Market day

Maasai market in Bissil

If you look closely, you can see the traditional Maasai man. They are the ones wearing short "skirts". The women here only wear full length skirts.

My exhaustion has crept along at a steady pace. The hazy disconnected feeling becoming unbearable, I pass on lunch, hoping to close my eyes for a moment before our afternoon session. Curling up on the bed, my eyes covered by my hair, I think of my mom and how I have seen her sleep this way. I haven't been able to reach any of my family.

"Rheba, it's time to go!"

I wonder how the lunch hour went by so quickly as we head back to the little tent church.

Ilene is now pumped up. Refreshed and excited.

She stands and tells the congregation,

"I came here thinking I was going to pray for the sick. What happened? I had to come all the way to Africa just to get healed."

She proceeds to tell them about her kidneys and all she had been through to get to Kenya.

Then she tells them about the Pastor's meeting and how we all prayed for her and her kidneys were healed. I felt like I was watching Eilene come alive for the first time on the trip. She was on fire. Her deep southern drawl adding emphasis to everything she said.

"I felt my kidneys get all hot and start to move! God can heal you!"

At the end of the meeting we began to pray for people. Almost the entire congregation came forward. I closed my eyes and just tried to hear God. I touched hands, hugged, kissed, cried and sometimes just prayed silently. I looked up and saw a woman waiting for me. She had a rash over her whole face. She would not take her eyes from me.

An old woman, traditional in her dress, stood before me. I instantly put my hands on her face and softly covered her eyes. The thick smell of charcoal was surrounding her. Later, I would see that my hands and cheeks were smudged with charcoal residue.

I asked her if she was blind.

There was no response.

I motioned for the woman behind her to come forward.

"Do you know, is she blind?"

She shrugged and asked the question in Maasai.

"Yes mum, she is blind."

I prayed.

I continued to pray until I heard Nelly ending the meeting.

I looked up to see the girl with the rash turn and go. I wanted to chase after her, but she was gone before I could plow my way through the people.

It was market day in Bissil. Everyone was out. Vendors staked claim on various plots of dirt, throwing down a blanket and topping it with their wares.

I walked out of the tent to see the vibrant spread of people, smells... color.

Instantly, the opportunity to meander through the chaos overtook my desire to sleep.

"Oh, NELLY! Will you bring me to the market?" I stifle the, 'can we, can we?'

We dropped the others back at their rooms and Nelly, Samson and I headed to the market.

I tell Nelly that I really want to find some fabric to take back and maybe she could negotiate for me.

Instead, she takes me down an alley and through a corrugated tin gate.

"I want you to see Purity's house first."

Purity is a member of the congregation. She has big ringlets that remind me of my daughter, Olivia, and a bright, beaded dress. Nelly tells me that she has 7 or 8 grandchildren and that her husband is dead. Purity looks 40, maybe even younger.

Her house is built of corrugated tin. There are 3 couches, a chair and an entertainment center. She has a variety of rugs and tables covering the floor, so I can't tell if it is packed dirt or concrete. No kitchen, just a sheet covering the doorway to her bedroom.

Purity has tea that is prepared, so I realize I have been expected. I sit, dazed, knowing I should accept the tea, but saying no instead. Nelly asks me to pray. I obey, but am unsure what I am supposed to be praying for. As we stand to leave, a few of the Pastors walk in. They too, knew I would be there. They converse in Maasai. I look back and forth wondering what will come next.

Samson, Nelly and Purity

Nelly informs me that many of the Pastors have to leave to go back to the interior and they want me to pray for them. A total of about 10 Pastors have found their way into Purity's home. They sit and look at me expectantly. I think of how strange it is that I am standing before these leaders and they are looking to... me.

I am humbled and tell them through tears about God speaking to me in the night. I tell them how I was to anoint the feet of everyone in the church and since they would not be there, would they allow me to do it now. Nobody speaks.

They look at each other, bend down and unlace their shoes. There feet, dusty and worn.

Dry.

I go from foot to foot and pray as I anoint each Pastor.

Some have their hands clasped, heads bowed. Others stare straight into my eyes as I come to them, their glare, piercing.

The room, silent.

Nelly stands and motions for me to come.

The sunlight and sounds of the market, pull me back to the street.

I dodge piles of poo, urine and garbage, looking at the sandals made from tire treads. Fabric thrown over ropes, strung, tree to tree. Clothing, beads, fruit and vegetables have been brought in to sell.

There is a circle of Maasai men. They are huddled like football players. I ask Nelly why.

"This is the way they speak to each other. They are just having conversation."

I desperately want a picture, but the spears in hand dissuade me.

I find some beautiful fabric and ask Nelly to inquire about.

She speaks to the vendor and all but spits in disgust as she pulls me away.

"They see this skin" she says as she touches my arm.

"They try to take advantage."

I nod, sure that their price is still lower than I would pay in the US.

We are approached by a tall man. He runs up shouting, "I've been HEALED! I've been HEALED!"

He had been standing at the back in church as everyone had gotten prayer, too shy to come forward. Nelly had seen him and called him forward saying that she thought something was wrong with his shoulder. He had not been able to use his arm because of excruciating pain, so we prayed for him.

He keeps touching me. "it's better, see?"

"YES!" I say, watching him rotate his shoulder.

"You are very pretty."

Ummmm.... "thanks".

"very, very beautiful."

"Yes, my husband thinks so too."

I wonder if I am going to have to borrow one of the Maasai spears.

He proceeds to follow us through the market, jumping up and down, excited to repeat that he is healed.

I think of the blind woman. Can she now see?