So here we are. In Kisumu. Carefully plodding through the sticky African mud,. We're ordering a bed-frame from the furniture-making stalls in the misty rain on a Thursday afternoon. The marketplace is a kaleidoscope of damp color. Children wander past. Men push heavy carts loaded with burdens – toiling labors of another day. I watch women exchange greetings and transact business as young ones hug their backs. I wonder what it will be like to live among them and share their stories.
Becky trudges over; her Keens are a sloppy mess. She smiles as she shares the details of the purchase: a handmade bed-frame, carved by roughed hands and a warm heart. A place to lay my head. In my home. In Kenya.