Terri Martin

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Life often begins in phases, one complimenting the next; more often, we don't even know what is taking place. Until...

Some of my working days at St. Mary's Medical Center in Reno, Nevada were easier than others. In the early 1990's, there were many days when there was no time for anything but work. As an HR specialist, one of the departments I supported was the Laboratory. On one remarkable day, I had been working intently on a very trying personnel issue with Muthoka Mutua, manager of the Laboratory department. Muthoka was known to be a heads-down, work-oriented manger. He kept his personal life very separate from his work. But this day was different. We needed to unwind.

Often in the past, we had been two co-workers sitting across the desk from one another, telling war stories about our trials at work. This particularly memorable afternoon, Muthoka was getting ready for a trip home to Kenya the following week. I remember clearly the change that came over him as he spoke of his people, their beauty, and the simplicity of their lives. For me, this day changed my understanding and opened my eyes to another world.

This man with the quiet countenance exploded with grins and laughter and I was mesmerized listening to him as he described giraffe, gazelle, and other animals I had only seen on television, in the movies, or in zoos. He was animated. His face lit and his eyes shined as he spoke of walking miles to school in his bare feet. He told of the joy of the falling rain in the forest, the beauty of Kenya and her people, and the schoolboy pranks he and his friends played on one another. He glowed with a peace I had never seen as he described the free spirit of his people, their inner strength, and the obstacles they overcame daily.

With tear-filled eyes, he described bringing his mother water during the night from the cookhouse, watching her deteriorate slowly, feeling so helpless, and of her early death. She died of diabetes, a disease easily identified and treated. As a trained Medical Technician it angered him. He explained that there was no medical care available in or near their village.

He told me of his personal undertaking, something he was doing alone with the desire to bring change. He was stockpiling outdated medical equipment in his home in Machakos Town in Kenya. Each time he made a trip home he took as much as he could carry; the year before he had shipped one full freight container to Kenya. He had sent a tractor, a water drill, medical supplies, and much, much more. He shared his dream: to build a clinic in the Mua Hills for his beloved Kamba people.

I was so moved. My opinion of this man was forever changed. I knew he was so much more than the man who ran the Laboratory. He had a goal, a dream, and was moving in that direction. Muthoka Mutua was the most humble man I had ever met and I admired his courage and his dream.

Over the next two years we spoke of Kenya often. I would tease him about me helping to build the clinic so I could do the human resources work. He would laugh and tell me I would love Kenya. He was right.

In 1997, I left St. Mary's, married, and moved to Portugal. After three years my marriage dissolved and my life turned upside down. I came home to Reno in September of 2000. To say my life was in shambles and I was little adrift would be quite an understatement.

My friend Cyndi invited me to stay with her for a while until I could get my feet on the ground. Cyndi gave me respite; she shared her home with me for a few weeks and gave me the greatest gift of my life: she sponsored me for a Tres Dias weekend in November. The weekend changed my life. The weekend put me in touch with many sides of myself and had me look inside to see if what I was focusing on was truly making me happy. I wasn't sure, but I knew I wanted to do more with my life.

During one of the evening meals, Ron Petersen was talking with an engineer about his need for some type of battery to assist one of the villages he was working with in Africa. Ron was the quietest individual attending the retreat; he hadn't spoken more than three words to anyone. I was amazed as I listened to this quiet man talk of drilling for water in Africa as if he were peeling potatoes in the kitchen. The conversation was filled with technical jargon and descriptions of the plight of the African people. I was fascinated. As the conversation moved away from the technical arena, the three of us began to talk of Africa. Ron's face filled with light as he described the joy of the African people he had met. His eyes were bright and he was animated and excited. As the conversation ended, I told him that if he was getting another group together to take to Africa, I wanted to go.

The Spiritual Director for the weekend was Reverend Britt Olson. She was fantastic and the pastor of St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Sparks, Nevada. I decided to attend a service and I fell in love with the church. The focus was on outreach and it felt good to be reaching outside of myself. Ron started attending as well.