I'm in Love!

Ok, not with a guy, but the new PCP Wizard. Saw her yesterday, a far cry from the Witch. She's bright, well trained and totally nonplussed by what I do. Maybe that's because she's from Ghana and goes over at least once a year to teach. We almost forgot to take care of the physical and meds because of our excitement at talking to each other. I shared with her the idea of clinics in schools on the weekends and she loved it. It's almost like I can't wait to get sick so we can talk more, but I suspect there will be other opportunities. So I'm besotted with the idea of a PCP who is cool and gets me.

And now for the second installment of "Miles to go before I sleep..."

4 October 2008
The first full day here was rather humdrum. I suppose if you have never been to Nairobi then all the smells and sights, the burning in your eyes, the insane drivers cutting each other off, might feel exotic. For me, it is my other home. Prices have gone up here but other than that it’s Nairobi.
I decided to go to Masaai Market today to get the things for our auction. The government has moved the site of the market, and it seemed much smaller than before. Francis loves the market and is happy to look around and haggle. For me I tire of it quickly and like to shop with a goal. I don’t like being pulled and tugged, I hate the constant bargaining. I know it is all part of the deal, but I have been here so many times, I know what a fair price is and when they ask something so astronomical that I’m shocked, it depresses me. I come to them, in their clothes, my hair braided (yes that was the morning venture) and speaking their language. I guess the saying we have back home, just doesn’t apply here. “Honey I was born at night, just not last night”.
The market was successful and I got things that should do well in the auction. And then it was off to the Nakumatt for coffee. They don’t drink coffee here, but they sure grow some of the best in the world. Again, Francis takes the cart and is shocked when I go right to the coffee and tea aisle and load up and then want to check out. He is stunned, but then he remembers and laughs, “You are a woman of purpose, I forgot”. As we left the torrents of rain that should not be falling are pelting us. I love the feel of the soft warm wet, but Francis runs for the car. I stroll and he watches. Ah a crazy muzungu.
We returned unscathed and said goodbye. Francis will drive the Rift tomorrow; I will fly over it on Monday. He will bring a different driver for me to meet tomorrow and the new one will take me to KARI. I go tomorrow with such mixed emotions, only a few months ago, my friends were slaughtered. Only a few months ago I hear Beatrice’s panicked voice begging me to help her and the girls leave Kari. Mama June and her 2 daughters are dead. Evalyn shall never live there again. However, I suspect, as we gather to worship, we shall nod and be still and acknowledge what is past and then carry on. Africans are good at that.
It’s not that they don’t care or don’t feel. Their acceptance of a life that is impermanent and treacherous as well as joyous is fully lived. We Americans believe we control everything, but that is just not so. In my other job as therapist I listen to people bemoan their experience of the world, and I must help them see it is not the world that is ruining their life; it is their thinking and expectations about this planet that’s doing it.
And so I go early in the morning, wondering what I will find, happy and sad all at the same time. I will be at my home church with the choir singing, and the stillness of the land and the clouds.