Toto, We’re Not in Kansas Anymore

After Joe finished giving epidural injections yesterday and I took a short nap, we headed up the stairs to Rift Valley Academy to walk the guard trail. The history of Rift Valley Academy as a school for the children of missionaries is quite interesting and includes Theodore Roosevelt laying the cornerstone of one of the main buildings. But we were there to stretch our legs and hopefully see some monkeys, and we were successful on both accounts.

There are about 5 monkeys in that tree, though the iPhone picture doesn’t quite do them justice. We stopped to listen to an African Gospel choir rehearsal and watched as the sun begin to sink over Mount Longonot before heading back towards home. Joe confessed that there was no tea or coffee at the apartment, so we walked into the Kijabe Central Business District to the Super Duka.

We bought a 2L CocaCola Light, 100 bags of pure Kenyan tea, a pint of frozen yoghurt, 1 kg of turbinado sugar, and a small notebook for me for less than $8. Joe insisted that we use the change from our 1000 shillings to get some chapati at Mama Chiku’s, which I had heard a lot about the previous year. Even though we had dinner at home, we made an appetizer out of a few chapatis and some chai at Mama Chiku’s Hotel.

This morning was my first day at Kijabe Hospital, and I wanted to make a good first impression. Except that the shower is a force to be reckoned with and my hair dryer doesn’t work with the convertor. Oh well, this is Africa.

Joe gave a lecture on sepsis to the ICU nurses, and I pretended to be enthralled. He took me on a tour of the hospital (including the woodworking and metal shop!). It is like being in another world: 8-10 patients in a room, minimal hand sanitization, mopping up bodily fluids with soap and water, and relatives camped out on the lawn waiting for visiting hours. And apparently Kijabe is known as “the nice hospital because there are sheets on the beds.” Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not at Vanderbilt anymore. Nonetheless, I am very impressed by the creativity and flexibility in using the resources around. I mean, who needs a crash cart when you have a Craftsman toolbox?

 

Then I met up with some of the chaplains, and we talked a little about how long I would be there and my experience. Being from significantly more conservative and evangelical backgrounds, they didn’t seem quite to know what to do with the information that I am an ordained priest and the only minister at my church but were welcoming anyway. I was paired up with a younger male chaplain, and we went off to the women’s ward for “bedside evangelism” – standing up in front of the room, introducing ourselves, giving them an encouraging word, and praying.

One girl had lost her mother and brother in the same house attack that landed her in the hospital with a gunshot to her thigh. Stephen spoke mostly in Swahili and would translate my prayers phrase by phrase. At 12:30, the families come into see the patients, so we took a lunch break. I walked back to our apartment since Joe had made me a sandwich. In the afternoon, Stephen and I did some more individual visits, including one with this 19 year old with spina bifida.

Stephen had asked her if she wanted to accept Jesus as her personal Lord and Savior today, and she said yes. Then he turned to me and asked me if I would lead her to Christ. I politely let him know that wasn’t really part of my tradition but that I would observe and support him. Pretty much just like chaplaincy at Vanderbilt. Or not. Like any good day of ministry, it was thoroughly exhausting. We even missed the tea break at 4 pm because we were with an elderly woman who might have malaria and her daughter. Not actually quitting at quitting time? Now that’s a quality of ministry that transcends cultural and political barriers. Joe picked me up at 5 pm, and we walked home together, changed, and then went for a walk around Kijabe to catch up on our days.

We might not be at Vanderbilt or in Kansas anymore, but Kijabe hospital has its own charm that I could get used to.

The Road to Kijabe

Nashville to Atlanta. Atlanta to Amsterdam. Amsterdam to Nairobi. Like one does.

I hadn’t travelled cross-hemisphere since I was 16, so it was quite the journey. Fortunately, the flight portions went smoothly (save some significant turbulence somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean when I was convinced I was going to die), and I disembarked in the Nairobi airport after nearly 24 hours of travel. Nairobi. Kenya. Africa. Still blows my mind. Joe had warned me to make a beeline for the visa desk in order to beat the crowds, and I had no problem obtaining my Kenyan visa. The next obstacle was trying to figure out how to maneuver two nearly-50 lb suitcases off the baggage claim and through customs. Fortunately, a nice gentleman grabbed them for me, and I snagged a luggage cart and passed through customs.

Expecting to victoriously exit and be greeted by Joe who was able to come to Nairobi to meet me, I scanned the crowd for a tall white guy who might be calling my name to no avail. Rationally, I knew he was probably stuck in traffic and that I had made my way through the visa/baggage/customs process rather quickly, but I still felt my anxiety and emotions rise as I stood there overwhelmed with no way to contact him. After about 10 minutes, I saw him move through the crowd and flagged him down. Then we met up with Phillip, our driver, and were en route through the streets of Nairobi to the Mayfield Guesthouse. Our room was simply appointed but comfortable. I was more than happy to have access to a warm shower and a clean bed, even if my body still thought it was mid-afternoon instead of close to midnight. We unfurled the mosquito net and went to sleep.

Breakfast the next morning was family-style. Following a short devotion, we tucked into papaya, toast, sausage, and eggs. Our tablemates were an older Australian couple who were trying to get to the Congo as missionaries but were entangled in some visa issues. We were happy to find WiFi in the lobby, which we used to catch up on the world while we waited for Phillip’s arrival.

On the way to Kijabe, we stopped at a nice mall/shopping center to have a coffee at Nairobi Java House and pick up some fruit and dairy products. Driving through Nairobi was a trip. First of all, it’s not like there are things like lane lines or street lights that are generally obeyed. Then you have to dodge the mutatus, passenger vans for public transportation. As if there were any doubts that the traffic could be dangerous, we actually drove past a man, freshly dead in the street following a hit and run. Eerie. We drove past townhome-like dwellings where the rich businessman and politicians live, and we drove past the corrugated metal-sided slums, past donkeys milling about and women cutting the grass with machetes, past markets and butcheries with sides of meat hanging in the window. Phillip took us to a stop overlooking the Rift Valley and Mount Longonot where we took some pictures and tried to fend off the people hawking their wares.

Phillip needed to make a detour into the town of Kimende, which he described as a typical Kenyan town. Red, deeply cratered dirt roads, small shops, people walking around taking care of their business, and a burning trash heap in the center of town.

Then we turned off onto Kijabe road and bounced and bumped our way down the winding road until we finally arrived at our destination, though not without Phillip having to stop and tighten a loose battery connector in order to get the car started again. And the adventure is just beginning!

2012 In Review

Last year, I blogged about five of my goals for 2012, and I’m happy to report that I successfully achieved at least part of three of them. I did a terrible job of routinely making meal plans and sticking to them. I need to find a better system. Or not try to work around two people with crazy, often unpredictable schedules. And I didn’t make it down to my goal weight and stay there, in part due to goal number one: Train for and complete a marathon.

I finished Flying Pig Marathon in May, Southern Tennessee Plunge and Marine Corps Marathons in October, and Rocket City Marathon in December. Four marathons in 2012. Crazy town. Training for Flying Pig was tough since I had to work around my on-call weekends, and I probably did not consistently run at a high enough mileage to do that well there, compounded by the very warm weather and my stomach issues. However, it did set me up to lower my times in each successive marathon. I also ran my best friend’s first half marathon with her in Fort Wayne, Indiana, and we had a great time. Joe also completed two half marathons – one at Flying Pig and one at Southern Tennessee Plunge. We’re hoping to do more running together this year.

Goal #2: Do more leisure reading

In my mind, my goal was to read 20 books this year, which I keep track of on Goodreads. By the end of December, I had completed 33 books. Some of my favorites from this year: Katherine Boo’s Behind the Beautiful Forevers; Jana Riess’ Flunking Sainthood: A Year of Breaking the Sabbath, Forgetting to Pray, and Still Loving My Neighbor; Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl; Lauren Winner’s Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis; Jesmyn Ward’s Salvage the Bones; and Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run.

Goal #3: Work on our house

We didn’t end up doing any major renovations or anything, but we finally tackled some of the closets and cabinets that had gotten out of control. I’ve tried to cull things from my closet that I don’t wear anymore. All of those running shoes can really add up!

Not on the goal list:

I was ordained as an Episcopal priest in April! It was a great weekend full of friends and family and celebration.

I finished my CPE residency at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital. I was sad to leave my stint as a chaplain there since it’s such a wonderful place. I learned so much about myself and my ministry and who and where God is calling me to be between August 2011 and August 2012, and I am immensely thankful for that experience.

Joe and I traveled to Portland and the Willamette Valley in April and Hawaii in November, not to mention the trips to Washington D.C., Fort Wayne, Huntsville, Cincinnati, and Fort Myers. A big travel year!

This beautiful big boy joined our family in March. I wasn’t sure how our other cats would do, but now I can’t imagine our house without Stitch.

And I was appointed as priest-in-charge of Episcopal Church of the Epiphany in Lebanon, TN. It’s scary and wonderful, and I love the congregation. I couldn’t be in a better place.

Those are definitely the highlights. It’s also been a rough and tough year in a lot of ways. Joe was out of the country for an entire month and then started a very demanding fellowship in July. There have been some growing pains in our marriage as we’ve worked out together where our lives are right now, but it hasn’t been easy.

Here’s hoping 2013 has fewer major life changes!

Spicy Pumpkin Soup

Pumpkin is normally more of a fall thing, but we had a warmer December and I had some cans of pumpkin in the cabinet that I never ended up using during prime pumpkin season. Abby posted that she had made this recipe from Make it Naked, which put it on my radar as something quick and easy for a weeknight meal. In between fun social gatherings that always centered around food, I was glad to have a home cooked, lighter meal to break up the heavy restaurant food. When I gave Joe the choice of cheesy beer bread or cornbread as an accompaniment, he quickly picked the beer bread. It took considerably longer for the beer bread to bake than did the soup.

I used Penzey’s hot curry powder (my favorite) to up the heat, so ours had quite a kick, though you can adjust the cayenne based on how spicy you like it. The Greek yogurt also has a cooling effect.

Spicy Pumpkin Soup
source: Make it Naked
Serves 4 as a main course

Ingredients

2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon curry powder
1 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/8-1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
2 cups low sodium vegetable broth
15 ounces pumpkin puree
6 ounces light coconut milk
1/2 cup Greek yogurt, for garnish (optional)
Fresh parsley or cilantro, chopped, for garnish (optional)

Preparation

1. In a large stock pot or Dutch oven, heat the olive oil. Add the onion and garlic. Cook until the onion is translucent. Stirring occasionally as not to burn the garlic. Stir in the spices. Cook for at least one minute letting the spices get aromatic.
2. Add the pumpkin. Whisk in the broth. Bring to a boil.
3. Reduce the heat to low and let simmer for 15 minutes. Add the coconut milk and stir.
4. Remove from heat. Using an immersion blender, puree until smooth. Garnish each serving with a dollop of yogurt and chopped herbs. Add salt and/or pepper to taste.

Rocket City Marathon

In the spirit of the new year, I have a lot of catching up to do on the blog, particularly if I want to get everything in shipshape before I leave for Kenya in less than a week (!!!). So, chronologically, let’s go back to the beginning of December. December 8th to be specific.

Having been talked into running the Southern Tennessee Plunge Marathon in early October as a “training run” by my mother and finishing Marine Corps Marathon in late October, I only needed one other marathon within 90 days of the first one to qualify as a Marathon Maniac. The only catch was that it needed to be on a Saturday (since I work Sunday mornings) and within easy driving distance. My mom, the enabler, proposed Rocket City Marathon in Huntsville, Alabama. After Southern TN went so well, I eventually signed up, though after MCM, I barely ran for about 2 weeks due to recovery and vacation. Even so, my only goal for Rocket City was to finish and qualify for Marathon Maniacs. A particularly good 16 mile training run the Monday after Thanksgiving left me feeling confident.

The morning dawned on the warmer (55-ish degrees) and humid side for December, but at least it was cloudy, keeping the sun from heating us up too much. I hadn’t slept particularly well or eaten particularly well the day before, so I was nervous. Rocket City is on the smaller side (~1500 registered), and everyone looked skinny and fast milling around the lobby of the Holiday Inn. It didn’t help to catch snippets of chatter about prospective Boston qualifying times. I was merely hoping to finish around 5 hours.

 

My parents drove down to cheer me on, and I was surprised to see them around mile 5. I had just started to feel okay after my normal warm-up period. Seeing them gave me a big lift, and the next few miles seemed to fly by as I found some people to run and talk with. Around mile 10 and 11, I realized that the 4:40 pace group was just ahead of me at a water stop. That was much faster than I wanted to be going considering I didn’t want to totally blow up. My mom started running with me at mile 13, and we found ourselves alongside one of the 4:40 pacers. But after clocking a rather fast mile, I made myself slow down, take a short bathroom stop, and we lost them again.

It started to get uncomfortably warm with the breeze now at our backs. I found myself wishing that I was carrying my own water, but the miles kept ticking off. Once we hit 20, I realized I was within striking distance of a PR. So my goal changed from a) just finishing to b) PR and possibly c) sub-4:40. A lot of people were walking, and I took a few short walking breaks, mostly stretching out walking through aid stations. Mom was pushing me, and at one point, I told her that I hated her. Compared to how the people around me looked, I was doing pretty well. Once we hit one mile to the finish line, I took one last walk break and sped up on the downhill to the end. Official time: 4:41:29, a PR by over 2 minutes. They gave me my medal and a hat and a space blanket as I staggered around.

I would highly recommend Rocket City. For me, it was an ideal size – not too big and not too small. There was a lot of community support, from people gathering at playgrounds to neighbors standing out in their yards and cheering. The food at the end of the race was amazing – Moon Pies, ice cream sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly on freshly baked bread and bagels, soup (which would’ve been nice if it had been seasonable weather), and fruit. It’s not the most scenic course, mostly weaving through neighborhoods with one stretch along a bigger road. One of the reasons it’s popular in this area is it’s relatively flat elevation profile, though there is still some roll to the course. The medal, hat, and shirt were high quality, and the logistics (parking, bathrooms, packet pick-up) were easy due to the smaller size.

And now I’m Marathon Maniac #6302!