Time

Here is a journal entry from just a little while ago:

Today was my first real experience with rain in Kenya. (Little did I know that I would have many more.) I say that because it is the first time I've been caught in hard rain without a vehicle. It was interesting. And it was such a reminder of how disconnected we, in America, are from nature. In the US, we jump in our cars and speed through the rain on our paved road with our windshields going full speed. But here, the weather can shape your day. And in an American mindset, that can be very frustrating. On any given day, meetings are cut short because the sky changes color and the temperature drops.

And today when the GET UP (Girls Empowerment Team of the Umoja Project) program ended, the rain began. At first it sprinkled, then it poured, and at times it even hailed. We were worried that the girls would be stuck in the rain, but just like we took shelter in the head teacher's office, they took shelter in the classrooms. And there we waited. But in our waiting we conversed, took lunch, and enjoyed the company of the teachers, guardians, and our own team. Our time together was actually quite nice. But it also meant that we were very late to spend the afternoon with Emily, the woman who was hosting Mandy and Elizabeth in her home. But our tardiness of several hours was completely acceptable. And Emily was completely okay with Tiffany and I leaving only an hour after we arrived so that we could make it home before dark.

Before I left the United States, people warned me about "Africa time" or "Kenyan time." And I was actually told that the Kenyan practices of time might be the only things that I shouldn't bring back from the Kenyan culture to the US. But there is something beautiful about their concept of time even when it means waiting for long periods of time. Time is almost viewed as if it were a gift. Something that didn't belong to them. Something that rested in the hands of the community, not the individual. And ultimately rested in the hands of God.