The Way To a Man's Heart
In 2010 I had my first chapatti (flat bread) and I've been in love ever since.  I've been told all my life that food is the way to a man's heart.  It wasn't my cooking that won Mr. Onyango's heart, but I'm pretty convinced it was my adaptability and willingness to immerse myself in his culture that piqued his interest in me.  You might have to wait till he gets here and ask him yourself.

The First Time I Laid Eyes on Chaptis
The first time we were served Chapati on the World Race, my dearest friend, Jeanne Bensch Tholen, coined the phrase, "Chapati Party."  So every single time we were served this wonderful bread our team would scream, "CHAPATI PARTY!"

Last night my roommate returned from her month and a half holiday.  When I served her stew with rice she said, "You know what would be really good with this?  Chapatis."  So, tonight I made chapatis. 

They aren't so difficult to make by any means.  You can find a recipe that suits your needs anywhere on the net but I'll share mine with you.

My Stolen Recipe for Chapatis
2 Cups of Flour
A few dashes of Salt
A dash of sugar
A tablespoon or so of oil
About a 1/4 of hot water

Instructions: Combine dry ingredients.  Then slowly add oil and water all the while kneading the dough like your making biscuits.  This should make about 10 chapatis (which may be enough for a super thin over health conscious family of four).  Once your dough is not sticky but stretchy, pull apart 10 pieces.  (Now there are many ways you can do this next part but I'm gonna tell you the quick maybe not the best way to go about this). Form your 10 parts into balls and sit aside for a couple minutes or as long as your busy schedule allows.  Then get out your rolling pin.  Sprinkle a little flour on a flat CLEAN surface.  Put down your ball and roll it into the flattest circle ever.  Brush a little oil or melted butter on both sides. Meanwhile heat up your pan.  When you see smoke coming up, its hot enough.  Put a little little bit of oil in the pan then put your flat thin circled bread in the pan.  Let it brown a little then flip over and let it brown.

There is one thing you must remember.  If you really want good chapatis you should probably ask an Indian or East African to make them for you.  I don't really make the best chapatis because

I AM NOT KENYAN! 

The Agreement
On May 3, 2013 two weeks before traveling home to USA from Kenya, I said, "I do" to Aldo Onyango before several witnesses in Kisumu at a courthouse.  On that day when I agreed to stay committed to him in good times and in bad times, in happy times and in sad times, I had no idea of the future of separation I was agreeing to.

Denied a Visa
Not having anyone in my sphere of influence (at the time) who had been found by her love overseas, I was ignorant to the process it takes to bring a "visitor" to America.  See I have traveled the world, 15 countries, and not once was I ever denied a tourist visa into any country of Asia, Africa, Australia or Europe.  But my fiancé at the time went for his tourist visa interview and was denied by the American who interviewed him because he had "no assets" in Kenya.  They were afraid he would get to America and never return to his home country.  I was devastated then but laugh now because they were unaware of the struggle I had to even get Aldo to want to leave the country he had always known to visit a foreign place - even if it was America. 

A Long Wait
Within a few days of returning home, I immediately sent a packet of information, spousal visa application and large check to the USCIS.  This was nothing like waiting for results from a job or university; I was told I'd hear something between 6 and 12 months.  What a range!  I mean what am I supposed to do besides twiddle my thumbs, start a book club?  Okay I actually did start a book club but seriously after waiting 29 years for a husband, I didn't want to wait another week, nevertheless months. 

Focus on the Lord
Micah 7:7 says, "But as for me, I will look to the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me."  After that heartbreak at the Embassy in Kenya, something in me still had hope in God.  I knew he would save me from this separation.  My mama pointed me in the direction of her bookshelf full of, "How to be the perfect Christian Wife" books.  Not seriously but I did read nearly all of them.  While it has been a challenge, I have taken this time to sit under the wisdom and experience of seasoned wives. 

He Inclined to Me
Psalm 40:1 says, "I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry." You know even when I was on my knees and it was only my lips moving with no words coming forth, God heard that cry.  He turned my direction and clearly listened to me as I poured out my need before him.  I know that every prayer is not answered with a yes but just to know that God cared enough to be a good listener, gives me the peace that surpasses all understanding.


The Decision
So 38 and a half weeks later, I called the USCIS and was told by the representative, "Congratulations.  Your case has just been approved."  I couldn't scream.  I couldn't cry.  I just said, "What?  Are you serious?" 

You know I feel like I just said, "Mother May I" and was told to take 10 giant steps because I am so pumped.  Yeah it could be another 3 and a half months before he gets to come here.  It could be longer or shorter but I can actually see the light at the end of the tunnel now.  Some things are worth the wait... or in my case... my husband is worth the wait.

So What Happens Now?
Our approval has been sent to the National Visa Center.  The NVC will look over it to assure everything is in place then send word to Aldo in Kenya and me in Kentucky.  Aldo will then go for medical visit and then for interview at the Embassy in Nairobi.  He will be in a position to receive his visa then get a plane ticket and come to USA.  This is not a quick process but it should be quicker than the time we have already spent.


Don't Give Up... Just Hold On...
Pslam 31:14 says, "Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord!"  This verse is an encouraging verse for all my sisters and brothers out there who are waiting for the Lord to hear their cries.  Let your strength be found in Him and trust that He is working it out in his favor.  If there is anything I have learned its not to put a time limit on God.

Tonight as I lie here listening to the strong winds and warnings of tornadoes, I can't help but be reminded of the first time Mr. Onyango said, "I love you."

It was one night mid March of 2012.  I was on the second floor of Asbury Theological Seminary girls' dorm in my bedroom on the phone.  He has this funny habit of saying a huge paragraph when he could just say a short phrase.  Well, this night was no different.  He talked about every detail of the first day he saw me.  He talked about how moved he was watching me do ministry with the girls in Kenya.  He discussed how he was too shy to approach me but very grateful when he was invited to the dinner at Mama Terry's.  He even brought up all of the thoughts that were flowing through his mind when we went to Lake Victoria with my pastor's son.  Just as he was just about to get into how he felt about me, I heard the sirens. 

The Resident Assistant was knocking each door on the hall telling us to come to the basement for shelter.  I tried interrupting but he wasn't hearing it.  He wanted to continue explaining how he felt about me.  After the third knock on my door, I said, "Aldo I must go.  We have a tornado."  Instead of him just agreeing and getting of the phone he says, "What's a tornado?"  So then I have to explain what a tornado is. 

After explaining, he continues telling me how he feels about me.  He is not getting the picture.  I'm headed down stairs and go into the room they have prepared for us.  About thirty people are in this small room and I'm feeling claustrophobic.  I'm sneak out and head to the bathroom in a private stall to give Aldo time to say what he has been beating around the bush to say.  Just as he is about to get it out, my RA comes into the bathroom yelling at me, "You have to get in here."  I hang up on him because there is no quick goodbyes. 

I head into the room with the RA and go straight to the back only my seat has been taken so I sit in the middle of the room, knees to chest and head in folded arms.  My heart was beating heavy.  I knew for sure this man loved me and I felt so bad that this stupid tornado was preventing me from hearing him say it.

I bawled like a baby and all the girls in the room were asking what was going on.  Everyone thought I was just having a panic attack over my claustrophobia.  I played it off.  lol.

Before long the tornado warning was lifted and we were permitted to return to rooms only on the first floor.  A sweet girl welcomed me in her room so I could have this private conversation.  As soon as I called Aldo back he didn't say hello. All he said was, "Babe, I was trying to say that I love you."

And after all that do you know how I responded, "Ah.  That's sweet.  Thank you."  LOL. 

Hey... give me a break.  I AM NOT KENYAN!!!

My closest friends always said I'd be BrideZilla.... I think they are very right about that.  I'd been planning my wedding day since Mama took me on my first play date.  Colors, Music and Attendants were all planned UNTIL Aldo and I just up and decided, "Hey lets go ahead and get married here."  WHAT?!!?!?!?!?!?

So I did the very thing (well pretty darn close to it) I always made fun of Mama for.  My mom got married in her Pastor's house and had a small reception in the basement of the church she grew up in.  What I teased my mom about was the wool skirt and sweater she wore on her wedding day.  What did I wear on my wedding day?  I borrowed from my host mom the only dress that would fit: a black and blue dress just below the knee. 

I didn't have the fourteen bride's maids I'd always dreamed of but I did have my best friend.  I didn't marry in the church I grew up in with my friends and family but did have a cozy room in the court house with Aldo's parents and my host family. 

What's funny about this day was what it took to get to the wedding?  My friends and I laugh about how nothing in Kenya ever started on time.  We constantly were easily agitated by the tardiness or even lack of concern for time.  Tell me why I am the one, THE AMERICAN GIRL, who made everyone late for my own wedding. 

Pam brought her flat iron so I could straighten my hair and surprise Aldo.  My hair was freshly washed and dried.  Just as I finished straightening one section and moving to the next, the section I just straightened turned into a fuzz ball.  Half way through my hair I realized the African humidity just wouldn't allow me to have a nice hair style even on MY day.  I believe at one point I screamed at my host mother and bit my best friend's head off about the heat in the room.  Not even the fan my host mom brought cooled things down.  My make up was now running down my face.

By the time Aldo saw me in the compound of the home, I looked a hot mess.  I remember wanting to cry because this was not a good representation of me.

With that said, I know its the marriage that counts- not the wedding day... but I'm serious when I say I CAN'T WAIT FOR A REDO. 

I want my best friend Landen to play the baby grand piano rather than have my host mom lead a song way off key.  lol.  I want my two best girl friends to fluff my white gown on either side rather than have only one wipe the running foundation from my neck.  I want my mother to tell me, "You've never looked more beautiful" rather than my host's children running in and out lying about how pretty I looked just to keep me happy.  lol.  More than anything I want my daddy to walk me down the aisle and get choked up as he says, "Her mother and I do."

Needless to say... while I'm happy to be married to my Kenyan Husband, I must have an AMERICAN wedding because

I AM NOT KENYAN!



*Please note.... this blog is just for laughs... I was very pleased with marrying Aldo in Kenya and enjoyed having his family there to celebrate with us... I'm just anxious for him to get here so we can celebrate with my family as well. 

Each family holds traditions that  are unique to them.  Growing up, anyone who came to visit my parent's home knew we would have a fresh pitcher of ice cold sweet tea.  When offering drinks we always said, "Would you like a glass of tea?" 

My husband and I have one thing in common: we both love tea.  Problem: He likes chai (hot tea with milk) and I like ice cold tea with plenty of sugar and a little lemon.  He has NEVER tried sweet tea.

Today I was so excited about hosting Kenyan Fellowship.  I was told in advance that tea would be expected.  I keep a bag of Kenyan tea in the cabinet above my stove, right next to the sugar so I was well prepared.  While I know how to make tea, I refuse to make it and do it wrong when several Kenyan families are coming into my home- better they prepare it.

My dear friend who happens to be from my husband's Luo tribe agreed to prepare tea for me.  Unfortunately she assumed when I said I had all I needed, I knew what all was needed to make Chai. 

As we were gathering to serve our plates, one of my Kenyan sisters said, "Where's the tea?"  I pointed to the sweet tea that was on the table and knew by her expression she was really wanting Chai.  So I explained that I had a pot and could have someone put on tea for her.  When my friend came to prepare the tea she asked for he milk.  It donned on me that my lactaid would not be good enough for Chai.  So several of my Kenyan sisters started to scramble around, "You can't have a fellowship without tea."

Its a blessing that I live so close to Walmart because the ladies sent two to pick a gallon of milk for the tea.  I began pulling out pots that could be used to make the tea.  Every pot I pulled was "way too small.  Do you have bigger?"  I finally remembered the stock pot I had in the very back of my cabinet that I thought I'd never use.  This one was just right.

The milk had arrived and the tea was coming to a boil.  "Sondra, help me with your sift."  Oh no.  I don't own a sifter.  So I'm then asked to bring a needle to poke holes through a cup to act as a sifter.  Oh no  I don't have needles.  So then a thumb tack was found to make the sifter.  One of the mamas comes over and announces that the cup will just not work.  "Sondra, help us with a clean cloth."  I had just bought a Thanksgiving towel on sale and within 3 minutes it was being used to sift the tea grinds. 

I learned a great lesson tonight: I am not Kenyan!