The day before we flew out of Nairobi, Hannah and I went to
try to find some new running shoes for her.
Her old ones were “kind of” worn out, if you consider “kinda worn out”
to mean ALL the tread on the bottom was gone, and she had superglued the sole
together 4 times in the last few months!
ANYWAY, oddly enough, in the land of disparity that is
Nairobi, we actually stumbled across a Nike Sporting Goods store, complete with
expensive tennis outfits, bicycle helmets, knee braces, those cool tracking devices that
tell you how far you’ve run, etc. It was
surreal to see such a store and to be reminded once again that many Kenyans are
extremely wealthy and shop at stores like this all the time, even while most of
their country goes without basic necessities every day.
We found a pair of shoes that fit – a challenge, even in the
US, as she has an unusual size. After
we made our purchase, the guilt set in.
“Mom, do you realize how many dinners we could have bought for the price
of those running shoes? I feel so guilty for buying those shoes.”
I tried to remind her that she runs on hard, rocky roads, 4-6 miles every single day, and that for her legs’ health, she truly needed good
running shoes. Didn’t work. She still felt guilty.
I understand. We deal with this kind of thing
all the time. At home, we wouldn’t feel
such guilt while buying the exact same shoe – but being here, and seeing what
we see, it has changed our perspective.
Speaking of a perspective change......
While driving back to the mission guest house, we suddenly
came across a woman lying in the busy street. Lying in the street!
Our driver had to swerve to miss her – she had foamy saliva coming down
her cheek from out of her open mouth. I
thought she was dead. A crowd of people
were standing around her, unsure what to do, gaping at her with looks of
horror on their faces. These are people
who see a LOT every day, so seeing their shocked faces made me jump to the
conclusion that she must have just been hit by a car right in front of
them.
I was wrong.
The lady, P, is an epileptic, and she had just had a
seizure in the road, while carrying her
6 month old baby boy, and had dropped him on his head, and had hit her
head – hard – when she collapsed.
No cars had hit her. As busy as the roads were, that was a miracle. And her husband had just dragged her out of
the way of traffic as I was jumping out of my car to see what was the matter.
The husband, T, immediately answered my “What happened?”
by explaining about his wife’s condition and begging me to help them by taking
them to the Nairobi Hospital, as many cars had already passed and refused to
stop and help. I was a little
apprehensive that perhaps this was all a trick – crime runs rampant in downtown
Nairobi, and I know I can be quite gullible and unable to see through these
kinds of scams. I asked the driver what
he thought – did he think they were bandits pulling a stunt? The driver assured me that no, he was pretty
sure this was all for real, so I told the panicked husband that yes, we would drive
her to the hospital.
I took the baby, the husband picked up his unconscious wife,
and as the 6 of us crammed in the small, four seater car, I had a
random thought about ever doing this in America (like, it would never happen!)
and breathed a quick prayer of thanks that at least we wouldn’t be arrested for
not having the baby in a car seat (no car seat laws here that I know of!).
Nairobi traffic is a nightmare. Think LA at rush hour, but add in pot-holes the same size as your car – well, almost, and just a total
randomness to the entire traffic pattern.
So, getting to the hospital, which just happened to be on the other side
of Nairobi, took an hour and a half – and it WASN’T rush hour. Geez Louise!
Along the way, T told me a little about his life. He was raised by a single mom and has been a
“serious Christian” as long as he can remember. His mama was an active member of an Anglican church, and he went with her to church since he was born. He quoted so many scriptures to me and to himself, to comfort himself and remind us that God was taking care of his wife, all the way to the
hospital. He is epileptic as well as
his wife; in fact, they met at the hospital when both were in treatment of some
kind. Their six month old baby boy was
born 2 months premature but has had no long term health problems, for which the
proud daddy is very thankful.
The man blamed himself for his wife’s seizure, because she
had run out of her medicine two weeks ago, after he was arrested and put in
jail.
He told me, “I was arrested for
hoking. You see, I am a hoker.”
I guess my eyes widened, because immediately he and the
driver started laughing and he explained, “No!
Not a hooker! I am a hoker! A
HOKER!”
This made no sense to me, of course, but I was a little relieved to know I hadn’t picked up a male hooker!
The driver explained, while laughing so hard that tears were running down his face, that a “hoker” is someone who
sells goods on the side of the road, walking up to cars at lights and trying to
get drivers and passengers to buy their wares. These "hokers" are everywhere, I never would have guessed it was against the law! Evidently, though, it is illegal in Kenya. However, if a hoker has enough money to bribe the
police, he will not be arrested.
This particular day, my new friend was broke, and couldn’t
pay the bribe, so he went to jail. He
was going to refill his wife’s medicine that night with the money he earned
while hoking. She didn’t even know where
he went, but finally found out through the African grape vine that he was in
jail. She borrowed money to get him out
of prison, but they still didn’t have money for her medicine. Also, the police had confiscated his phone
and all his wares. He would have to pay
3,000 KES to get them back – about
$36. Might not sound like much,
but when you earn about .50 to $1 a day…..that’s a lot of cash.
So, his wife went without her medicine, which led to the
seizure in the road, which led to her dropping her baby and injuring herself
(big lump on the back of her head), which led to us seeing them in their situation, which led to him being in my car and telling me his life story while en route to the hospital.
I guess I can’t really explain how fond I became of this
little family on our drive to the hospital.
Complete strangers, from two completely different worlds, somehow became
friends in that hour and a half.
They continually kept telling me over and over how grateful
they were that I stopped and took them to the hospital. But the one who received the true blessing
that day was me. I was so blessed to see
two people so grateful for life, so grateful for each other and their baby, so
grateful to God for all the blessings he gave them, so, so in LOVE with their
Savior, when, by Western standards, they had nothing and would consider
themselves to have earned the right to whine about their lives. (After the wife eventually regained her
consciousness and got over the shock of being in a car with some strange, white
lady who was holding her baby, I discovered that she was just like her husband
– cheerful, grateful, kind, happy, content.
Talk about humbling.)
The next day, on our way to the airport to leave Kenya, we were able to meet up with them for a brief moment just a little while after she was released from the hospital, just to see how they were doing and to say goodbye. Here's a picture of that meeting.
I thank God for the chance to be a small part of helping my
brother and sister that day in Kenya. J
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