Goodbye

     Goodbyes to me are like the New York Yankees. Not only am I not a fan, but I simply hate them. 

    On our last Saturday night, Kevin and I bid our farewells to the host family. What a perfect name for them too, "host family." Although they were our "hosts" and that term seemed proper given its informality, they were also a "family" to us. They fed us, housed us, and spent quality time with us.

     One person I will never forget is Steven - the father of our host family. Steven lives amongst what we would see as the greatest and most overwhelming of inconveniences. He has 5 children to send to school, even though his broken car might jeopardize his ability to pay for any one of them. Like most Kenyans, he is on a constant quest to fend for water. When he gets it, he must make a fire to heat it up for a hot shower, then ration the rest in order to give each family member an adequate supply to drink. When he has the money, he will be incredibly grateful to use the equivalent of 1 American dollar to recharge his cell phone. His back has been injured for several years, but he cannot afford the medical costs to stop it from constantly paining him. 

    Despite these troubles, I have never met somebody so cheerful, so happy, and so good-spirited as Steven. He laughs and finds humor in nearly everything, and he is so appreciative of the very little he actually has. When Steven laughs hysterically in the living room, I never know whether I feel more saddened or appreciative about him. On one hand, I see this wonderful man who is such a good person yet struggling so much and it makes me sad. Yet on another, I see it as such a blessing that no amount of poverty can take away his happiness. 

   It was getting dark in Kenya, and it was time to say goodbye to the family. As they all lined up in front of us, I first shook Peter's hand, and told him how grateful I was to have had the opportunity to befriend him in the short time we were there. I then hugged Mrs. Kamau, and thanked her for all she had done to make us feel so welcome. Then I hugged Steven, which for me, was the hardest of all. He had a wide smile on his face and wished me a great journey home, and said I was welcome back anytime. 

 

    As we sat in the car, we rolled the windows down to hear the final shouts and goodbyes of our family. They all waved, several of them saying some things, as Steven walked parallel to the car while we rode away. He waved and ducked his head down facing Kevin and me and said "God bless you!" At this time I waved and said goodbye, but I had to turn my head to the side cause I didn't want to show him how sad I was. 

 

    As our car strolled slowly through the red rocky dirt paths, it began to hit me about how special my journey here has been. Several memories ran through my head at once and instantly reminded me how sad this really was. As I peaked out the window, I saw before me the path to my work every morning. Immediately I thought of the rooster crows, the orphans singing in unison from a distance. I thought of the children who laugh and smile and point as I walk by. I thought of the countless lines of Kenyans waiting for medical care, all staring at me not saying a word - all patient, graceful, and kind despite being in such poverty and inconvenience. I thought of Steven, and his prayer before dinner when he blesses his family, me and Kevin, and all of our friends and families he doesn't even know in the states. I will never forget this place.

  What a great land. What a great people. What a great experience. 

    TOMMY