The students at the Bible School were from all parts of Kenya. Some were from Mombasa at the coast which was 10 hours away from the campus. Others were at the back part of western Kenya which was even further. They all boarded at the school and saw their families once a year on Christmas break.
Most students were a little older and had waited a long time for this opportunity to have training to be a pastor. The stories we heard from them involved a history of hardship and sacrifice. We were most impressed by the testimonies of their strong faith in Christ seeming to be their primary focus. You probably are asking if they understood English. Yes they did. Some were more proficient than others. My husband had to train himself to simplify his English and teach concepts slowly. The teaching required time for patient feedback from the students.
The students came to our house for tea and a time to visit weekly. The first time we had that event I had a lesson to learn about manners and Kenyan culture. About ten in the evening I was thinking that it was about time for me to go to sleep. The students were still enjoying themselves, laughing and talking. Finally a student shyly came up to me and said, ”Mama, in Kenya you have to release us to leave before we can go home.” I quickly had my husband pray and release them to go back to their rooms.
My husbands American version for late visitors was to say, ”Honey, let’s go to bed so these people can go home”. I doubt if that would do well in Kenya.