Africa Journal Posting 6

Mombasa 'Bob'

When we pulled into the service center to get petrol, Marilyn Bush was behind the wheel driving us through Mombasa. We were a happy bunch enjoying the afternoon together.

I noticed the man first as he pulled his tricycle up to our car. His tricycle was powered by his arms using two cranks that he turned with his hands. The cranks were attached to two sprockets that drove the long chains to the back wheels. His legs hung limply down from his seat without power to walk. The knees of his pants were well worn with the red dust of the ground – likely from sliding along to reach his tricycle.

He starred quietly at Marilyn as she ordered her fuel. Then he looked past Marilyn into the back seat and locked eyes with me. We saw each other at that moment and knew each other though we had not spoken.

In order to write about him I will give him the name 'Bob'. My uncle was Bob as well. My uncle Bob was a cripple too sitting for 69 years in his wheel chair in southern Saskatchewan – a million miles from this spot.

When the gas station attendant had finished her job of filling the tank Marilyn paid her in Kenyan Schillings. Then Marilyn reached out her hand an gave the man her handful of Schillings. She also gave 'Bob' a bag of peanuts that she keeps for the people like 'Bob'.

His smile was all the thanks we needed.

There is no 'home care' in Africa for guys like 'Bob'. There is 'side of the road care', 'service station care' and 'make-it-on-your-own' care. No home care where the well trained Personal Support Worker gets you up in the morning, baths you, dresses you, and even helps you prepare your breakfast. There is no PSW to reverse all this in the evening – NOT LIKE CANADA.

As I have been thinking about Mombasa 'Bob' his accessibility demands are few. He only needs a service station where the attendants won't chase him away. A service station where he can maneuver his tricycle from pump to pump without the huge tanker trucks that come will not run over him.

I am now 9 hours away from Mombasa 'Bob'. He is not in my world anymore – except in a powerful memory. He will never know the comfort of my world either. He is safe. But where does he sleep? Where does he bath? Where are his parents? Does he have any siblings? Some one must have helped to make this tricycle to get around on – who was it?

Africa is only a tourist stop when it zooms by the bus window or stands beside your missionary vehicle. The really dangerous part is not the wild animals, weird bugs, or the thieves that break into your home. The dangerous part is when its people get a name and they become a part of your life. Or they look you in the eyes and touch you.

~ Pastor Murray Lincoln ~

PS- Again - In our guest house on the wall above the table hangs a sign that says, “A friend is one who strengthens you with prayer, Blesses you with love, and Encourages you with Hope.”