— Traveling with Friends
Brooks
"Now, Brooks, you know I am very ok; Africa is my home." This is the response I often get from our compatriot from Kenya, Dawson, as we invite him to go with us to do trainings. Not that I'm nervous or anything, but seriously, when he drives up with whatever hubcapfree, severely dented, tiny vehicle to pick us up, I just have to wonder what little adventure is in store for us this time. It's just that now we have driven with him to three different places and ALL three times the car broke down, so maybe you can empathize just a tiny bit with me. That's just the mechanics of our vehicle. It's the size that can be a challenge as well. Poor, tall Roger has to fold himself like an envelope just to be able to sit in the front seat and somehow sit low enough so his head can squeeze under the roof and high enough so his knees bend so much that they reach almost to his chest and then press squarely onto the dashboard. What a trooper!
This particular trip to Tanzania was even more surprising … yes, we had the beat up car with too many issues to list, and yes, the car was packed full. We are traveling VERY heavy this trip. So much luggage to deal with because of our little jaunt in England reminds us of why we value keeping our bags small and few when we come here. Dawson's wife Elizabeth joined us, too, so that made me, Elizabeth, two ginormous "purses," a large bag filled with food (because we've learned that once everything and everyone is slammed into the vehicle Dawson will stop for NOTHING, even if the trip is SIX hours long), and Dawson's backpack … all in the minute backseat, and a kid's lunch pail and a couple of jackets smashed up against the back dash as well. The trunk was stuffed full of luggage as were somehow Roger and Dawson in the two front seats. Peering from behind, all I could see was that yep, indeed a Kenyan car with every knob, switch, and accessory broken off or not working, including, of course, the gas gauge. But, the shocking part of this trip was that absolutely nothing went wrong … no roadside adventures, no gasps of worry over thugs robbing us (a common practice after dark) … actually it was quite boring, albeit sweltering, just staring out the dust encrusted windows at small town after small town of women selling tomatoes or sweet potatoes piled in a pyramid or packing up for the day by balancing enormous parcels of their wares on their heads as they traveled some distance back to their villages to gather firewood, water and then prepare dinner for I'm sure, many children. I wonder at their lives and how it is, but lest emotion overtake, let's return to our journey…
The hours slipped by as THE question keeps coming from the back seat, "How much longer?" But, thankfully, family is family and conversation is real and honest and comfortable. Feelings are understood, passion for mission is synchronized. Laughter is genuine … at each other and at ourselves. A lot has happened in six months and yet, nothing has changed at all.