Let me introduce Rueben

Blog post #4 from the deleted files of “Where the Sky Meets the Sand”.

Today’s installment of the “lost files” occurs fairly late in the book, chapter 26. Rueben was the unsavory manager of the safari camp where the businesswoman befriended the lost boy. As I keep reading over all these deleted scenes, I start to wonder why I didn’t leave them in, make it work. Well, maybe it was so that I could share them all with you here.

I haven’t gotten my supply of books to sell yet, but you can order “Where the Sky Meets the Sand” from Amazon.com and you’ll probably get it in the mail around the same time that I get mine. Or download it now and start reading today. 

Oh, and the picture is from Narok when I road through there in October 2015.

Rueben crawled into his Jeep and took one last look up the street. People crowded the sidewalks, heading in every direction, a buzz of humanity. Where they were always going, he did not know.

He thought about the many times he had visited this dirty busy town. The tourists heading out on safari, the locals taking advantage of as many of them as they could. The women looking to do anything they could for any money they could.

He sighed. Even the thought of the brothel down the road did little for him. Maybe I really am sick. First no booze and now no women. He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts.

On the seat next to him were all of his possession, little though they were. A few changes of clothes and that was really all. He rubbed a hand across his rough hair. Where had his life gone? What had all the years of driving across the plains, showing the tourists a good time done to him? And why was he so alone after all of that?

He started the engine of the Jeep and shifted into gear. As he turned the first corner at the end of the street, his pile of clothes shifted and slid to the floor. Left behind on the seat was the book he had taken from the abandoned hut at Red Rock Camp.

Without looking where he was going, he pulled the jeep to the side of the road. That book. What was it even about and why now in the middle of Narok, in the middle of the street did he have to pick it up?

He tentatively opened the first page.

“This very day in David's town your Savior was born.”

Rueben looked around him. The street had suddenly gone quiet. People still scurried about and vehicles of every shape and size drove up and down the road. But all noise seemed to have stopped. The only sound Rueben heard was the sound of his own words in his head.

“You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

He studied the pictures on the page. A young woman, a tiny baby. He turned the page and beautiful men and women filled the page, dark-skinned men and women dressed in glistening white.

“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace on earth to those with whom he is pleased!”

He continued reading the book, studying each page, each picture, saying the words out loud. All around him people kept walking by and cars and trucks rumbled by, but Rueben didn’t hear any of them.

I'm riding in what?

            When I went to Kenya the first time, back in 2006, the highlight of our trip was the stay in Massailand. We worked and played for several days at Mosiro, running a medical clinic and doing health education for the Maasai who live there.

            This time in Kenya, my daughter Val and I visited a different place in Maasailand. The town was called Saikeri and the road there was as tenuous, though shorter, than the road to Mosiro. But upon arrival, just like Mosiro, I instantly knew that the trip had been worth it.

            This is how we got to Saikeri.

            We left the volunteer house around ten in the morning, took a matatu to Nakumatt Junction and then a city bus to Ngong. Ngong is a bit like Narok – very busy, with a mix of modern and Maasai. It is the last vestige of civilization before heading down out of the Ngong Hills and into the Rift Valley.

            Our ride to Saikeri, Maggie, said she would meet us at the corner in front of Barclay Bank. As if she had nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, she suggested we stop at a café for chai tea and samosas.

            I’d had chai at Nakumatt Junction and had been so disappointed. It tasted like the chai which I made at home and nothing like what I remembered drinking in Kenya the last time. Now here at Ngong, I thought, finally, really chai. But it wasn’t to be; this still didn’t taste right. At least the beef samosas were good.

            After visiting and finishing our snack, Maggie directed us to the Naivas grocery store so we could get some last supplies to take with us into the Bush. Maggie left us there while she went off to run some errands.

            With our meager purchases crammed in our backpacks we waited patiently at the designed spot and soaked up the ambience of Ngong. Ok, there is no ambience in Ngong, just a lot of people and traffic, dust and noise. 

            Finally Maggie came back and took us to the vehicle we were to ride out to Saikeri. It was a two-wheel drive, compact, ancient Toyota pickup. The bed was half-full of supplies and Maggie suggested that I ride in the cab with her.

            Val naturally thought I should get the full Kenyan experience, so suggested I ride in the bed of the truck with her. That sounded fine to me. How bad could it be? I grew up riding in the back of my dad’s Chevy.

            Oh, but it got bad. First off, Maggie took off to run another errand. While we waited, people kept coming up to the truck and setting boxes and bags in the back of it. Then they would just walk off. I kept asking myself, do they know what they are doing and where this stuff is going?

            Then two older Maasai women came along and crawled into the bed of the truck. Then another hundred pounds worth of supplies were dropped in. Two more Maasai women and a Maasai girl clambered in.

            I said, “Val, maybe we better get in before they run out of room.” So we sat on the boards which were across the wheels on each side and waited some more, while more supplies and more people crowded in.

            All total, by the time we left, an hour later, there were nine people in the bed of the truck, two boys on the roof of the cab and three people in the cab, along with hundreds of pounds of boxes, bags and loaves of bread. There was no longer any room in the back of the truck, so we road on the side hanging for dear life to the thin railing running along the box.

            After being in Ngong for what had to be hours (this is why you don't wear a watch in Kenya, it just makes for more frustration), it was time to head into the Bush. Check back on Tuesday to see how that went.