We laugh, then we cry, then we fall asleep

Its the
natural progression of how things go sometimes here in Africa.

Living
encompasses all sorts of decisions and choices that normal young adults are
never faced with in America. We like to
reference Reese’s mom Monica and sing a little song called “Adult
Decisions” when it comes time to build coping skills to deal with the
uncertainty around us. There is no one
here who will make a decision for you, whether its as complicated as where one
should go to college next year or as simple as whether to drink tea or hot
chocolate with breakfast. “A-dult
deciiiisions”, we sing.

Last week
when we were moving from our debrief location in Jinja, Uganda to a tiny town
just outside of Homa Bay, Kenya, we had to fit all 12 of us, a driver and a
conductor into a rickety African “matatu”, or 15 passenger van
(actual size = large toaster oven). On top of that (and literally “on
top” of the van) we had our packs which are each about the size of a 6
year old. So we are assured at the
border that everything will fit, even though by any gauge of realistic
expectation, someone or something was going to be left out.

I have a
little saying I like to bring up in situations like these: L.A.F.I.T. Let the Africans Figure It Out. Every neuron in my brain is firing the same message: “Yeah that’s
not gonna work.” And then I remember that its not my job to pack the van,
praise Jesus. I like to take a short
mental vacation during these times.

So, by
the grace of God, all 12 of us, the driver and the conductor, make it into the
toaster and all our bags are in a Mount Kilimanjaro-sized pile roped
precariously to the roof. The roads
between the border and Kisumu look like the scene out of an action movie, like
some Transformers have had an epic battle here and left giant craters in the
middle of the road. I mean, they’re
huge. You an fit a family of 4 and their
golden retriever inside just one of them. You could fill one with water and swim in it.

So as we
drive its acceleration BRAKE SLAM weaving around the pothole acceleration BRAKE
SLAM bobbing left and right, etc. This
lasts for about an hour and a half. If you didn’t struggle with motion sickness
before, you’re now a believer.

At one
point (during one of the many “rough patches” we encountered)
Jenessa’s pack flew off the roof and landed several yards back. By the grace of
God KC saw it fly off out of the corner of her eye. There was no peace of mind or rest for us
backseat passengers at that point – we were on pack patrol.

Eventually
we made it, slightly sweatier and grumpier than we had been previously, but
even now I look back on this story with a smile, thinking of the ways I can
tell this to my grandkids someday. Oh Africa…oh, Africa.