the midst of wild rawness.  Preparing food in the bush requires more than pulling something out of the refrigerator or throwing it into a stove or microwave; it requires you to roll your sleeves up and apply a little elbow grease so to speak.  To eat a meal, the entire process simply takes time and effort.  It was intense combining the expectations that I had, with those that the Team may, or may not, have had.  My prayer was that it would all work out in the end, and fortunately it did.

The Foil Dinners Packed With Veggies And Chicken Meat

John, Me, Lanku, And Patty As We Wait For The Meal To Cook

            Today I ran, felt a communion with God, and butchered chickens.  Each of these three things was distinctly different.  Each part of the day was intense in its own, specific way.  Each was a small glimpse into how I am wired, and the gifts God has granted me.  These were my emotions on the flip side.

            See you along The Way…

Dinner In The African Bush