The Road to Kitale

By John Epur Lomuria

This is a true story as shared by John Lomuria to Angelina Conti, the Youth Book project coordinator.

Do you know what will happen next? At times I am not counting on what might happen next in Africa, and so I trust that God [has] plans for me before I start thinking on what I should do next.

May I share an experience of life [I had] when serving the purpose of God the creator in the Turkana District of Kenya? I have been on this road for years and have met several such incidents, but none has ever been more terrifying than this.

It was an evening of joy, when all my family knew that I was to go to Kitale to present on the Quaker Youth Book Project, but at the same time my heart knew the type of journey I was to cover to Kitale. This is the type of journey that [requires] prayer among other human efforts like armed escorts, in buses and speeding buses, to cover this horrible distance and come out safe to continue with the rest of the journey.

By seven in the evening we were set to move. My mind was imagining the number of people I would meet the next morning, how to convince them to write submissions.

My mum invited all family for prayers before I could walk out of my house. She did so briefly, and [it was] usual for her, and so I went. On our way, [with] almost half the distance to cover, we had just passed by the famous black spot Kakongu, a place named so by my tribe’s men to mean “on the eye.” Why so? I do not know. I heard [a sound] like “tartar- tar.” Was it a tire that burst? No it was real—the bandits had taken our bus captive. By the flash of an eye the buses stopped, guns were all over the place, surrounding the bus. The passengers kept quiet awaiting the next move. “God,” I said in my heart, “be ready to receive my soul.”

The only words we could hear were “lete besa,” with the accent of Kiturkana in it, which means “bring money.” Then “toka nje” (“get out”) was next, and passengers came out running like small children dropping Kenyan notes down as if giving offerings on the altar. Half of the bus was almost empty when the savior came flashing from far—an escort car with ten police personnel officers. The bandits ran after they saw the car. I was terrified beyond measure for I knew that if [the police] had delayed, they would have killed a few of us, as usual, as sacrifice to their spiritual beings. The police came and took cover as we reentered the bus. Nobody talked in the bus until we reached Kainuk, the next stopping point where passengers would relieve themselves. Everybody came out terrified and nobody bought anything that night, not even water.

Are we prepared for the road to Heaven?

About the Author(s)

Evelyn and John LomuriaJohn Epur Lomuria is a member of Lodwar Monthly Meeting, Kenya, of East Africa Yearly Meeting (North-FUM) and the incoming clerk of the Young Quakers Christian Association. He has served as one of ten members of the editorial board for Spirit Rising: Young Quaker Voices, the new anthology shepherded by Quakers Uniting in Publications (QUIP) to be published in April, 2010 by Quaker Press of FGC. This story will appear in the collection.