Beatrice and Christine in the kitchen, Kenya, 2006
A turning point is a time at which an important change takes place which affects the future of a person or thing. (College English Dictionary).
Fifteen years ago, (this very month!), I was seven days into my first mercy trip to Africa. Truthfully, since day one, I had been marking time till I could return home. I missed my family. I missed my familiar and ordinary routine. I missed my bed. I was struggling to adapt to the eleven hour time difference, the intense heat, and the various odors and sounds that surrounded me each day. My senses were overloaded. My nerves were standing on end. I longed for home—the place were I belonged.
And then, almost imperceptibly, something shifted.
My journal entry for June 13, 2006, reads:
A turning point for me as I finally relaxed and got in the groove of Africa. My anxiety is dissipated and I no longer have an intense longing to go home. While I still miss my family, I am content here and will be sad to leave….
The deaconesses are incredible women who just give and give from a heart infused with the love of Christ. They are quite inspiring.
I am particularly fond of the women in the kitchen–Christine, Margaret and Beatrice. (They are not deaconesses, but women hired to feed about forty of us gathered for a conference on HIV/AIDS and mercy). They lovingly prepare tea and our meals in a very hot, tiny kitchen over wood burning little BBQs. They have a sweetness about them that is infectious. Some of my most joyous times have been connecting with them! I learned how to make chai tea: boil water; add milk and bring to a boil; add tea (finely ground ginger tea), then sugar to taste…
(pretty amazing taste for the girl who at home drank her tea with skim milk, sans sugar).
Beatrice and chai, 2006
June 13, 2006, is when I was welcomed into this circle of love and hospitality and found a home away from home. I snuck away from the conference to go to the kitchen where Beatrice, Margaret, and Christine were getting ready to prepare ugali. (A staple in Kenya—like very thick polenta). A gigantic metal pot of water had been placed over the red hot charcoal and was coming to a boil. Christine poured the bag of ground maize into the boiling water, while petite Beatrice (with a face of an angel), used a paddle to stir to mix the maize with the boiling water. She wasn’t fooling around because this paddle was no small tool—it was big enough to command a canoe on a river.
As the mixture thickened, it got more and more difficult to stir, but Beatrice made it look easy. “Hey, may I give it a try?” I asked. The women were a little surprised that a muzungu (white person) would want to help, but they handed me the paddle and I was poised to stir away. Except when I tried to stir, the paddle barely moved. I tried again and it moved an inch or so. “This is ridiculous.” I thought. “I am in good shape”. I gave it another try, this time bracing my legs and putting my weight into it. I made some small strides and actually got it going—for about a minute when the strength in my arms gave out! My antics delighted the ladies to no end and we all began to laugh. Beatrice graciously took the paddle and her position of ugali queen and finished up the job. This was a turning point. These women welcomed me into their sisterhood of love, encircling me with their joy. Their kitchen became a refuge and a place of delight. It became home.
Beatrice and ugali, 2006
It amazed me what came out of that tiny Kitchen—food made with loving hands and hearts to nourish both body and soul. Margaret certainly had command of that space. For morning tea rose the intoxicating smell of chai and mandazi, a Kenyan doughnut of fried sweet bread. Chipati came to be my favorite bread staple. Rice, sumuwiki (kale or collard greens sautéed with onion, peppers and tomatoes), chicken, fish, potatoes, and always ugali. As wonderful as the food was, even more wonderful was the friendship these women extended to me.
It’s the women in Kenya that keep me anchored. They embrace their femininity and are eager to share their gifts of nurturing and compassion. They don’t shy away from hard work—it is a part of their lives, yet they go about their work with joy and gratitude. Over the years, we have remained friends. I am often blessed to be able to see them when I return to Kenya.
Beatrice–now a deaconess!! and married to a pastor, standing next to another dear friend, Deaconess Lorna Meeker. Point of Grace Academy, Kenya, 2019
Update on Hospice Project.
Yes, we are still working towards getting this hospice project off the ground!! Slowly, slowly, slowly. We are waiting for the Kenyan government to move forward with the paperwork that shows the community gifting the land to this project. Patience has never been one of my virtues, but I am learning.
Thank you for your ongoing support.
Always Mercy,
Pamela
