Karibu Nyumbani!

"Welcome home!" The guard at the gate to the SIM guesthouse greeted me in Kiswahili, his face lit with a broad smile.

I have been walking the short distance from Nakumatt, the "Walmart" of Kenya, to my current place of residence in Nairobi, Kenya. The evening is warm; the air is heavy with the promise of a thunder storm. Although crickets chirp loudly, heavy traffic drowns out the subtler noises of the night. Pot-holed streets are choked with cars, buses, bikes, and foot-traffic and my fellow pedestrians seem fearless of the vehicles weaving three-deep on a two-lane road. Traffic attempts to obey one rule: "Don't hit anything", although this is subjective, it seems. Despite the apparent disorder, drivers are considerate to the tide of pedestrians; I pick my way across the river of vehicles to the side street where I live.

I enjoy observing the flow of humanity around me as I traverse dirt paths that boarder the street. During the past three days on Kenyan soil, I've found the population of Nairobi to be a genteel people. As I walk, I think back to Andrew, a taxi driver that I met yesterday. His story, I believe, is common to those residing in this growing, striving city. Andrew was raised in a village among a cattle-herding people, one of several sons responsible for overseeing the livestock. He smilingly recalls sneaking a dip in the river while his cows grazed on forbidden land; "I was so afraid of getting caught by my father." Working through his boyhood years, Andrew rarely enjoyed the refreshment of a cool swim on sweltering Kenyan afternoons. After completing college courses, Andrew was forced to search for work in distant Nairobi. He now drives for a tour company and has three children. When I asked him how he enjoys his work, he thanked God for employment and demonstrated graciousness. He could be bitter that his college education is not being utilized, or that he is estranged from his home village. Instead, he states, "There are so many beautiful things about driving for safari. When I am out on the Reserve, it is just me, the animals, and quiet."

I have now arrived at the blue gate that separates my living quarters from the bustling life of the city. After a gentle knock, Peter, the guard, greets me at the gate with a warm welcome. I do indeed feel at home! He produces a work-sheet of Kiswahili phrases for me to practice. In the morning when I leave, I will say, "Habari ya asumbuhi. Naenda SIM headquarters, tuonane mbandae!" Which means, "Good morning. I'm going to the SIM headquarters, see you later!" My new friend is a patient teacher; I'm thankful for the practice!

I greet a fellow missionary as we cross paths by the SIM guesthouse entryway. Up three flights of stairs, and now I'm "home" in apartment B3. I review my purchases for the village and anticipate leaving for Sudan next Wednesday. For now, this apartment and the surrounding city blocks are my home. I navigate the streets between the marketplace, the Yaya center, and the SIM headquarters. Nairobi is located just south of the equator and the sun is on a rotating schedule with the 6:30's. The evening is brief, but beautiful. I watch the sunset, framed by swaying palms, acacia, and exotic cactus plants that I am yet unfamiliar with. The roar of the rush-hour traffic gradually succumbs to subtler sounds of the night: an occasional bark, crickets, a baby crying, water pumps creaking.

"Yes." I smile to myself, "God has brought me here. And wherever He wants me, I am home."