The gestation period for rabbits is 21 days. I know this because Derrick told me. I also know the period for cows, chicks and other animals. In Kenya, it is a necessity so you can monitor the new births and mothers.

I came here with a few tasks, one was to disciple Mark and Derrick, who were orphans in Daniel’s first project and have since grown to men.

I am trying to spend time with them without breaking into their schedule to my end.

I sat with Derrick to talk, but what was he doing today? He was watching rabbits breed. OK, this is a bit awkward. Who does that? He said that they must do it so they can know the exact date the babies are born.

I can do this…talk about life and God and growth….while watching rabbits breed. OIA

Mark and Derrick took me to Baba Numbonde to visit the orphanage where Dan and Luke worked, several years ago. We met the kids we have known for over five years.

While there, I got roped into attending their church service, which, if you have been to Kenya, is over three hours of chair-butt pain and fighting the nods due to jet lag, which I never seem to get over, the whole time I’m here.

The services are unique, in that one preaches and an interpreter repeats everything, almost simultaneously, neither of which I could hear due to the size of the room and the acoustics, resulting in the largest echo-chamber I have ever encountered.

To keep myself awake, I made faces at the kids around me, passed out candy, making them giggle, and get scolded. I took out my camera to take a picture, and a half dozen swarmed me to see the digital image on the screen, causing a small commotion, making me put it away quicker than I got it out.

One boy, about three, ran over and sat on my lap. Sadly, he had diarrhea, and it soaked through his paper thin pants to my shorts. I didn’t know what the wetness was at first, and put my hand in it. I don't know why I did that but think it is just a reflex I do when I think, "are my pants wet, they weren't before I sat down?" I don't quite make the leap that "hey, I just put a kid on that exact spot and he was wet".

He was “gently” tossed to the floor and I made my way to the water outside. I scrubbed; best I could, and grabbed my Purell, at least to make me think there was some form of disinfection. If you know me, you know I am a germaphobe.

I returned to the service and noticed that when I ran out, someone next to me had changed him. He jumped back in my lap and laid his head on my shoulder.

Flies are a common thing here, since the sanitation is poor, at best. Not having done a thorough job at my clean-up, they were literally swarming my leg.

I just keep repeating Daniel’s mantra; “if it doesn’t kill you, it will make for a good story”.