Coffee with Discontent

Coffee with Discontent

Seventeen months ago I got married and moved to rural Maasai land, Kenya. My husband has lived here for 15 years and is semi local by now. Before I moved, I realized that many things that had been life giving to me - like playing in a band, having philosophical conversations and having “me- time” - will probably not be available. In fact, I realized that I will not be having female friends for a long time and that communication with people back home will be limited. I would have other things though – a husband, beautiful scenery, wildlife and simpler living.

In this process of counting the cost of switching lives, the Lord warned me about the danger of discontent. Discontent is a sneaky little thing. The moment you allow it a place on your couch and entertain it with a cup of coffee, it sneaks behind your back and opens the door to frustration. Frustration gossips to you about everything you could’ve had but don’t. It tells you that these struggles are someone else’s fault. And together you invite Blame to join the party. Blame is not shy and sneaky, he’s outspoken and persuasive. When you give Blame a chance, he’ll mesmerize you with your innocence and without you noticing, Bitterness is now sitting on the couch too. And bitterness is like that one person (we all know at least one) that makes you duck behind the counter in an effort to avoid having contact. His company makes you unbearable.

And allowing Bitterness to sit on my couch would render the entire purpose of me being here, useless.

So armed with the theory and enemy strategy exposed, I moved to Maasai land. It’s been hard. It’s good to count the cost beforehand, it’s also good to know there will always be unknown and therefor uncounted costs. It’s better really, to sign a blank cheque before you go.  There’s also been many uncounted privileges and blessings and I’m not in the least regretting coming here. The practical, is always more adventurous than the theory, and a bit more tricky…

When all is good and I’m thankful, my surroundings are Paradise (which it really is). But when I allow discontent to have a cup of coffee and tell me off everything I once had, then all I see is dry bush and bugs. Then instead of looking at the stars while having a hot outdoor shower, I moan about my feet getting dirty the moment I step out of it. Instead of watching the moon rise while cooking, I scream at the bugs flying into my food. Instead of drinking a glass of wine with Wonder, I drink lemon juice with Blame. It’s an awful party that seems to invite themselves, or do they?

I guess I’m learning, that which I’ve been taught many times. That it is the choice to open the door or not, that determines who sits on my couch. Discontent, Frustration, Blame and Bitterness are high-maintenance guests. They makes demands and order you around. They make you tired. They talk a lot but never really listen.

You know, you get two kinds of hugs. The one kind, like that of these guests, sucks the life out of you and then leave. The other kind of hug, embraces with encouragement and a sense of “I’m here, I hear. We’ll get through this”. Thankfulness on the other hand, gives the second kind of hug.

Yes, maybe I planned a quiet Sunday morning alone on my couch. But the fact that I am now getting up to serve the four Maasai guys that rocked up for coffee, means they enjoy my company – there is a purpose for me being here, and for that I am thankful. I get to have coffee with good people, have a laugh, share a story and regain my wonder.

So, maybe the tent I’m living in doesn’t have a door in front of the couch and maybe some mornings I wake up to find discontent already sitting. But I sure don’t have to serve him coffee…