From: Jordan Burnam - Kenya Team, 7/31/2010

Kenya is Comfortable.

I arrived in Kenya just under three weeks ago and I had heard many stories about past experiences in this country from my significant other as well as many of my friends, so I knew what to expect…sort of. I knew to expect that Chris and Irene, our most gracious hosts, are wonderful people and that I and my team would feel especially welcome in their home. And we have. I expected that we would have a great time with kids at the Raila Educational Center, playing football (soccer for the American reader), and having them teach us Swahili. It happened. I expected to begin falling in love with a country where the music is so rich and vibrant you are caught up in a rushing torrent of melody and harmony. Expectation = reality. Yesterday, as we attended the wedding of Karimi, the worship leader at one of the churches in Nairobi, the phrase “Kenya is comfortable” popped into my mind. I think that is honestly the best way to describe the overall feel of this country and its people.

However, I do believe there are some things I could never have been prepared for or expected. We were given the opportunity to go with Chris’ cousin, Lips, to deliver some food to a school in Mitumba. In Swahili, the polite translation of Mitumba is “used”, the not-so-polite translation is “used menstrual rag.” As we arrived the school the children flocked the vehicle and grew very excited knowing that food had arrived. As we climbed out of the van the children enthusiastically grabbed our hands and clamored for our attention. A little while later I was caught up in a game of football with some of the older boys and was allowed to stay while the rest of the team and Lips (pronounced Leeps) received a tour of the slum from one of the teachers. Eventually the kids that I was playing with had to go to class and I was left with one other young man, Kelvin. As we continued to play football he shared that he was 17 years old and was a helper to the cook at the school. Kelvin eventually moved on to show me that he could juggle and as I (unsuccessfully) attempted the same feat, Kelvin called out to me, “Jordan, my mom died.” I was taken aback by this sudden confession and asked him when this happened. “On Friday,” he told me. I awkwardly responded “Pole sana,” (I’m very sorry). How can you ever be prepared for a moment like that?