house on fire

well, i wasn't sure what to call this blog. so, why not be straight forward?

my house started on fire on saturday and my kitchen is toast, the rest of my house is black, and everything i own stinks like burned plastic.

but i'm okay. for now. i think.

in fact, i can see clearly how God was working in all this. now don't get me wrong. God didn't burn my house down. and i know he is all-knowing and infinite and everything and could have miracously stopped the fire, or even prevented it. and i am not happy my house burned, but i believe there is a purpose for everything. and i saw a whole lot of purposes.

let's get back to the dirt bike. because it has a part or purpose in it. i was having trouble starting it yesterday. something with it being brand new, apparently they don't like starting. my friends gardener went and found a british guy in their neighbourhood who apparently knows about motorbikes. he came over got it started and then gave me an x games lesson on how to ride a dirt bike. i learned more from him in an hour than any and all kenyan lessons combined. he took me for a freakin crazy ride - we were literally flying through giant ditches, mud, gravel, slamming on brakes. he is a little ADD but he both encouraged me and scared the daylights out of me. but good ideas on how to avoid getting pancaked by a semi truck while trying to go around herds of cows and bicycles.

so, with his advice, i went riding on the dirt roads in the farms this morning pretending to be a mini carey hart, minus flying in the air and breaking all my bones. i was riding in and out of ditches, through big crusty mud patches. pretending like i owned the place. i stopped over at the chiefs house as i hadn't been there in the 9 months i have lived in the village. we are sitting there chatting and my phone rings. i hate answering my phone while having interesting conversations, so i silenced it and kept talking. a minute later it rings again and i see that it is my colleague at the hospital. i find that strange as she never calls me on a saturday. the chief said "go ahead, answer, it's no problem." so i say, "hey esther, what's going on?"

"your house is on fire!!" she says breathlessly.

"my house is on fire!!??"

i literally leaped across the room and raced to my bike. i rode like mad back to my house. and thanks to my self-imposed x-games morning lesson, i rode with confidence and aggression. even the cows got out of the way!! (for real)

i kept watching the horizon for billowing smoke. it's hard to concentrate on pot holes when you imagine your house burning down. and i realized how selfish i was in that moment. my first thought was not of "is anyone hurt?"

but "i hope my mac isn't on fire!!"

then, "i just bought all those beads to make jewelery with the women. what are we going to make now?"

i ripped up to the house to see a small crowd but no shooting flames. okay, good sign.

i ran to the back of the house to see smoke coming out of the kitchen and people standing around saying "pole" (sorry).

the fridge and my very nice microwave are toast (yes, i do not have running water but i have a microwave. so i am a lazy cook), the kettle melted into something resembling a cake, the paint is burned off one wall.

but i cannot be more thankful.

yes, thankful. my kitchen burned, right after i had finished painting it a beautiful white and red, but i am blessed.

the doctors wife happened to walk by at a time when she was not planning to and noticed the fire. she alerted my neighbour, also the hospital maintenance guy, who happened to refuse to drive some people to town that day, feeling like he had to stay at the hospital. he is one of the only people who knew where a working fire extinguisher was and put out the fire. the fact that a fire extinguisher at the hospital worked is also a miracle!

i wasn't home and therefore not hurt. the half full gas tank standing in the middle of the fire did not blow, which would have surely leveled the house. it happened during the day and not at night when i was sleeping and may have suffered or been killed by smoke inhalation. i was prepared to ride my dirt bike like a bat out of hell because a brit happened to scare me into it the day before. and God knew what was important to me. my mac is not burned, and my coffee bodum is still standing on my kitchen counter perfectly intact, still with coffee in it. my mountain bike is covered in black soot but still waiting patiently for me to ride it. all my clothes stink like burned plastic, but i can provide income to some local women to wash everything in my house.

i also believe there is a greater purpose in all of this. i will experience personal growth, of course, in trusting that God has a plan. a couple of things have struck me. the devastation of a fire is strange. and fires were on the top of the list of damage done during post-election crisis. people's homes and properties were burned to the ground. i now have a small taste of what is like to lose something you've worked for. it was a bit traumatizing and the fire was not even deliberately set. but perhaps now, i have a sense of empathy for the victims of the recent violence that i did not have before.

it is also a way to build relationships with people in the community. you see, i have been told that people generally believe that nothing bad happens to white people. that they are all rich, they never get sick, they have no worries. i have had several experiences that have helped them see otherwise. i burned my leg quite badly earlier this year, and they had not seen a white person's flesh before. they exclaimed "it looks just like our flesh!"

a few weeks ago, i tripped and completely biffed in town. i was flying through the air, arms flapping, trying not to fall. but i skidded through the gravel and ended up with a bleeding arm and a bruised ego. people just stopped and stared. they were literally stunned, frozen. no one moved to offer a hand. when i recounted this to my colleague, she laughed and said "we don't believe white people fall. or get hurt. we believe they are perfect."

my massive tumble was a demonstration that white people can also demonstrate poor coordination:-)

my home starting on fire, and me starting to cry on arrival really demonstrated my vulnerability. as a person. as a child of God. i am not the invincible white person who has everything going for them all the time. i also suffer tragedy, i experience pain, i shed tears. and i think it might be a powerful witness and a growth in my relationship with the community. it might be a stretch but i think that potential is there.

so, i am blessed. i am blessed that i am alive. i am blessed that it was only my kitchen. i am blessed that my mac computer, my ipod, and my bodum are all intact:-) i am blessed to have the genuine concern and care of so many people. i am blessed that for this moment, i can see the positive change in an unfortunate situation. i am blessed.

see photos...

http://picasaweb.google.com/alidafernhout/HouseOnFire

p.s. from the home office: see the link to the left if you would like to make a donation to alida... (note the donation will not go directly to me, rather to my work...)