Mission Journal Day 2

We ended up arriving in Zurich only fifteen minutes late. We must have had a powerful tail wind all the way across the Atlantic. Fortunately for us, our departing flight was only two gates over from our arrival gate. We had about an hour to take a bathroom brake and stroll through the terminal. To my surprise, we had to pass through another security checkpoint inside the terminal even though we arrived and would depart without going outside of the concourse. I began worrying about time again when I saw the row of metal detectors. But, the security people didn’t make me take off my shoes or make me take the camera out of the case. We passed through quickly and found our gate with twenty minutes to spare.

Twenty minutes to take in the sights of Switzerland. Well, I was unimpressed with what I could see through the glass walls of the terminal. I expected Zurich to be a large European city surrounded by snow-capped mountains. From where I stood I didn’t see a city. The mountains that surrounded the airfield were more like hills, instead of proud members of the Alps. The view reminded me of what I would see if I was standing at the gate at Asheville Regional Airport back home. I was disappointed I didn’t see fluffy white snow, settled into jagged rock cliffs. Only in the movies right?

We had a good flight into Kenya. It lasted seven hours and was pretty much uneventful. I did have to switch seats with a young mother and her baby. The three of us were together in the center isle. A two-year-old boy sitting in the row in front of us kept turning around in his seat and teasing the baby while the mother was desperately trying to put the baby to sleep. The boy’s father did absolutely nothing to keep the kid from reaching over the seat and tapping the mother on her head. So I gave her my seat and I sat behind the out of control two year old. I must not have been a good target for the boy because he didn’t turn around and try to tap me on the head while I was reading.

We landed in Nairobi at about seven o’clock in the evening. This was the end of our two-day trip. But I still felt like I was having one very long day. The overnight flight from JFK to Zurich seemed short because it was only dark for about six hours. When you are flying east you are flying toward the sun essentially speeding up time. I caught a nap or two on the ride but was never able to sleep longer than thirty minutes. So I had not gone to bed in twenty-four hours. A very long day indeed.



Stepping off the plane felt like da-ja-vu. Once you have been to a third world country you know it when you come back. While Jomo Kenyatta airport didn’t have various military planes performing touch and goes on the runway, the buildings and the character of the place was the same. I felt like I had stepped back in time. Everything looked old and extremely worn. The chairs in the terminal had that retro sixties look. When we got to baggage claim I saw men in various different military uniforms. Some wore green while others had a blue uniform. They were carrying old rifles similar to the ones the Germans carried in old war movies. No American made M-16s here. It felt and looked like the middle east but different.

Grace asked me if I thought everyone looked the same when we walked through the crowd. She was referring to the fact that there is very little diversity in Africa. “No,” I replied. “When everyone is wearing the same clothes and the same cloth on their heads, that’s when they all look the same.” I was talking about the Arabs in the Middle East.

We grabbed a Smartcard and found an unoccupied spot beside the conveyer belt to wait for our luggage. On the opposite end of the baggage claim area from where we stood was a wall of windows with a crowd of people pressing up against the glass. I felt like an animal at a zoo being watched by all those who stood at the windows. Grace said that security keeps everyone out of the entire airport except ticketed passengers. The people pressed up to the glass were family and friends waiting for arriving travelers. Unlike in the U.S., they were not permitted to roam freely in the baggage claim area. “We have very tight security here,” Grace said watching me look at the mob outside.

I strained to see Fr. Lawrence, Grace’s husband and mission trip coordinator, in the crowd but could not see him. As I looked, Grace’s question about everybody looking the same came back to me. Even though everybody was dressed in the Western style I was used to, I noticed just how much everyone did look alike. I didn’t see all the different skin tones and eye colors you find in America.

The bell on the conveyer belt rang letting us know that the luggage was about to come out from behind the wall. I was curious to see if all our bags had made the trip. Since the layover in Switzerland was so short, I wouldn’t have been surprised if our bag were still en-route to Nairobi. I shouldn’t have worried. Grace’s monstrous duffle bags full of medical supplies came rolling out with all the other luggage. But, as it came toward us on the belt, I noticed that one of the duffle bags was ripped open on one end. When I pulled the bag off the conveyor and set it on the cart, clear liquid began running out of the hole onto the floor.

“Oh God,” Grace whispered when I pointed out the puddle on the floor under the damaged bag. She said she had packed a couple of one-gallon jugs of hydrogen peroxide in that bag. “I wrapped them in garbage bags just in case they started leaking.”

I guess we were lucky enough to have that gorilla from the old Sampsonite TV commercial handling our bags on this flight. Grace opened the bag and tried to rearrange the medical supplies to stop the leaking peroxide while I got our other bags together. “We better get this out of here before the customs officer sees this,” Grace whispered as she wiped her wet hands on her pants. I piled all our stuff on the cart and rushed out the door to meet up with Fr. Lawrence.

We took a short drive through Nairobi to the guesthouse where we would be staying the night. It was dark so I really didn’t get to see much of the city. They didn’t have a lot of streetlights and the buildings were not lit up like the one’s here in Charlotte. I did notice we were driving on the left side of the road. I also noticed that they didn’t use stoplights at intersections. They also used those horrible roundabouts like the ones I became so familiar with in Kuwait. I was very thankful someone else was driving instead of me.

In the parking lot of the guesthouse the leaky duffle bag caught our attention again as the driver lifted it out of the trunk of the car. It left a puddle on the floor of the trunk.



We were staying at the International Bible Society Guesthouse. On the outside it looked like a hotel. But when I saw the inside I was reminded of a college dormitory. The first room I walked into was the dining area. It had four large tables where groups of folks sat enjoying tea and watching television. A staircase off to one side lead up to the second floor and to our rooms. My room was small and the bed consisted of a three-inch thick foam pad. No box springs and no headboard or footboard. A mosquito net hung from the ceiling. There was a closet but I didn’t see any other doors in the room. Where was the bathroom? The single bathroom for the entire floor was at the end of the hall. Did I mention this place reminded me of a college dorm? I dropped my bags on the floor and rushed back down to the dining room for my first Kenyan dinner.



The chef brought out three plates piled high with meat, rice, pasta, and a variety of vegetables. I recognized the vegetables to be carrots, cabbage, and spinach greens. The meat I wasn’t so sure about. I popped a piece of meat in my mouth but didn’t recognize the taste.

“How do you like the Gizzard,” Grace asked watching me chew with a puzzled look on my face. So that’s what it was. I liked it. It was tastier than chicken and wasn’t dry or chewy like the bird I’m used to eating at home. Once I had wild duck prepared for me by a friend who was an avid hunter. The gizzard was very similar to the duck meat. In any case, after two days of eating prepackaged airplane food, I would have devoured pretty much any home cooked meal placed in front of me. I enjoyed every last bite of my first Kenyan meal.

Once my belly was full I was ready for the bed. I can hardly sleep on an airplane so I had been awake for two days. I opened my suitcase to discover the Sampsonite gorilla baggage handler had struck again. Everything in my suitcase was covered in Gold Bond medicated body powder. Nice. I was shocked because my suitcase was a hard plastic shell. The bottled water was intact. The tubes of antibiotic cream and sun block were fine. But somehow the lid of the powder had been knocked off during the flight.



Grace went and got a wet towel, and helped me beat the powder out of my clothes. When we finished the floor was covered in white powder. I didn’t mind, the air in the room was a little stale and the powder made the room smell much better.

I was more than ready to get a shower and hit the sack after all of the excitement of our journey. I took my powdered underwear and walked down the hall to the community bathroom. I got a shock when I saw the shower. There was no showerhead above the tub. Instead, the tub faucet had a hand held shower attachment with a tube coiled around the spout. I was going to have to hold up the showerhead with one hand while I washed with the other. Then I got another shock when I turned on the hot water. There wasn’t any hot water even after I let the water run for several minutes. Oh no, was I going to have to take a cold shower? I decided to try the cold water just in case the two were backwards. Sure enough the water started getting warm after I turned on the cold water knob. Man that was a relief.

I had expected my accommodations to be a little less convenient than what I was used to in America. But I have to admit I was a little baffled with the mixed up shower faucet and the foam mattress bed. Not quite roughing it, but it definitely had the feel of living in a third world country. But, once I lay down on the musty thin mattress I was out until rays of sunshine warmed my face the next morning. As long as you get a good night sleep and wake up feeling refreshed, who cares about anything else?