Yesterday, a lorry overturned on the stretch of highway between Maseno Hospital and St. Philip's. A large crowd had gathered by the time we passed. We worried that it might portend another Kenyan horror story you'd read about in the newspaper: "Explosion kills hundreds as residents siphon spilled petrol."
Instead, we learned that a molasses truck had spilled its contents. Fortunately, no one was hurt. Throngs of people rushed to the site with jerry cans and rags to soak up the molasses from the road, wring out the rags into cans, and lug their "found treasure" (well-seasoned with grit) home to use in cooking.
Today, walking to weekly chapel, I chatted with a neighbor who was carrying a baby on her back and bananas on her head. Engrossed in the conversation, we didn't notice the large dark spot on the highway until we stuck to it. After a lot of laughter and a less-than-graceful extrication, we went our separate ways. When the choir began to sing at St. Philip's, though, I got the giggles again: "There is a story sweet to hear..."
But there is nothing funny about families that are hungry enough to scrape molasses off the road.