But all I hear is the constant *beep, Beep, BEEP*
I slowly creep out of my bottom bunk bed,
Eyes barely open, trying not to hit my head.
I swiftly scurry to the bottom floor,
And roll open the big sliding glass door.
I groggily ask, “Are the Kenyans here?”
Someone quickly replies, “No, they’re not even near.”
I wait patiently for Patrick to bring out the food,
Bread again? *Ugh* I’m SO not in the mood.
They said they’d be here some time ago,
But it’s Africa time, so we never really know.
Eventually they stroll in with smiling faces,
For worship and prayer we take our places.
After singing loudly to the Heavens above,
We board the church bus that I deeply love.
The front seat is where you get the best show,
I scramble up there and stub my big toe.
“Is Daniel driving, or is it Fred today?”
Fred hops into the seat, I can’t hide my dismay.
Fred’s a good driver, don’t get me wrong,
However, he stalls out a lot and the rides are Sooo lonnng.
He takes a right onto the main drag,
The other cars screech loudly… I hold my bag.
We’re stuck in a jam, the same story yet again,
Fred tries passing the cars, as if there’s a race to win.
Distracted by the Afande (police officer) from the window I greet,
I don’t even notice the dirt road the bus is about to meet.
The wheels are heading straight for a bump,
I guard my head to avoid getting a lump.
I hear a loud yelp from a seat in the back,
One of my teammates couldn’t escape the sudden attack.
Fred’s grinning from ear to ear,
“Silly Americans, can’t handle the roads here.”
We pass a village with burning piles of trash,
Fred swerves into traffic to avoid a crash.
A lone person walks across the street,
The bus almost hits him, death within feet.
As the one-lane road narrows a car appears at our side,
Fred juts to the shoulder TRYING to keep a smooth ride.
In an attempt to retaliate, the pace begins to quicken,
Little does the oncoming driver know we’re about to play chicken.
We stand our ground ’til the last second arrives,
Doesn’t he realize we don’t have nine lives?
Everyone cheers as we safely pass,
The road is wide open and Fred steps on the gas.
I begin to see pavement and my heart jumps with joy,
For a while I felt driven by a twelve-year-old boy.
We finally reach our Kiserian project site,
The darkness has ended and I can see the light.
I jump off the bus and figuratively kiss the ground,
Then I realize another journey awaits, homeward bound.
As you can tell, the rules of the road in Kenya are slim,
Parents, don’t read too far into this poem… it was written on a whim.
Although the ride is… adventurous… we’re in good hands,
God’s in control and we trust in His plans.
I struggled to find a topic for my blog so I decided to get creative. Don’t worry the bus rides aren’t that bad but I needed to add a little dramatic effect to make the poem better. By the way Marla helped me write this poem. Writing this brought us back to our creative late nights at Virginia Tech! It also provided us with some entertainment on our day off.
God Bless,
Elizabeth
P.S. Mom, Dad & Sarah I miss you and am having a great time! See you in about a month:) I’m staying safe and learning a lot. Unfortunately I will not be able to email for two more weeks. I will be updating my blog though so keep commenting.
Kaitlyn sorry I haven’t been able to email you back:( I am counting down the days until we are reunited at Chipotle. Hope your summer is going well and I will continue to pray for you. LOVE YOU.
