Today we flew into Eldoret and then, in two nine-passenger vehicles, drove three hours to the outskirts of Kitale. Here is where I saw Kenya, truly. We were met at the airport by Helen and Richard Makani, Rebecca, and various other folks who help with the orphanage. Overwhelmingly kind people. Constant smiles. They love to laugh. I have a feeling this is going to be an incredible journey with them.

The juxtaposition of extreme, unreal, completely unrecognizable levels of poverty along side modern vehicles and technology is not like anything I’ve ever experienced. You try to prepare your mind for what you’ll see, but seeing it in person is a whole other story. We traveled through miles and miles of flat open countryside littered with incredibly primitive open air markets and housing. Once in a blue moon, a structure made out of concrete or brick and mortar would appear. We saw drones of people walking along the roads with their groceries, people stacked two high on dirt bikes and bicycles and what looked like ex-military vehicles jam packed with passengers. The 80’s kid in my subconscious couldn’t help but be reminded of scenes from Mad Max. The threat of tribal conflict mixed with primitive construction and pockets of commerce made Kenya feel like the Wild West.

Two lanes. No lights. No lines. Damage to the roads was so terrible that we’d often have to slow to a stand-still to pass over potholes. Occasionally we'd drive off into the dirt to avoid ten-foot wide (or more) ditches in the road. With people walking along either side of the road, we’d even drive head on into oncoming traffic hoping they’d see us and slow down. This would give us literally seconds before lunging back into our lane—missing both the pothole and a collision. Once we got to Kitale, the roads turned to red dirt. No shoulders. Dust like fog in the windshield. But through it all our drivers kept us safe. Philip and Koesh could run circles around Toecutter and Bubba Zanetti.