The faith building adventures of missionary life!

We finally got Anna’s papers at the American Embassy in Nairobi.  She is officially an American! But on the eight hour drive home, in the middle of nowhere, our car began to overheat.  We pulled over as far as we could, with traffic flying past us (no shoulders on these roads).  John began to assess the situation. With no services like AAA here we knew we needed Divine intervention. 

He remembered a gas station not too far up ahead.  After the car cooled we got back on the road. We made it, but the gas station was old, broken down and no longer in service.  What we did find was a tiny garage, if you can call it that, with some interesting-looking guys claiming to be mechanics. With no other options, John agreed to drive our car up the scary-looking, not-sure-if-it’s-stable ramp for the “mechanics” to take a look.





To the left of the parked cars is the make shift ramp.  The guys lounging on it are the so called “mechanics” and the guy with the hat is the ring leader.  The picture is blurry because it was taken out of a moving vehicle.
 

At first they seemed confident it was a simple fix, a leak, but time ticked on with no apparent progress.  John tried to keep up with them but with all five of them working on the car at once and speaking to each other in their tribal language, we had no clue what was going on.  I stayed with Anna in the back seat of the car the whole time; there was literally nowhere else to sit. With no idea what was going on all I could do was start calling friends to ask for prayer and watch John’s face for clues as the hours passed one after the other.  A few times he peaked his head into the car for a brief moment to see how we were doing and would comment under his breath, “I don’t know if these guys know what they’re doing, pray.”  

 Allow me to pause there for a moment. If you’re a woman who’s been pregnant, or if you’ve had a pregnant wife, you’ll understand my very uncomfortable situation.  I had to pee! With no other options of a restroom or even a bush to hide behind, I did what any missionary mother in my situation would have done: I discovered just how absorbent Pampers are.  Of course with my big belly it was a real accomplishment to do this discreetly in the back seat without peeing all over myself. 

Finally it became clear: we were stranded, with our baby, at the mercy of strangers we couldn’t trust.  As night was falling I got a text from a friend who knew a pastor living an hour and a half away in a town called Nakuru.  We were grateful for any connections and called Pastor Alfred.  We explained our dire situation and he graciously agreed to drive out and pick us up once he was through with his meeting.

By this time the “mechanics” had dismantled our entire engine and there were parts strewn everywhere. John felt the best option was to send me and Anna and the luggage with Pastor Alfred, while he stayed  the night with our clearly disabled car to keep it from being stolen.  I wasn’t okay with that.  I didn’t know Pastor Alfred or where Anna and I would be taken.  John’s phone was nearly dead with no way to charge it leaving no way of communication the whole night apart. Being near the Great Rift Valley, temperatures were dropping fast and John didn’t have any warm clothes. Most worrying was the fact that we didn’t know these men or their intentions! My husband was third runner up for Mr. Eldoret in weight lifting in his day, and is buff, strong, and brave, but he was up against five guys. 

All I could do was pray and text urgent prayer requests to friends and trust that God would deliver us.  I kept putting layers on Anna as darkness approached and it got colder.  Thankfully I had plenty of crackers and raisins, which she ate hungrily.  Once it got dark the “mechanics” said they “had to buy a part,” and disappeared leaving us there vulnerable and utterly stranded.  John came into the car with me and told me it was obvious now that these guys never meant to fix the car. We could not stay there safely, and we had no way to leave.  We knew the few local shops in the distance would close at nine—we’d be alone and a target.  Periodically, some of the guys would show up and then disappear again, obviously in the process of getting drunk on local brew. 

Pastor Alfred had still not arrived and it was approaching eight; we began to think he’d never planned to come.  We continued calling everyone we knew who could possibly have connections in the area to help.  We needed a tow truck.  A few friends knew of people but they were all too far from us.  One guy was willing to come out to us (a drive of several hours), but he wanted $300, which is more than what we had with us, or even in our bank account at the time. 

At this point I had called a very close and dear missionary couple who were my college teammates, who offered any financial help we needed and committed to keep praying until we were safe.  I felt a wave of faith rush over me and I knew all would be well, but in God’s time and way, not ours.  A few days prior, God had dropped a name in my heart for this little miracle growing inside of me and in that moment, that night, He confirmed it:  Eliana, Hebrew for “My God who answers me.”  When we pray we do not pray to a lifeless, imaginary person in the sky, but the ONE true Living, Breathing, Caring, Saving, Able, Father, Friend, Deliverer—Elohim!  HE WILL ALWAYS ANSWER!!

We finally got a hold of Pastor Alfred who said he would be there soon. It was a relief. He finally arrived at nine.  After we explained the situation, he offered to try and tow us himself.  He had a minivan, not exactly a towing truck. 

The guys must have been nearby, watching and waiting, because as soon as he arrived they reappeared, accusing us of not trusting them! Not wanting to cause trouble, not knowing how many others there could be watching us in the darkness, John placated them by saying we were so thankful for their help and would pay them for their work but we needed to go. The ring leader jumped in to the driver’s seat of our car, reeking of alcohol, and began to put it in neutral to roll back down the ramp.  I heard John yell, “Wacha mama na mtoto washuke kwanza”—“Let mom and baby get out first!”  But we were already rolling. 

My heart was in my throat. We could easily fall off the ramp.  I felt the rear tires hit ground and I exhaled.  A random guy opened my door and began grabbing my bag, telling me to get out.  I thought it was Pastor Alfred or someone with him but a second later John grabbed the bag back and stepped between me and this stranger.  John told me to get in the pastor’s car. 

After a few minutes we were moving. A childhood song was playing in my head— I could hear my dad singing it with his guitar, the way he did at our family devotions: “Jehovah Jireh, my provider, His grace is sufficient for me.  My God shall supply all my needs according to His riches in glory. He will give His angels charge over me.  Jehovah Jireh cares for me.”  A warm tear ran down my cold cheek and I placed a hand on my tummy and whispered, “Eliana, He answered.”

 After a few minutes I felt a jerk; our car had come loose.  I saw John get out and hook it up again.  Could we make it all the way to Nakuru like this?  Next we were stopped by police, and unlike in America, the police here are not your friends and are not there to help you.  I quickly said a prayer for favor and that they’d let us go, and as soon as I did I saw them wave us through.  This happened twice. 

It took us two hours to get to Nakuru. Anna slept the whole way, bundled up in whatever I could find.  I had my own personal heater in my womb, so though I was cold, it wasn’t bad.  Pastor Alfred took us to a Christian motel. Finally, our car was unhooked and parked and our luggage inside and we were in a warm room.  John and I hadn’t eaten since morning, but it didn’t matter at that point; we were safe and had shelter and a bed with warm blankets and somewhere to lay Anna for the rest of the night.  Pastor Alfred promised to be back in the morning to check on us. We were so thankful for this brother in Christ who willingly helped us, strangers, and who could easily with blame have said, “No, I’m too busy.”  It was past one in the morning when we finally turned out the lights. 

Pastor Alfred returned in the morning with his mechanic to assess our car.  It turned out to be past fixing. We were so thankful to have escaped the night before that we didn’t care.  We took as much of our things as we could; the owner of the motel agreed we could keep the car there for the time being.  He also drove us to the bus stop, where we were able to get a minivan headed west.  We had to transfer in Kisumu. 

Squeezed into the back of the minivan

From there we took a matatu. This is also a minivan, but they cram extra seats in, and pack you in like sardines. Normal seating capacity is eleven but matatues cram twenty!  John was told there were working seat belts, but when we got in with Anna in her car seat, all seat belts were broken.  So, for the last leg of our adventure I held her seat in place.  Half way into the VERY bumpy ride (over a dirt road with no shocks), it started pouring rain with lighting and hail stones. 
 

Now logic would say if it’s raining so hard you can’t see the road in front of you, you should pull over till it lets up, right?  Wrong.  Logic, here, says drive faster, and comment how you can’t see where you’re going, so all your passengers feel reassured (or not).  Rain began leaking inside the van, wetting John’s shoulder. It leaked all around Anna but not on her. 

We finally pulled into Kakamega shortly after dark and John’s taxi owning friend took us home.  When we got into the house there was no electricity, which is so common an occurrence in Kakamega that it was comforting—we really were home at last.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Besides the totaled car, there’s so many reasons why a new car is needed. We spent too much money just barely keeping our old car on the road; potholes and unmarked speed bumps kept it going back to the mechanics almost weekly.  Our family is expanding, with Doreen here, and Eliana coming in August.  We often have to drive eight hours to Nairobi for ministry, embassy visits, medical care, etc. And we live in an unstable country. Not having reliable transportation is scary. The nearest ER is over an hour away. Remembering 2008 post-election violence that nearly tore Kenya apart, and the recent Nairobi Westgate and Garissa University terrorist attacks, if a quick evacuation is needed, a reliable vehicle is a serious necessity. 

One of the many times we were stranded on the side of the road. This was in November of last year.

 

We were able to sell our old car in the condition it was in (which was a miracle) but we are far from being able to purchase.  Second hand vehicles here are still expensive.  We’ve found a car we feel God’s marked for us, which the Salvation Army is selling for $9000 (that’s average here).  It’s a used Toyota Noah in decent condition.  Click Here if you’d like to help us financially.

Another time we broke down on the side of the road last year.  That time I  had to walk over a mile with Anna to get to an area where I could wait while John worked with some mechanics to get us moving again.

 

Below are some pictures of the roads in Kakamega.   As you can see, these roads are tough for any vehicle, but were killer for our small, low riding car.




One of the roads in Kakamega town


 



The road we live on and would drive down daily

Our car on the road right outside our house, before it was gone.