“Rongai! Rongai!”  The conductor of the big bus shouts as the bus maneuvers out of the station.

“How much?” I ask.

“Eighty bob”

“Sawa” I reply as I quickly board. The only available seats are all the way in the back… But I don’t have to wait for it to leave, so it’s worth it.

I take my seat, and think back on the day. It had started just like every other day. But instead of going to work as every other day, I had to go to town. After a board meeting with the 2CBN board, we went to visit our account manager at Pan African Networks – the company we decided to broadcast with. We had scheduled an appointment to go and review the agreement and then sign it so we could go on the air. I remembered how we prayed before signing the agreement committing this project to God, as it really is his project anyway. I think that this might be the only time this man had ever had his clients pray before signing the agreement. Whatever the case I believe that this project will definitely be a witness to all involved.

I look over to the baby sitting on his mother’s lap in the seat next to me. He simply stares at me! I make faces at him, but he simply continues to stare as only babies can!

We finally arrive in Rongai, and as the bus starts making it’s stops I wait in the back until the we reach the end of it’s route at Guare. All the buses stop there, or so I think from the other times I’ve taken the route. When a lot of people get up and start getting out of the bus, I look out and realize that it’s Guare. I move up to the front but other people are moving in and by the time I get up to the door the bus is moving again. The bus drivers says they are coming back to Guare, and for me to just take a seat. I realize I know where this bus is stopping, and from there I can catch a matatu for 20 shillings to my home place. As I look outside I realize it’s raining fairly hard, so I pull out my long sleeve wool shirt and put it on as we reach the end of the route.

Standing by the side of the road in the rain and dark, I have no doubt that people think I’m crazy! But that doesn’t matter. After several minutes I flag down the next matatu. The conductor rattles something off in what sounds like his native tongue. “How much?” I ask. He rattles off again and I board the matatu. There’s no spare seat so I’m stuck in the iron chair position sitting on the edges of two seats with my backpack on my lap. The conductor who is sitting next to me looks at me and says something again in what to me is an unrecognizable accent or different language! I just look at him. This is really unusual in Kenya! All the matatu conductors I’ve seen speak English fine, at least all they need to know. When he gestures with his hands, I understand he is ready for me to pay him. I expected this. “How much?” I ask. “30 bob!” I pretend I didn’t understand and give him 20 shillings.

“10 bob!” He replies, obviously unsatisfied!

“But its just a short distance!” I answer.

“Ah, but it’s raining! I’m giving you a deal! Everyone else is paying 50 from Guare!” So he does speak English!

“But 20 is the rate!”

“But it’s raining outside and you have to run to catch transport so we take advantage of that and charge more!”

Exactly. I think to myself. They just take advantage of people because they don’t want to wait in the rain. I turn to the man seated behind me and ask him how much he’s paying. He’s getting off at the same place as I am. He said he paid 40, but he boarded at Guare. Then I know I’m not just getting the mazungu (white man) price!

“But I don’t mind being in the rain!” I still persist. “Did you see me running? I don’t care about being in the rain!”

“But it doesn’t rain in your place!” He guesses. “You just get this ice stuff!”

“How do you know? It rains in my place too!”

“10 Bob! Before I forget!” I realize that there’s no point in continuing.

“Where are you from anyway?” He now asks. “Germany?”

“You have a lot of Germans here, don’t you?” I answer playing along.

“But which place are you from?” He persists! “France?” By this time nearly everyone in the matatu is chuckling at our interchange! No doubt they are surprised at this mazungu giving this funny conductor a bad time!

“I’m going to let you guess.” I stall, I don’t feel like saying where I’m from.

“Asia or America?” He guesses. “No I know you’re not American!”

“How do you know?” I ask surprised at his conclusion!

He said something about me just not being like an American as we stop at my stop.

Cross-culture interactions are sometimes amusing but a lot of times they also give special opportunities. If we learn to take advantage of each opportunity in the right way, we will be used of God in every situation.

Walking in the cool rain toward my flats appartment, I think how I wish I would have had tracts to give to the people in that matatu. I ran out of the 300 glow tracts I brought with me shortly after coming to this place! Well with the TV station going on the air soon, then that will give me an easy witnessing opportunity. All they have to do is ask what I’m doing here. I pray that the station will reach many people and bring them the hope and love and joy that are found in Jesus and His Word.