Me (Trying my best at) Finding You as You Always Find Me

The King welcoming me back :)

It felt surreal, stepping out of Kenyatta airport and driving by the once familiar animal sculptures as we head towards the city centre.  I thought that had things worked out as they should, this would have been home for the family for the past 4 years – just what my contract then had stipulated.  This year, could have been “review” year to check if it would still be relevant as a work-base.  But then, pandemic happened and the rest is history. 

Yesterday was Pentecost Sunday. Before coming here, I knew I would have to try to attend an actual Mass.  I’ve reminded the children to make sure to do so as well.  Was happy they did. In my case, it was a bit eventful.  As seems to be my usual when traveling. 

Despite traveling for more than 24 hours, I immediately checked for Catholic churches near me and the schedule of Masses. I thought I could go to Kileleshwa, as I did in the past but the website advised it is already closed.  I came across The Holy Family Basilica which is 27 minutes away by foot but just 3 mins by car.  For some reason, my data roaming wasn’t working so I could not access Bolt or Uber.  I settled to just have an online Mass and started listening to the Ateneo Davao one. Still, it did not feel the same.  I rushed to wash up, change and asked front desk to help me get a ride.  They said it will cost me 10 USD.  I was happy to pay for it.  Eventually though, Bridgette, the hotel receptionist booked me an uber ride for just 200 KSh.  She also offered to change my big bills so I would not have trouble when paying for the fare.  The problem then was how to get back. She told me that I could ask someone from church to help me get a ride back.  I’m not sure I could do it and Bridgette told me to just text her “done” after Mass and she would text me back the plate number of the taxi.  We found out my SMS was working.

I was quite happy to have made it to church.  I’ve never been to the Cathedral in the time I was based here.  I’ve been to Westland’s Mother of Perpetual Help Parish several times.  The Holy Trinity Catholic Church in Kileleshwa was another one I frequented. In fact, it was the last Mass I attended before leaving Nairobi for the UK.  I was asked to do the First Reading at that time and I felt so blessed.  It was also a Filipino community celebration of Sinulog. 

It was supposed to just be a GHT-KMEAL meeting for a week in Oxford.  Then I had to be in Serbia to lead a Learning Review.  After a week there, I flew straight to Manila and then to Cotabato back home for another workshop.  Yes, not even Davao.  I was back home after a week, in time to celebrate Mama’s 1^st year death anniversary.  I would have left back for Nairobi, the day after.  And come back a month after to take Tatay and the children all the way to Nairobi and our apartment waiting for them.  (It took me awhile to find and furnish one).

But things have a way of turning out. On the day of my scheduled flight, Covid was declared a pandemic and all countries closed their doors. Technically, I was a returning resident of Kenya but would not have wanted to sit Covid down, on my own in the apartment while my entire family was back home.  Ah, all the uncertainties at that time.  And now, everything seems to be back to normal.  Like that particular period did not happen at all.  (Really hoping the lessons learned, insights and reflections arrived at, at that time would not be forgotten at all!  Like how fragile life is… how things could change in an instant… how one does not really have control over anything, no matter how much we obsess about doing so…)

Anyhow, I digress… so after the Mass, I tried to send a text to Bridgette but even that was not working a bit. I mustered by courage and approached someone. I tried 3 times but always lose my nerve.  It was dark already and I remember security guidance for Nairobi. Good thing someone helped me and got me an Uber.  Still, I was fretful inside while taking the ride.  The hotel was quite “interior” and a bit challenging to find.  As I was looking at the buildings we were passing by, I tired to recall if I’ve went past them earlier.  I only felt relieved when I was back at the hotel’s entrance.  Whew!

I know it was a foolish thing to  have risked it but yeah, having had Communion and heard Mass felt like coming full circle.  Mass when I was last here, Mass when I got back.  It’s just that I always feel thoroughly blessed and that He always finds me wherever I may be.  I am just returning the favour… that and the fact that I always feel on a drift and anchorless if I don’t start my week right…

Here in Nairobi for a week… Looking forward to all the learning and the experience. Thank you, Abba, for all the favours and the grace, each and every time.  Extremely grateful. 

 

 

Today. Aleppo.

I groaned when I noted that the clock reads 5 am'ish. I slept late the night before, pushing myself to the limit trying to finish a report with the remaining ounce of energy left in me. I'm on my last week of this deployment and as always the case, my energy tap is already close to depletion. The last few days would be like the final sprint. I was torn between wanting to go back to sleep and just going to the gym to run as I was not able to, the night before, having attended Mass and heading straight to dinner afterwards. But the church beckons. I did not take the communion the night before. I was not able to follow the Mass well as it was in Arabic. I listened intently though and was able to discern a few of the messages. But as to actual comprehension, enough to touch my heart, did not have that. So I've forgone the communion. I did know that the Roman Catholic church next to it would have an 8 am Mass the next day. So this morning, I found myself changing for church (and office get-up) instead. Before that, I was doing Mommy-duty, talking to rod about his university plans... When we walked into the church, the priest was already at the altar and about to start. Apart from the two commentator in front, the church was empty. I grew a bit self-conscious so decided to sit at the back pew. Mid-way through, there were 2 other who came in, intermitently. Around gospel time I just felt the tears come, unbidden. It felt as if the Mass was held "especially" for me. Although of course that is not the case. But having just a few of us there, it did feel that way. Who would have thought that I'd find myself attending Mass and receiving communion in Aleppo, in Syria. What are the odds? I am remembering being part of a joint RTR for Haiyan and having a fellow team member speaking about the sorry state of Syria then. I remember sharing related posts over the years, as the war waged on, year after year. And then suddenly here I am, serving a 3-month deployment. I feel grateful. After the Mass, went straight to the office, facilitated a workshop for 2 major sessions. I did not have to do it. Strictly speaking, it was not part of my TOR. It's going an extra mile on my part. But anyone who knows me, know that I do take my job seriously. Simply because, my job exists because there are people in need. Horrendous as that may sound, it is indeed true isn't it? Humanitarian work could be the most draining and demanding job. It doesnt have to be all the time. But I find myself, pushing myself, putting in extra on top of extra every time. Because, I feel I had to. My job is not about selling pancakes where my only concern would have to be how tasty it is going to be; how fluffy and fresh... It is about touching people's lives. Albeit with my role, a bit more "indirect" and a bit "removed" from the actual day to day community work. After the workshop, there were two meetings that I had to attend to as well. I found myself dozing off on the second one.Then after the workshop, checking out the bazar for local, indigenous products on display at the hotel. Then went back to my room to do a bit of work. A few emails after, I found myself walking towards a concert. Imagine all that. Take about a full day indeed. Thank you,God.