We could have slept in, but my alarm clock scared us awake at 7 am, well, not Branden, I had to scare him awake! We were cleaned up, packed and out the door at 7:35. A five minute walk to the bus stop and we arrive just as the #140 is pulling away. Missed it! I knew we should have been out the door at 7:30. This bus service runs 24/7 and in10 minutes another 140 arrives. We step aboard and tell the driver we are going to Central Bus Station. "It's alright, mate, this one is free to the airport". At the airport, it's up two floors in an elevator, then across to security, and then enough time to catch breakfast at the Giraffe Cafe. We order a breakfast omelette each, without toast, at double the price we pay in Canada. $5.95 didn't seem so bad at all and I forgot we were looking at a menu in British pounds. Then the currency conversion nails you with just about double the price! Branden thinks everything in London is inflated.
As we were getting up from the table, a jolly black lady is trying to get in at the table next to us. I smiled at her and asked her where she was from. She just got off the plane from Nairobi, so I mentioned we just happened to be going there. She asked what we were doing and we mentioned visits to schools and orphanages. Well, she lit up and shared how she just opened up an orphanage in Nakuru on October 1st. She was starting with 5 children, and another being added and by the weekend, 2 more children from Kitale (where Rebecca spent some time this summer) whose parents have both died of Aids. That makes 8 children. She showed us pictures on her iPad of the children and the home she is renting. It was the former residence of the local MP who had just vacated the premises to move to his own newly-constructed home. It wasn't available in August when she was searching for a suitable location, but then it came open in September and she signed a lease for the equivalent of $500 Canadian a month. Pastor Josey was educated at a Bible School in Colorado Springs. She is traveling in the US for about six months to raise support for this new orphanage. I couldn't help but admire her dream and her vision. We may even get to Nakuru on this trip. It's only a couple of hours north in the Rift Valley.
After breakfast we go back down to ask for gate instructions since the board was flashing, "Please wait". Well, no gate number and only 30 minutes before they close for boarding. We went down to the lower floor where there was an information booth and showed that our tickets had no gate numbers. The girl told us it should be up on the board, but said it was displaying a wait notice. Wouldn't you know it, that as she took us to another departure board, it read Gate 48. It must have changed on our way down the stairs. Now comes the complicated directions to get there. Go to the end of the terminal, take a left down the elevator (two floors) and follow the directions to the underground train where you wait for the right train to get to terminal 5. At the platform, there is an 8 minute wait for the train but it is going to the wrong terminal. Another wait for the next train and it is a 4 minute underground ride to the correct terminal. Wow, we're not there yet! Up two more flights to departure level. After check-in, guess what. Down the outside stairs to tarmac level, across to the plane and then up the stairs into the plane. Finally!
Nope. Now we get to wait another 45 minutes because a passenger who was in a wheelchair couldn't be brought down the stairs to the tarmac, the person responsible was on a first responder call and other staff had to be located to bring her by another route to the waiting plane and then use a lift to get her up to the aircraft door. I was just telling Branden how lucky he was to have the middle seat with the window seat vacant beside him when the pilot explained the reason for the delay. Guess whose seat if was? Yup! The very person we were waiting for, Sahra. Sarha is only 38 but moved like she was over 80. She took the window seat but eventually took my aisle seat because she had to get out in the aisle frequently because of severe back pain. Sarha is Somalian, born in Mogadishu. She fled as a child due to the civil unrest and somehow made her way to the US where she became a citizen and now resides in Massachusetts. She has a cousin in Nairobi that she has come to visit 3 times since 2007. She wore a head covering and was in obvious pain, holding her head and awaying back and forth or holding her head in a pillow against the seat in front of her. The cabin crew brought her pain medication every four hours, so she was a bit out of it. How do I know all these things? Because of her condition and lack of understanding of the visa application and landing card, I helped fill out her forms from the information in her passport. She could barely print. Her speech was slurred and it took careful attention to understand her, but for the last 30 minutes of the flight we chatted. She asked what we were going to do in Kenya and after telling her some of our plans, she simply said, "God bless you". Well, with a 186 km tail wind, we not only made up for the lost time, but got to Nairobi 5 minutes ahead of schedule. How does that work?
Well, that got our feet on African soil. Erastus was sent to pick us and waited for us to get through immigration and customs. Both were a breeze. Two guys with four gigantic suitcases should have brought more attention. We proceeded to "Nothing to Declare" and one customs lady asked what was inside and I explained we had gifts for friends, and some gifts from family members for missionaries...and we had gifts for orphanages. For orphanages? Yes. Keep going. We came out of that ordeal (hahaha) to find Erastus holding a pink sign with Harry H printed on it. After exchanging some money, Erastus took us to the PAOC Guest house. We arrived at 11:30 ready to come to rest inside a locked iron gate. Safe.
No comments:
Post a Comment