I snuggle into a ball inside my dookey pants (*thai pants properly renamed by our squad leader lindsey nelson). There is a bite in the air that I can't get away from. Who would have thought it would be so cold here. It's still early, there's no one banging pans in the room next door, and by room I mean stall that is our kitchen. I'm tempted to jump into the bunk below and make erin let me share her sleeping bag. No, I'll just get up, get moving. My feet hit the dirt floor, it's freezing, my feet are always freezing. As quietly as I can I open our metal door, creeaaakk it sighs, as I slip past onto the covered porch. The grass is shimmering as the sun reflects off of the dew and I draw in a deep inhale of well, life, like newness, pure. I remind myself to start getting up for more sunrises, every time I am in awe. The stillness of the day before anyone is awake carries an eerie silence that draws me into the presence of the Lord. Behind me are the Cherangani Hills.
We took a motorcycle adventure through those hills.
We stood on pride rock in those hills.
We witnessed to an unreached people in those hills, screamed a noise that had never been made in those hills, got poured on in those hills. We wiped out in giant red puddles in those hills.
I love those hills.
I step forward to walk across the field and feel something wet hit my nose. Then another drop, and another sprinkling my face, and then as if the heavens have opened pouring down right on top of me. I jump back under the tin roof and decide it is a day to stay still, a day to watch, and a day to listen to the melody God wanted to play me this morning as the rain drops beat down on our tin roof. There is nothing better to sleep to, but I am awake and soaking it all in. Literally. A take another breath in of crisp Kenya air. Kenya. I remember it like it was this morning.
Too-Kay. Raspy clearing of the throat. Too-Kay. Clearing of the throat. Too-Kay. It's 6 am and the too-kays that live in our rafters have already begun their mating call. Don't they ever sleep. I wriggle out of my sleep sack, and under the mosquito net to get to the doorway of our treehouse. It's green as far as I can see. A maze of rice paddies that come up to my chest, the perfect setting for a game of hide and go seek. Giant white cows stand in the yard near the schoolhouse, and I can smell fish sauce and pork sizzling below me in the kitchen and my thoughts instantly go to rice waffles and ice coffee. It has become an addiction here. You can get three for a dollar. The vendor and I have become good friends. I slip on my flips and follow the train of ants down the stairs and set off down the dirt rode to satisfy my craving. These walks have become a time of meditation. This is a place of simplicity, simple beauty is the most striking.
Kids wave as they ride by on their way to school, their bike basket filled with books and notepads. It's early, but they will wait happily for two hours for the school doors to open. There is a spirit of thankfulness around this place. I love teaching these kids. In the classroom the kids screaming the alphabet back to me, and the smiles on their faces when they correctly pronounce a word or put together a sentence melts my heart and gives me a glimpse of what Hope really looks like- these kids have a hunger to learn. I am looking at the next generation of Cambodia, and she smiles at me with pigtails and jumps into my arms at the end of class. I can still feel her embrace.
