Sump'tings wrong with Henry - Episode 2

Henry was swamped with curious villagers by the time I reached him. My appearance brought even more people out to stare. Hoards of kids crept closer, giggling and jostling each other. A bevy of men encircled the van, loudly discussing we know not what. The problem? The solution? Or the crazy mzungus driving it!

A gentle tug on my elbow introduced Pastor David, enquiring solicitously as to whether I was frightened or disturbed by the noisy, chaotic crowds. I was delighted to assure him not at all, I quite understood the curiosity value of the situation which would doubtless become village talk for months to come. Pastor David said he'd called for a mechanic he knew, a reliable local and soon the fundi arrived and disappeared under Henry.

Pastor David in the suit and pink shirt

Overwhelmed by the attention and stares, Him Outdoors and I retired to a little pub, hoping to find a bit of quiet. No such luck - the No Under 18's sign kept the kids out, but the over 18's poured in to stare and take photos. Defeated, we left to walk around the village, trailed by about 60 kids like some modern day Pied Pipers. Over walls and under gates, they arrived to add to the throng.

The crumpled sump emerged looking rather sad but Pastor David had it all in hand. He'd summoned a colleague with a car to take us, the mechanic and himself to the closest small town, about 30 kms away on a winding gravel road. The small Toyota stoically bore all 5 of us and in due course we arrived at the welder in Miharati. The welder took charge of the sump while HO and I were taken to the little motor spares shop, open (as everything else 
in the town was) at 7pm on a Sunday evening. Purchasing the required diesel oil and some special silicon type stuff, we meandered around until we found a supermarket and tried to buy something to eat. The worst potato crisps we've ever eaten and some sugar biscuits turned into both Sunday supper and Monday breakfast. One does what one can with what is at hand!

Having said that, Pastor Jimmy messaged to ask if we were overcoming our challenge and offered to deliver blankets and a meal. Bowled over by this kindness we declined, not wanting to be more of a nuisance that we already were. The willing kindness continued to flow in - the welder, operating by the light of a mobile phone torch, did a wonderful job for the measly sum of $15!

That job, which took over an hour on a Sunday night, was absolutely perfect. Not only that, but repairing the thing saved a huge expense and big job of replacing the sump, which would surely have been the city option. The mechanic asked us to buy him a torch, which would enable him to fit the sump cover on our return. But it was already after 8.30pm and the poor man had been working since 5pm; we didn't feel it was a fair option, kind as it was and said we'd sleep in Henry and begin again in the morning.

About an hour later HO and I were opening a bottle of red wine and chomping crisps and biscuits in the romantic orange light given off by the lamp shining through a kikoy we'd used to cover a window. It was pretty romantic, I must say. 

Early Monday we arose and set up our coffee brewing station on the pavement. We can't face the day without a cup of Jacobs! While we polished off the last of the biscuit and inhaled the magic aroma, the fundi arrived with an assistant and men on their way to milk their cows or graze their sheep stopped for a chat and to offer advice.

Within 30 minutes Henry roared to life and we began our farewells. He purred like a cheetah, galloping up the miles to Nairobi and is once again in magnificent shape. Yup, we paid every man and his dog - truck hire, manpower, mechanic, taxi, tow drivers, welder and so on but it worked out a fraction of what it would have cost in SA to get a tow from the middle of nowhere, store the car overnight and find accommodation and then, for sure, the sump would have been replaced. Repair is something we don't do much of in sophisticated societies.

Life is a wonderful thing. Not once during the entire experience did HO or I feel threatened or concerned. We had water, coffee makings, a good bed, money in our Mpesa account (a fabulous Kenyan invention, mobile money). I was tense with worry about getting Henry up those hills but the magnificent villagers did the job. We met people eager to hear about us and where we were from, keen to show us Alice's grave (we declined, being ready for showers and rather anxious about Henry being able to cover the distance home.) 

It also gave us a marvellous opportunity to be grilled and to grill in return the culture differences between 'you people' (meaning us, in Pastor David's words!) and our saviours and hosts. It was refreshing to have an open, exploratory conversation and discussion about the pros and cons of each side. We especially enjoyed the horrified response to the number of children we had - they genuinely pitied us and couldn't understand WHY we'd had so few. At least 4 appears to be the consensus, we are somewhat short.

The most amazing feature of all of this for me was the casual, relaxed, accepting way in which HO and I shrugged off a calamity. In return, our African Angels delivered a bush miracle. Trusting in people and that a solution will be delivered paid off.

There is no end to the marvel of this incredible continent, which continues to disprove popular, Western opinion. Africa is as far from being a "shithole country"(?! - continent, President Trump!) as America is from truly understanding the complexities and marvels of this very special part of our planet.