Kitale

About one year ago, I made my first visit to Kitale, Kenya. I was privileged to be a part of a modern day Fishes and Loaves story in that small town with the shoes we passed out with Shoes for Orphan Souls. This year, I was back to capture stories of need and how God is working there with the children of the community.

The children screamed as we pulled up in the truck. We saw elbow nudges from classmate to classmate in the school. We heard whispers of “Munzungu” (White Man) between the children. They were excited to see us and we were excited to see them. The younger ones were afraid of us Munzungu. That was our first strike. Strike two was that we had cameras. The video camera was specifically scary until they warmed up to it.

The children soon welcomed us with hugs, tugs on our arms, and were eventually playing outside with us on the playground. I started blowing up balloons and letting them blow away in the wind. There was a group of about 50 kids eagerly waiting for me to blow the balloons up and release it. They would wait and then scream and run after the balloons. It was such a cool moment watching them scream with joy.

We interviewed a couple of children and staff members. I asked one staff member to tell me of a story that was particularly touching and that would illustrate what kind of past these children have. She told me of a story of one child there at the school. The little girl was young. She lived with her mother alone in Kitale. When her mother died, the child was too young to understand what happened. The child, had been nursing from her mother at the time. When someone eventually found the mother and child, the woman had been dead for three whole days. The child was still trying to nurse from her dead mother’s body.

So many of these children in Africa have been through experiences that you and I can’t imagine. Yet, they still have love and joy in their soul. We can learn so much from them. They have a resiliency and level of faith that most of us don’t. A Kenyan friend who works with orphans there told me something on this trip. “Americans just don’t have the same kind of faith we do here in Africa. We have to pray and have faith about everything. Those in the US put their faith in money, doctors, medicine, and material things to take care of them. We don’t have those things. All we have is faith. We know it works because we live it each day.” He was giving me advice on something I was worried about. He asked me, “Why don’t you just pray about it and have faith that the Lord will take care of it?”

I feel hurt for the children because of what they have had to endure. However, in so many ways, I see that they “get it” so much better than we do. They forgive easier than we do. They love more openly than we do. They cherish each day they are given to live. It's funny how we go with the plan to teach them, and come back having been taught. We have so much to learn.

Made For Another World

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." -C.S. Lewis

My heart started to pound, hands began to sweat, and heat from deep within crawled out of and up my face. The footsteps got closer and closer. And then of course, the feet were at the side of the bed. It didn’t seem to matter that I prayed for the feet to move another direction. They always made their way to my bed anyway. The smell of alcohol was next, and then came the snake bite feeling on my arm. Right about at this time fear was at its worst. Nothing but panic sets in at this point. This scene was all too familiar to me in my childhood.

I am a former “sick kid.” You know the kind. There is one in every class. One child that is always sick, and always in the hospital for something. That was me. In the hospital way too many times as a child. I think it totaled 9 or 10 times by the time I was in fourth grade. And the worst was the scene described above, leading up to the nurse coming in to give you the IV.

Maybe that is why my heart broke for the child I saw in Kenya that warm sunny day. Maybe that is why I couldn’t help but shove my camera to the side when I saw her. I recognized the fear in her eyes. I felt it in the air. I knew exactly what she was feeling. She sat in the clinic with her father at her side. Been there. Done that. Many a time, my father and mother sat on the bed and held my hand during the IV procedure. Her father held hand and gave her a few quick smiles as the Dr. came closer.

What was her story? Why was she here? The details of her story are a mystery to me. I do however know she had Malaria, and was VERY sick because of it. Approximately 3 million people die each year due to malaria. The fog in my mind lifted briefly as I had a thought. I suddenly feared she might be grouped in that statistic. Her fever was high and the Dr. said it was very serious. The righteous anger in me boiled. This child is not just a number or a statistic. She is a precious little girl with limitless potential. I couldn’t help but think about how inexpensive mosquito nets are. Would the $10 we have each no doubt spent on a fast food recently, have saved her life if it was spent on a net instead? Probably.

The Dr. at the clinic had the bitter sweet task of piercing the little girl’s skin with that needle and causing pain to shoot up her arm. The medicine might help her. It might save her life. We hope. We Pray so. Although, the pain and sin of the world still hurts, and she is too young to understand it. She started to cry. Her father bent down to say something to her. I was relieved he was there to comfort her. He abruptly and in a firm voice, barked something in Swahili towards her. I suddenly realized he was scolding her for starting to cry. He wasn’t smiling anymore. She took a deep breath. Her chest bounced up and down as she tried to shove the cry down deep within her chest. I wanted to cry for her.

If I were her, I would have been crushed. Life is different in Kenya though. These children are raised to withstand and be strong against pain. Pain, it’s a part of everyday life here. Isn’t her father just doing what he has to do to prepare her for the life of a woman in Kenya? Watching her on the hospital bed was like looking into a mirror of my childhood. I guess it was the motherly side of me that just wanted to jump in and hold her, letting her cry as long as she needed.

Life on earth is sometimes unfair. God never said it would be fair. I long for children to be allowed to be just be kids. Instead, these children are in conditions where they have to be strong, grow up quickly, and learn that pain, suffering, and death are just an everyday part of life. In a land where so many watch their parents die of AIDs, their brothers and sisters die of Malaria, and the hope of living beyond 50 years old is considered miraculous, fairness seems like something out of a fairy tale.

I find myself a desire for innocent children to never be in pain and to not experience suffering. I pray that one day I will meet that little girl again in a world that has no pain…the world and heaven we were made for. I understand the quote above from C.S. Lewis so well after serving on the mission field with orphans.

The singer Bono once said, “Where you live should not determine whether you live or whether you die.” I agree. The children in Africa are dying. It’s not because they did something wrong or made a poor choice. It is simply because they live in Africa. Their screams from the grave and from the hospital beds around the land cry out. They cry for change…they cry for help…they cry for us to take action.

Korogocho Slum

I stepped out of the van to a familiar place, the Korogocho slum. It is a place I have visited a few times before. The kids were, as usual, running up to the vehicle chanting, “How are you? How are you?” That chant is music to my ears. It sounds like a sweet angelic melody. Hard to explain.

I stepped out of the van and took a quick glance at the people and vultures (almost human like in size) living in the garbage dump nearby. This site is always shocking to me, but is as normal to the children as us seeing the neighbor mow the lawn with his John Deere Tractor. They don’t even notice the scavenging going on just a few feet away.

I soon realized I had about ten children tugging on my arms. “How are you?! How are you?!” One little girl was standing directly in front of me. She was pulling on my arm the hardest. Ironically enough, she was probably the smallest child in that group. I bent down to eye level with her and said told her, “I am well, how are you?” in Swahili. She immediately wrapped her arms around me and gave me the biggest hug ever. It was amazing how she fit just right in my arms. It was like that last jigsaw piece being placed in the puzzle. Wow. She was lovely. She pulled away just as I was admiring how perfect this little girl was. She smiled from ear to ear. Her front teeth were black and rotten through and through. Yes, she was perfect even though her teeth were rotting out of her face. She was beautiful. I don’t have a picture of her, but trust me, she looks like a beautiful masterpiece of art.

The school in Korogocho is like a light in a dark room. It is a place of sanctuary and heaven in the pit of darkness. The children play jacks with rocks on the sidewalk, play on a rusted swing for entertainment, eat bowls of beans for lunch, and are so thankful for these luxuries. They live in the slums and would normally not have such blessings at home. Most would not eat at all if they did not go to school.

The school is growing but cannot nearly serve all the children in need in the slum that is built on the old city dump. They certainly have their work cut out for them. They have a school for the younger children and a beauty salon and wood working training center for older students. Hope comes in different forms. In this case, it comes in the form of a school, with an amazing staff, in the midst of the slums of Kenya. Korogocho. Once you visit, you will never be the same.

The Widow and the Orphan

In James 1:27 we are told to care for the orphan and widow. This is a story that calls for prayer and support for a woman of great strength and endurance. This woman (top picture), a widow, cares for an orphan as well. The child happens to be her grandchild. Her story is not like any normal story of our typical family in the US. Her daughter, the mother of the child this woman cares for, died of AIDS. The child, is HIV positive.

This woman told of a story that was similar to others we spoke with. We were told of the poor housing conditions of so many homes these women lived in. This woman told of how her heart ached when her daughter died. She couldn’t keep her daughter’s body dry from the rain that came in from the holes in the roof of her home. She just wanted to keep her dead daughter’s body dry. She couldn’t.

Now she is the foster mother to her grandchild. She does her best to provide for her grandchild that is infected with a disease that has become epidemic in size for Africa, HIV. She has a story that is not uncommon for so many in Africa. Grandmothers caring for their children’s children and even they are sick with HIV. Can you imagine the courage it takes for her each day?

We went to a building and were told that a “few” foster care families were invited to come and meet us and to be interviewed. When we arrived, we walked into a room of over 1,000 people! I tried my best to shake as many hands as possible. I wanted to meet and thank each one of them for what they do. It was impossible to meet everyone. I pray they all realize how they are respected for what they do each day for those children. The pictures above are from this crowd of foster parents and orphan children.

The Shoe School

Bright Hope Ministry offers many programs to the people of Ethiopia. Education, training on trades, etc are being implemented and flourishing in the lives of the needy. We were blessed to go to one of these places. Here young women learn how to sew and to make shoes.

The shoes are quite nice, and are made with such care and perfection. The students had a sense of pride when showing us how they made the shoes. I wondered where the women would be if they weren’t here. Would they be prostitutes like so many of their peers? Would the one young man there be on the streets shining shoes or sniffing glue to stop his hunger pains?

I was so impressed with the quality of the shoes and with the shoe makers that I bought a pair myself. I wasn’t going to at first because when I inquired about it, it sounded as if customers had to order a pair to be made. However, it just happened they had a pair of sandals in my size. I really didn’t care how much they would cost. I would have paid just as much as a pair would cost in the US, if not more. Can you guess how much they charge for the shoes? Three dollars.

I pray for these girls. What is it about them that causes them to captivate my mind? Is it their innocence? Is it their courage? Their joy? Is it the fact that I look at them and realize that could be me? I could have been born in that country and I could be fearing predators on the street as I walk to and from school. I could be working for less than a dollar a day. Maybe it is the fact that I wasn't, that I feel like I should tell their story so others will pray for them too. I thought a lot about them while flying home. I prayed they would avoid the dangers of the street while walking to and from the shoe store. These girls were so sweet. They had an innocence about them that was so endearing. They were so excited to help me find a pair of shoes that fit. They took pride in finding a pair that would fit my feet just right. They did a great job. I haven’t worn the shoes yet. I don’t want to mark them up. They seem too special to wear for some reason. My three dollars shoes. Worth more than you could put a dollar value on really. Made in a work space no larger than a picnic table. It was humbling to see God at work through these young women. May He bless them abundantly.

Traditional Food

Over the next week or so, I will be adding a post each day with thoughts and stories about the trip. I know my last post was a little on the heavy side. I thought I would lighten the mood up a little bit with today's post. Here are some fun little tid bits from the trip.

In Ethiopia, the traditional and most popular food is Injera. It is a sponge bread that you tear pieces off with your fingers. You then put sauces of meat, cheese, and/or beans in the middle of it. When you tear a piece off, you grab a portion of your choice sauce, roll it in a ball, and stick the whole piece in your mouth. A good injera eater gets it in their mouth in one bite and doesn’t have any sauce running down their chin afterwards. We had this traditional food a couple of times. My favorite injera stuffing is chicken, beef, or beans. Although, I will admit, the mutton wasn’t all that bad.

It is a tradition that when you care about the person you are eating with, you feed them the injera you roll in your hand. People at one location were feeding us the injera from their plate. They put the handful of bread in your mouth for you and hand feed you. The pictures above are the injera on plates. The injera filling was poured in the middle of the plate.

In Kenya, Sugar Cane is very popular. Kitale, Kenya is a farming community of sugarcane. Everywhere you go, people are eating sugarcane. Bicycle riders are chewing on it as they ride, children are sitting along the street with it, the store owners are selling it. Of course we had to get some! Here is a picture of me trying Sugarcane for the first time. It’s really good! It is pretty rich. There is no way I would want an entire stock of it. I had a few bites and was done. You bite off a piece, suck out the juice and then spit out the fiber like cane pieces.

The Massi tribe men in Kenya have some of their own traditions as well. For example, the men drink cow’s blood and cow’s milk every morning. I did NOT take part in trying out this tradition, but did find it interesting!!

Get Out of Jail Free Card

Some of you may have heard of our little “Adventure” with the Ethiopian police. On Monday, July 21st, we were on our way to the village of Bantu. It was going to be a two hour drive, so we took off in the morning to have plenty of time at the site and to get back by dark. Little did we know, our day would be far from what we had planned.

Ever been at the wrong place at the wrong time? I think we all have. This seemingly ordinary Monday, was far from that for our group. It was about to be one of those wrong place- wrong time moments for us. We were filming from the truck in the city of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The streets were crowded and providing the perfect scene of a day in the life of Ethiopia. Our camera man happened to spot a policeman, with the camera, in the crowd directing traffic. He instantly told us to pull over.

To make a long story short, that day there was a high profile court case going on near where we were. The case was very controversial and the defendant had some Islamic ties. Little did we know the crowd was infiltrated with undercover policeman, FBI, and intelligence officers. They had seen us filming and decided we were a part of the media covering the case. It was assumed and decided that we were filming for Al Jezeera. Of course we weren’t, and we denied any part in this. They were not happy. After we were questioned on the street and a large crowd began to form, we were taken “down town.” In more clear terms, we were taken to the police station to be questioned further.

We like to call this experience “Technically Detained But Not Arrested.” After several hours of being held and questioned, we were released. One of the undercover FBI policemen who was a witness in the crowd to situation, talked to me a bit. He told me “You are lucky you are American.” I asked him why. He then said, “If you were Middle Eastern, you would be here a long time for what happened.” I responded and said, “A long time as in days?” He threw his head back and laughed. He then looked at me very seriously and said, “No, months.”

We are all indeed thankful to be American and are thankful for that “Get Out of Jail Free Card” the Lord so graciously gave us. He also gave us a calmness, peace, and a sense of humor throughout the whole ordeal. After about four hours of being at the police station, we were allowed to leave. We laugh about the whole experience, but it could have been very serious had they not eventually believed our intentions for filming.

After a stop for a bite to eat, we were on our way to Bantu. We agreed that we had all just been through one strange experience. We felt frustration more than anything because most of our day had been wasted at the station. However, we then realized that maybe God had worked in a way to keep us from something dangerous on the way to Bantu. He works in mysterious ways. I do know that now I can joke and say, “I’ve never done any time in jail…oh, except that time I spent in the Ethiopian jail in July of ‘08!” The group picture is our pic of us enjoying our freedom after the release!

Eventually, we made it to Bantu. The beauty of the land was great, but the children were even more breathtaking. Here is a picture of one little girl I met. She is so beautiful, isn’t she? Some of the children here walked around half naked. All were very dirty, and most seemed as if they had NEVER owned or worn a pair of shoes. Bright Hope and Buckner are building a community center and school there. In Jeremiah 29:11, we are told that the Lord has a plan for each of us, one for hope and a future. Hope is in the future of the children in Bantu. If you look closely, you can even see it in this little girl’s eyes. Oh how I love to see hope in the eyes of children!

Meeting this little girl and holding her in my arms was the most exciting part of the day. My arms were left damp from her wet and dirty pants. My eyes left moist due to the mist that formed when I walked away and said goodbye. Handing out balloons and “Mastika” (Chewing Gum) to the group of children there proved to be more heartwarming than I could imagine and made the entire day’s troubles worth it for some reason. Right before we left the sun started to go down. Not before the Lord painted an amazing scene in the sky. The sun's rays were shining down as if to pour out blessings over the village of Bantu. He is at work there. We certainly serve an awesome God.