"Almost there..."

After we left the Compassion center at Ewuaso Kdong, the road – if you can call it that – quickly deteriorated. When we came to a dried up riverbed, it was decided that we would get out and walk across. On another steep hill, we again got out and walked up it as the overloaded bus couldn’t quite make it otherwise.

Then there was the dust. With the windows closed, it immediately got beastly hot inside the bus. With the windows open however, on the dry path we traveled, dust came swirling in and settled most thickly on the kids in the back of the bus.

At times it felt surreal, like we had been kidnapped and were being driven to our end. A friend had given me an inflatable, horseshoe-shaped pillow, the kind you would use to wrap around your neck while sleeping in the car. Instead, I’m not too proud to tell you, I sat on it. Over all the heinous bumps we drove over, it really helped my bottom and my back.

When we arrived at Mosiro, at 9:30, in the black of an African night, we still didn’t quite think this was all going to turn out right. Where had we been taken? We set up our tents in the dark and by flashlight, were led to the outhouse. If you could call it an outhouse, but more on that later.

But when morning came . . . .