Pride Rock

Sitting here atop Pride Rock, I am embarrassed and ashamed I cannot capture the true beauty of this place with my camera. The sheer magnificence of it all is simply amazing. The nearby waterfall provides a steady backdrop sound, accompanied by birds and the leaves falling from the great tree that now protects me. The glint of tin roofs off in the distance look light stars in the night sky. The green surrounds me, other than this stone that keeps me clinging to earth. Off beyond the green are Lake Victoria and the mountain range of another side of this world. I can see moneys crossing the falls, tiny people looking up to this place. This is as close to God I have been in a very long time. Now silent, I am alone on the rock. Usually it is filled with children and our students, loudly chatting, quietly reading, braiding hair, taking pictures and enjoying each other’s company while they share this edge of our earth. Jutting out from just behind the clinic, there is nothing below for a great distance. You can feel the peace and sturdiness of this place. It is splendidly breathtaking and every good descriptive word I have ever learned has fallen from me here. This is something I so want to share with you all, but fall far short. Perhaps you can visit this place yourself and look out across this corner of the world. And find peace.

We all get away at some point to go to this place. Later in the day I hear our “dignitary” Joell tell about her experience on the rock. As she went there for some quiet time alone, a small boy approached her. After a little chatting she asked the boys’ name and he replied – Nelson Mandela. I guess if you had to share a rock overlooking Africa with someone, not a bad choice.

I did get to venture off the rock, and down a side path to take a closer look at the waterfall. Along with a small group of students taking a well-deserved break from clinic work, a dozen or so children soon joined us as well. They would race past us, then return to keep close as we made out way down and up over the rugged terrain. The children would jump across large gaps of rocks, or scamper up the fallen tree without the fear I had. At one point I took a break and felt a small hand on my back, picking away briars than had grabbed hold. It seemed any time I would stop to enjoy the scenery, or just catch my breath, some little one would be behind me picking away. It was a great climb up to see the muddy waters falling to the earth and we got to venture around this place until the call of duty had us return.

The crowd of people seeking help at the clinic begins to grow longer as the workday grows shorter. A rain storm approaches and washes off the plateau and valley as well. All the patients crowd into the church for shelter and care. In the corner, up front is Dr. Lisa Baker, known to the community as Mama Lisa. She is planted in a blue plastic chair as she has been for the past days, looking over each and every patient. She is surrounded with students, taking notes, fetching medicine and offering their help as well. They hang on her every softly spoken word. She sits at a doorway with her back to Pride Rock, so to have the breeze on her as she works though the day and litany of maladies. She is a fixture in her spot, as the faces of her helpers come and go. The sun is to her back as well, casting her students in much better light. She knows many locals have come for help, and are waiting; yet she spends precious, caring minutes with each and every one that is brought before her spot in the corner. She will often go without taking a break for lunch and while only less than 50 yards from the edge of Pride Rock, she has yet to find a moment in her days of working the clinic to enjoy the splendor of the view. I am truly stunned to discover that in the two years she has lead this clinic project she has never gotten a chance to look out and admire the world from the plateau. She is just focused on the hundreds of patients she sees while up here and has no time to look down.

The students take note and offer up similar comfort to all who come. It is amazing to see all of the caregivers at work without the aid of running water or electricity. They seem to understand the impact this visit has on this community, but are always stunned by the determination, generosity, graciousness and faithfulness of the people seeking their treatment. I think we all come to realize this is a special project and a special place.

Back at Pride Rock I have visited several times to share in the celebration of togetherness and the solitude it provides. I nearly lose my trademark blue flap hat here, but some children find it on the rock and return it to me promptly. I see students hugging children and sharing a final view over the world before the clinic is closed and we all must leave. I am not sad about leaving here, as I feel I can always return. I will always remember seeing the beauty of the valley at my feet. I will always have the security of the rock under me.

My final day on the plateau I hope to take one last visit to Pride Rock and perhaps a get a souvenir. My plan is to chip off a small part to bring back and keep forever. But the time slipped past. And although my pocket is empty, my heart will always hold on to this magic stone.

On our final drive down, back to earth, we take in the usual custom of the daily parade we host. Our collection of somewhat whiter than we are vans pass slowly downs the road to the valley, inching out way home. People, especially children, will call out with the sweetest sounding greeting the region offers. “HOWAREYOU?” (And to get the full effect, end the ‘you’ with a higher pitch and greater emphasis then the other words crammed together. It also helps to use a singsong approach and have your heart filled with wonderment and glee. Go up an octave if you can.) And the wave is a thing of beauty. Some like the simple single hand wave, but many go for the much-more-excited two-handed wave, like they just washed and are drying their hands in the air. And just to be fair, we don’t exactly blend in around here. Mzungu is the name we are given and if I ever forget I am a pasty white guy, I will just drive up here again to be reminded. We must really look like the circus coming through town. The look of surprise on their faces is always wonderful as we cruise past. And when I say cruise, I mean the following things typically pass us: walkers, bikes, each and every boda boda, running water and I once even spotted a butterfly go past us as we tried to go over some rocks. Most places I ride my dirt bikes aren’t this rugged. But tonight we are headed down this path and the children are running from their homes to give this parade a final salute. You can see the smiles coming at you while we creak along over another muddy patch or rocky pass. I thrust my hand out at every opportunity to say my goodbye to the wonderful people of the plateau. The sun is painting its final strokes of light across the canvas of green below and Lake Victoria is shimmering. Pride Rock hangs above us now, as it has for the millions of years before. And my parade moves on…