Consistent hard rain has brought consistent sloppy mud. With my short walk to work my shoes are pancaked with mud. A stick does the job as I sit and chat with David and Neto over the paper. Prior to the stick, I do the grass shuffle across the lawn to loosen up whatever mud may be removed by wet grass and pray that I did not get mud on my pants. Almost always the mud starts to come off and my pants have varying amounts of splatter. When it is dry the red clay gets on everything. What was once white becomes red. My sneakers are just about to completely blend in by now. The mud is a whole different baboon. It stays to shoes, brings dirt into our house and kitchen, and keeps the bottom of my pants with constant mud. Needless to say, sidewalks and paved roads are missed.
Outside of the morning commute and the 4pm downpour, life continues to move at a quicker pace. Next Friday we will be back in Nairobi for our second retreat. All will remain in Nairobi for the week and I will get to join my family on a week-long vacation. By the time I get back to Malava, I will have roughly 100 days left in Kenya.
Seeing the end so clearly has become a strange feeling. Three months in the year poured out like the mountains that surround me. Direction existed, but I have no idea where they go or what is on the other side. Now I can see the end. There is considerably less time left than passed. I am happy to have the reality of returning home, but feel overwhelmed by the fact that my time here is so short. It is not in the I-have-not-done-enough-yet sort of way. More like the strangeness that there is actually an ending. In January, one year seemed like a long time. Now, it seems too short.