Adventures in Africa

Chaos + 104 = Love: Day 2

2011-08-30T21:17:00.001+03:00

Funny how things work here in Kenya, especially when it comes to the Kenya Power & Lighting (but mostly Darkness) Company. We had torrential downpour on Sunday night into Monday morning. The power didn’t flicker, not even once. We don’t even have a drop of rain last night and this morning and what happens? The power is out all night and into this morning and throughout the rest of the day today. Go figure.

And a cold shower I took this morning. Brrrrr!!!!

We had two different groups of people come out to In Step today. The first group was with our friends Louie & Rita Self. They had brought with them five women who just wanted to come and love on the children for a few hours. And that they did.

The children immediately grabbed a hold of the visitors’ legs and it was hook, line and sinker from there on in. The children had ten extra arms to be wrapped up in. They LOVED it.

The second group to come out were our friends, Betsy, Aly, Georgina, Andrew and Jonathan. They are usually regulars here. Andrew and Jonathan are heading back to the States next week; Georgina is going back to Nairobi to finish up her last semester of university but Betsy and Aly will still be coming by.

It’s always great having visitors here. With 104 children, it’s obvious that they can’t all be hugged or given attention to all at the same time. It’s definitely a gift when teams/visitors come out and love on the children for a day. So people from around the world, if you feel like huggin’ on and lovin’ on some sweet African children, come on over. We got lots for you to love. J

Before dinner, the children went outside to swing on the swings and play around the yard. I went outside with them and the kids asked me to do my dance, which consists of me putting my hands up in the air and turning around in a circle. The children then followed and we had a big dance party.

Sean’s been keeping pretty busy today. He had to run into town to get some paperwork done for the generator (aka Genny!) that is coming out THIS WEEK to In Step. It was donated from somewhere in the US and shipped on a container here. It’s been a long time wanted and needed out here so everyone is pretty excited about its arrival. Genny is going to be loved here.

Sean also did a clinic run today with one of our boys, Dennis. He woke up this morning with a headache. He was given medicine but the headache persisted and he got a bit of a fever. So we thought it might be malaria. It’s better to be safe than sorry. And we were correct; the poor little guy tested positive for malaria. He’s on medication now for it.

Every afternoon around three o’clock, we go around and ask the Aunties if any of the children need to go to the clinic. If so, we pile those that are sick, up in one of the vehicles and drive to the nearby clinic. In Step has a wonderful relationship with a doctor there, named Shadrack, who loves the children and takes excellent care of them. He’s definitely a treasure to In Step.

Also, one of our girls, Melissa, is having eye surgery on Thursday, early in the morning here. She will be admitted into the hospital tomorrow afternoon (our social worker is with her); the surgery will only take an hour or so and then she will hopefully be released on Friday to come home. So if everyone could pray for her over the next few days that would be greatly appreciated.

I also thought it would be cool to share what our dinners consist of everyday, since it’s the one that changes every day. Breakfast is chai (tea) and bread; lunch is either ugali (a corn flour and water like mixture, pronounced oo-gal-ee) and sukuma wiki (similar to kale back in North America, pronounced sue-kuu-ma wee-key) or githeri (a maize kernel and bean mixture, pronounced gee-there-ee).

A little fun Kenyan fact for you all:

Last night for dinner, we had tacos. They had meat, mashed avocadoes, tomatoes and onions all wrapped up in a chapati (similar to our tortillas back home but a bit more greasy). So yummy! The fun part of this story is that “taco” in Swahili is spelt “tako” and it actually it means “bum/butt”. So you can imagine a Kenyan’s surprise (and probable disgust) when you tell them that you’re favourite food back in North America are tacos.

Tonight’s dinner we had rice and green grams (similar to peas) and for dessert was a half an orange. A yummy meal, I must say.

After dinner, the children are all cleaned up and then it’s a chaotic moment (well more like twenty-thirty chaotic minute moments) of getting all the children into pajamas. The younger ones and babies go to bed pretty much right after that and the older ones clean the dining area and put the clothes away of the younger children.

It’s chaotic but an organized chaotic.

Sean and I (oh yes, and Cindy-Lou) are getting settled in our room for our night. Little Miss Princess demands attention and when I turn my head from her to type, she squeaks at me. So I better do as she says and give her all of my attention. J

Good night everyone. Until tomorrow.

Much Love,

Meredith

Chaos + 104 = Love: Day 2

2011-08-30T21:16:00.003+03:00

And a cold shower I took this morning. Brrrrr!!!!

The children immediately grabbed a hold of the visitors’ legs and it was hook, line and sinker from there on in. The children had ten extra arms to be wrapped up in. They LOVED it.

A little fun Kenyan fact for you all:

Tonight’s dinner we had rice and green grams (similar to peas) and for dessert was a half an orange. A yummy meal, I must say.

It’s chaotic but an organized chaotic.

Good night everyone. Until tomorrow.

Much Love,

Meredith

Mouse in the House: Part 1

2011-05-29T19:48:00.000+03:00

To read the new blog:

click here

It's our new blogspot called Stewarts In Africa.

Enjoy!

Unwelcomed Visitors

2011-05-26T15:47:00.000+03:00

Check out our other blog:

Stewarts In Africa by clicking here

Much love,
Meredith

Back To Life

2011-05-23T10:18:00.004+03:00

We’re home! We got in to Kitale on Wednesday afternoon (early morning for you in the EST).

We have spent the last few days resting (trying to get over the jet lag), unpacking, seeing friends, training our new puppy and loving on our old puppy. Okay, so there hasn’t been that much resting. But we’re back to our life and we are happy.

We left Nairobi at 7:00am on Wednesday to head back to Kitale. Sean and I figured we’ve made it this far; let’s just get up early and go straight home. We had a friend arrange a shuttle for us and we paid for the whole thing – we had quite a bit of luggage and we just really wanted to get on the road. When we were close to home (the last 20 minutes seemed to take FOREVER), we called James and said we would be there shortly.

There was our gate and then there was James, to open it and welcome us home. Here is James’ face when he saw me:

Jack (our 14-month old German Shepherd) was excited to see us. He couldn’t stop running circles around Sean and me, tail wagging like crazy.

We walked in the door and I teared up. We were home. I went to every room of the house (well, skipped to every room) and smiled. I turned to Sean with a big grin on my face and said, “My heart is happy!” Home is definitely where the heart is.

We took James to town and met up with Mark, Derick and Eric and took them for lunch at our favourite restaurant, The Coffee Shop. It was great to see some of our friends in there and get the “Welcome Home” hugs.

After lunch, Sean, James and I headed to town for grocery shopping. We had turned our fridge off while we were in Canada to save on electricity so we had gotten rid of pretty much everything in the house except for a few non-perishables.

That night in our bed was wonderful; I have REALLY missed our bed. It’s seriously the most comfortable bed I have ever slept on.

On Thursday, we picked up our new puppy, Chloe. She’s a twelve-week old Rottweiler and is the cutest thing.

For those of you who don’t know the story, we did have a ten-month Rottweiler named Chloe, before we left for Canada but while we were in Canada, she was poisoned and died. So dear friends of ours here in Kitale, bought us a new puppy (from the same parents as the old Chloe) and were taking care of her until we got back home. We tried to think of another name for this new puppy but because we didn’t have old Chloe for very long – and I have ALWAYS wanted a Rottweiler – we decided to name the new pup Chloe as well. So Sean has spent the past few days training Chloe and getting Jack accustomed to her. She’s just too cute!

On Saturday, we had the Huffmans, the Huckabees (a sweet new couple who just moved to Kenya for a year) and Betsy over for dinner. It was great to have a house full of friends together again. I love cooking for people and setting the table all up and being all hostessy (yes, I know that’s not a word!).

We’re also house-sitting overnight two of Chloe’s siblings while their family is away (yes, that’s three twelve-week old pups – totally fun and cute). They slept well on our front veranda although we did wake up to quite the mess this morning.

Puppies getting ready for a nap in their crate

Sean cleaning up the lovely mess (what a man!).

The yummy puppy food (yes, that's a fish eye).

We finally have the internet up (our phone line was down when we returned) so we’ll be able to communicate with everyone again.

Anyway, that is our update for you. Again, I will try to do regular updates for those inquiring minds out there.

On an emotional side note, thank you Canada for:

1. Letting us see the green grass rather than the white snow (it had been six years of winter in Canada for me).

2. The smell of spring in the air (I love that smell).

3. The leaves on the trees.

4. The flowers beginning to bloom.

5. The beautiful blue jay birds that I got to see.

6. The longer days (daylight until after 8:00pm).

7. Our NAC family rallying around Sean and me and praying for us and loving on us.

8. The ladies’ cell group that I got to be a part of.

9. Our Stewart family for always being there for us and putting up with us.

10. Sean’s dad, who let us drive his Mustang convertible while we were there (sweet ride!).

11. Sean’s mom for her strength and love.

12. Being able to spend Mother’s Day with my mom since it’s been six years since I spent it with her.

13. The great talks that my mom and I had while spending time together.

14. My step-dad, for taking us out on the lake with his beautiful boat and treating us to Mexican Town restaurant (every time we come back to Canada) and cracking jokes with Sean all the time.

15. Time spent with our beautiful nieces and nephews.

16. Hanging out with our siblings.

17. Lunches/Dinners and wonderful/amazing conversations we had with people.

18. ALL OF OUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY who always make it hard to leave because they love us as much as we love them.

Kenya is our home but our friends and family in Canada are never left behind. We are so incredibly thankful for your support and love. You mean so much to us. Please don’t ever forget that!

Much love,

Meredith (& Sean)

Leavin' On A Jet Plane

2011-05-11T07:18:00.002+03:00

It’s here; the time has arrived for Sean and me to head back to Kenya. It’s always a bittersweet time. We’re sad to be leaving our friends and family but excited to be heading home to our other friends and family.

This trip to Canada has been different than other years in so many ways. It’s been an emotional trip: sick family members, working on relationships that needed it, reuniting with old friends, opening up about struggles, grieving over losses and goodbyes, preparing for things to come and so on.

There were times of extreme physical, mental, emotional and spiritual exhaustion. There were times when a good solid cry (as my friend says, “the ones where it’s snot and all!”) was all that we could physically do. And all the other times, we just prayed.

I do have to point out that I have one incredible husband. He is the calmest person I know. He’s a man full of emotions (and not afraid to show them) but he’s also a man full of faith that God has it all worked out. I love and admire my husband for that; he’s a wonderful example and I’m honoured to have him as the head of our family.

On Monday, we’re leavin’ on a jet plane (its okay if you start humming the song!). Our trip will take us from Toronto to London, London to Nairobi and then Nairobi to Kitale. Sometimes I wish that I could just close my eyes, tap my heels together, and say “There’s no place like home; there’s no place like home!”....and voila, we’ve arrived. Do you think it will work? It did for Dorothy.

I haven’t been very disciplined with blogging. I hope to change that. There are many things that are going to be happening and we want to share the journey with you.

Thank you for sticking with us; thank you for praying for us. For those of you in Canada, we’ve enjoyed our time with you. And for those of you in Kenya, we can’t wait to see you all. We’re coming home!!!!

Check out our new blog: Stewarts In Africa

Big News Revealed!!!

2011-04-06T16:29:00.000+03:00

Our lives are a lot like a book.

There’s a beginning and an end and in between, there’s so much of a story to be told. A story can involve romance, adventure, heartache, birth, death, sadness, or happiness. Sometimes a story can involve all of these and so much more.

Most books have chapters. Our lives have chapters. It’s where one part of the story ends but the other part begins.

Our story, Sean’s and mine, is turning the page to a new chapter; a chapter that we are excited to share with you all.

At the end of the summer, our time with Transformed International (www.transformedinternational.org) will be coming to an end. There are big and great things that will be happening with TI in the next year to come but that’s not our story to tell the rest of the world.

Some may ask, “Does that mean you’re moving back to Canada?”

Our answer is, “No. God is not done with us in Kenya.”

As the door began to close with TI, another one opened with a wonderful ministry that we have grown to love. This ministry, similar to TI’s passion, takes care of and loves on the children of Kitale, Kenya.

In the fall of this year, Sean and I will be joining In Step Foundation Children’s Home (www.rehemainstep.com) as house parents. Our dear friends, Jeff & Carla Picicci, are the co-founders of the organization and have run the home, just outside of Kitale, by themselves on the ground, for years now. They have put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into this place but more than those three put together, they have poured an incredible amount of acceptance and love into the lives of the 93 children in this beautiful home.

Ninety-three children???

Yes, you read it correctly; ninety-three children. Well, right now at least. There could be 95 by next week.

All of these children have incredible stories. In most cases, the beginnings of each of their books were usually filled with sadness and brokenness. Not anymore! Each and every one of these children is being cared for and loved.

And Sean and I get to be a part of it. How amazing is that? So amazing! I can’t be thanking God enough for what He has done these past few months; for what He has done in me, in Sean and in our walk with Him.

We hope you’re excited for us because we’re REALLY excited.

We encourage you to check out In Step’s website (www.rehemainstep.com) to get yourself acquainted with it. If you are at all interested in sponsoring one of 93 children that have yet to be sponsored, please look that up on the website. Most of the children need to be sponsored; so go ahead, pick one that melts your heart and tugs at the strings.

And for those of you who love to pray for us, here’s the list:

1. In Step is building a dorm as they need to expand their space. They need approximately $50,000 in two weeks time for the building material. With rainy season having started in Kenya, they need to get the materials on site before it becomes impossible for the massive delivery trucks. Please check the In-Step website on how to donate.

a. Friends, churches, family...any amount works - $10, $100, $1000.....it all counts.

2. Sean and I are going to need medical insurance and it’s quite expensive. If you’d like to donate toward that, please let me know by emailing us at: thestewartsinafrica@gmail.com and we’ll get you the information on where to send it to.

3. Transitions are always sensitive to all involved so pray that the transition runs smoothly and that all gets accomplished.

4. And always pray for the children of Transformed International (www.transformedinternational.org) and of In Step. They are the reason why we love it here so very much!

Thank you everyone for your encouragement, wisdom and prayers. It truly means a lot to us; you have no idea. Please continue to keep an eye on our blog: www.stewartsinafrica.blogspot.com for more information, updates and random life stories. We definitely haven’t reached the end of our book yet.

Much love,

Meredith

Big News Coming Up....

2011-03-23T19:10:00.001+03:00

Sean and I are back in Canada for a visit. We’ve been here a month now. The weather has been pretty good....and then it snowed overnight last night. Green: that’s what I want to see, and trees and flowers budding. The sweet smell of spring; I’d like to be here for it. J

Anyway....

This year, 2011, is going to mark some changes for Sean and me, big changes, changes we are excited about. And we want to share them with you.

So, if you are in the Newmarket, Ontario area, we’d like to invite you to come out and hear us share with you about what 2011 holds for Sean and me.

Date: Sunday, April 3^rd, 2011

Time: 12:30pm

Place: Newmarket Alliance Church (NAC)

1140 Gorham Street (Leslie/Mulock area)

Sean and I are also speaking that morning at our church, NAC, so if you would like to come for the morning service, it begins at 10am. We will then have lunch together and then we’ll share our news with everyone.

We hope that you can all make it. We’d love to see you.

Much love,

Meredith

A Carrot, An Egg or A Coffee Bean

2011-01-29T23:30:00.002+03:00

You will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying A word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.

Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me what you see." "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled, as she tasted its rich aroma the daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its insides became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity?

Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Time In Between

2011-01-07T16:39:00.002+03:00

This is my heart....

It's a song by Francesca Battistelli and I've been listening to it over and over again.

Click the link below to hear the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykS2ZKSzXlk

Below are the lyrics. Enjoy!

Album: My Paper Heart

Song: Time In Between

Artist: Francesca Battistelli

You were there when your Father said
Let there be light
You obeyed when He whispered
Son, You have to leave tonight
To spend nine months in a mothers womb
Three days in a borrowed tomb

(Chorus One)
But it’s the time in between
That brings me to my knees
Knowing you came for me
And all that I can't be
I'm amazed, so amazed
And I thank You for the time in between

Don't take much for this crazy world
To rob me of my peace
And the enemy of my soul
Says You’re holding out on me
So I stand here lifting empty hands
For you to fill me up again

(Chorus Two)
But it’s the time in between
That I fall down to my knees
Waiting on what You'll bring
And the things that I can't see
I know my song’s incomplete
Still I'll sing in the time in between

So many ways
Your love has saved the day
And I'm grateful for them all

(Chorus 3)
But it’s the time in between
The middle of two thieves
That says everything
It’s the reason I believe
I'm amazed, so amazed
And I thank you for the time in between
Oh Lord, I thank you for the time in between

Milka & Sabina

2010-07-05T21:15:00.000+03:00

Our social worker, Anne, came to the staff meeting this morning, telling us of a woman that we needed to meet. This woman’s mother belongs to a friend of ours widow project in a little village called Maili Saba (Mile-ee Sa-ba). Anne was doing assessments on the widows in that area for a food distribution that we’ll be doing next week and this is where Anne met this particular woman.

The woman, the daughter, Milka, showed up to our meeting. She was dressed up for it and I could tell she was nervous about speaking to us.

Anne asked Milka to share the story of her mother, the grandmother to the children. The grandmother’s name is Sabina.

Milka said that her mother, who is seventy years old, is taking care of her grandchildren because her three sons and one daughter died of AIDs. Milka is the only remaining child for Sabina.

Sabina is thankfully living on two points of an acre of her own land and has a house that she and her grandchildren live in. Milka said that her brothers had been very hardworking men when they were alive and that they had built another home on the property as well. The children that Sabina is raising range from age seventeen years old to six months old, totalling about 18 grandchildren. This one seventy year old grandmother is raising her 18 grandchildren because all but one of her children has died of AIDs.

There is a nine year old and the six month old grandchildren that have been confirmed to be HIV+. When their father found out that he was HIV+, he went and got his children tested for it as well. The remaining grandchildren have not been tested but Milka and Sabina feel that about six to eight of the other ones are HIV+ as well.

Milka said that what they needed was 1) to be able to have all the children tested for HIV and 2) to help feed this family. She is a nurse and whenever she can find a contract job, she takes it, just so she can assist her mother and her nieces and nephews. Milka has a family of her own and yet she doesn’t want to see her extended family suffer.

As Milka spoke of her siblings who had passed away; as she spoke about her grandmother and nieces and nephews, tears would well up in her eyes. There came a point when I couldn’t look at her anymore; the tears were welling up in my eyes too. I turned away in time to have them fall down my cheeks.

And when I heard of one of the children being six months old and HIV+, I immediately looked at Sean. Could we take the baby for a little while and get him/her the proper care, nutrition, medicine that he/she needed to survive these fragile next few months? Could we take him/her PLEASE?!?!?!? We have the extra room! We’re ready for this! All these questions, hopes, possibilities kept running through my head. I want so badly, from the moment I heard about this little one, to do it.

My heart ached for Milka. I saw a strong woman, doing what she could for her mother but I also saw defeat and sadness in her eyes.

We’ll be going out there in a few weeks to assess the home and the children to see what can be done. I’ll keep you posted.

In Him,

Meredith

So sick and sad...

2010-07-02T17:01:00.003+03:00

The MP's of Kenya want to give themselves a pay raise....a ridiculous one.

Where will it come from?

The tax payers who are their own people who can barely make ends meet on their $1/day income?

Or from the foreign aid that is supposed to help these people?

Who knows.

Read the link.

http://www.nation.co.ke/News/Not%20with%20Kenyans%20tax%20money/-/1056/950638/-/15irrod/-/index.html

A Whole Lota New....

2010-06-29T14:08:00.000+03:00

I (Meredith) was hoping that I would be able to blog every day on this thing but the past few months have been busy with moving, TI stuff and not having internet at our new home. Thankfully, we do now!

Veronica Home

The first big exciting news is that we opened up our Veronica Home on April 30^th of this year. The Veronica Home was named after our sweet little Veronica Bahati that passed away on July 14^th, 2009 from HIV/AIDS. The Veronica Home is mainly for children that are HIV+. We currently have eight children in the home; some are not HIV+ but have been moved there from another home. We do have three children that are positive; they are: our sweet little Martin, whom you all (or at least those who have read past blogs) know about, our newest girl, Lillian and Lina.

The children have wonderful house parents that TI has been working alongside with for almost two years; we have a new aunt who the kids have immediately loved and new watchmen that are taking good care of watching over our kids.

It’s a wonderful place; the area is beautiful and it has a gorgeous view of Mount Elgon.

Stewart Home

Sean and I moved in to our new house on May 2^nd. We decided that we needed to have our home, being newly married (almost a year and a half now!). It is such the perfect place for us. It’s a four bedroom, three bathroom home that sits on a cute little compound with flowers and banana trees everywhere. We have this huge cabana made of a grass roof and straw and bamboo sides. We have a cool carport....that is empty. We hope to at least put a motorcycle in it in the future.

There is a bedroom and bathroom off to one side of the house that has its own entrance. That is where James sleeps. James used to live at Kaibeiyo Children’s Home (through Symbios), the home that Daniel and I used to work at in Eldoret a few years ago. We’ve hired him on to be our daytime watchman/gardener; it’s a job that will help him to save money for his schooling of agriculture in the next year or so.

The other side of the house has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. One room we’ve made into an office; the second room is a guest room for our friends like Nicole Jeffs (who’s coming in July) and the Stawskis...who I know will be back again soon. The third bedroom is Sean’s and mine. It has an ensuite bathroom with a nice bathtub. Yes, I love it!

It’s a new chapter in our life, having a home of our own now. It’s expensive but it’s quiet, clean and ours to come to every night.

Busy Summer

We have a crazy busy summer this year. There are four teams of people from New York State who will be housing and eating at TI. They are building a children’s home for a friend of ours over the next eight weeks. Danel, Daniel’s mom, is here to help the TI Staff with the teams.

The first team of 13 arrives this coming Saturday (26^th), then as they leave on the 10^th of July, the next group of 10 will be arriving. Then two weeks after that, team two will be leaving and team three of 17 people will be arriving. And then as team three leaves, team four of 9 people will be arriving. This team rotation all ends on August 21^st. Also during the second week of July, we have a team of 9 coming, who are with TI, for 10 days. It’s going to be a crazy few weeks during that time.

Internship Program for 2010

After the teams leave on August 21^st, we have about two weeks to relax and prepare for our 2010 Fall Interns. We have seven interns, all female, who will be a part of the three-month internship program. We have three from Ontario, Canada and the other four are from various parts of the US. We’re really excited to have these young ladies here in the fall, especially Danel and I as we get to spend time with them, grow with them, learn with them, etc. I’m really excited about it.

Ladies Bible Study

I, Meredith, am part of a weekly bible study with other missionary ladies in the Kitale area. It’s been such a wonderful time for all of us ladies. We get together each week and it’s become one of my favourite days of the week, to be around other women, sharing in our passions, our struggles, and our praises. We’ve already done two bible studies, both by Beth Moore (whom we all thoroughly enjoy) and will be starting our third Beth Moore study soon.

Man’s Nights

Sean and a group of other men in our community, get together every few weeks and a have a night together. They usually cook up some meat (and that’s all!) on the BBQ, sit back and enjoy each other’s company. It’s really been a great time for him too; it’s so important to have those times together.

Rachael

On Friday, June 18^th, I (Meredith) went to the hospital to check up on a seven year old girl, Rachael that TI has been assisting for the past few months. Rachael was visiting the section of the hospital for HIV+ people. Rachael got HIV from her parents, whom have both since died and she was being raised by her grandmother.

Rachael was a sickly girl; the “typical” girl that you would see as the poster child for starving African children on the infomercials. I’ve never seen her smile; until Friday. I was getting ready to leave and I walked over to her and told her in Swahili that she was such a beautiful girl and she did good work today here at the hospital and that I was very happy. And as she was strapped to her grandmother’s back, I leaned over and gave her a big kiss and told her that I loved her. It was then that a little smile appeared, on the corner of her mouth. I couldn’t help but beam back; Rachael had smiled.

We had made arrangements for Rachael to move in to the Veronica Home this past week. I was so excited to get her there, for her to have a swarm of brothers and sisters around her who would share things with her, make her laugh. For her to have a mother and father who would take care of her and love her instantly. For her to have a full happy belly and a warm bed to sleep in.

This is what I wanted for Rachael. But it wasn’t what God wanted....

Rachael went to be with Jesus on June 22^nd, in the afternoon.

So she now has a swarm of people, like Veronica, who are making her laugh; she has a Father who loves her more than any mother or father on earth could love her. And she is healthy, whole and loving every minute of it.

I guess this is what I wanted for Rachael....it just came in a different form.

We are saddened by her death but live in the comfort that she is not in pain anymore and that she is with our Father. Death has been such a close to home thing lately, for us, for some of you back home....but I trust in God’s peace; His love and His absolute comfort. His ways are far beyond our understanding at times but I choose to seek more of Him, to desire Him and to have faith in Him.

And so it continues....

I am hoping to become more disciplined on writing updates. Life is never boring, especially after the runaway tuk-tuk story.....which I’ll save for another blog.

Until next time,

Meredith

Songs That Touch...

2010-03-18T12:57:00.004+03:00

Have you ever heard a song or two that just touches you in such a deep way; that just opens the flood gates of tears; that you feel were written and sung just for you?

Here's mine as of lately....

Times - Tenth Avenue North

I know I need You
I need to love You
I love to see You, but it's been so long
I long to feel You
I feel this need for You
And I need to hear You, is that so wrong?

Now You pull me near You
When we're close, I fear You
Still I'm afraid to tell You, all that I've done
Are You done forgiving?
Oh can You look past my pretending?
Lord, I'm so tired of defending, what I've become
What have I become?

I hear You say,
"My love is over. It's underneath.
It's inside. It's in between.
The times you doubt Me, when you can't feel.
The times that you question, 'Is this for real? '
The times you're broken.
The times that you mend.
The times that you hate Me, and the times that you bend.
Well, My love is over, it's underneath.
It's inside, it's in between.
These times you're healing, and when your heart breaks.
The times that you feel like you're falling from grace.
The times you're hurting.
The times that you heal.
The times you go hungry, and are tempted to steal.
The times of confusion, in chaos and pain.
I'm there in your sorrow, under the weight of your shame.
I'm there through your heartache.
I'm there in the storm.
My love I will keep you, by My pow'r alone.
I don't care where you fall, where you have been.
I'll never forsake you, My love never ends.

It never ends."

and....

By Your Side - Tenth Avenue North

Why are you striving these days
Why are you trying to earn grace
Why are you crying
Let me lift up your face
Just don't turn away

Why are you looking for love
Why are you still searching as if I'm not enough
To where will you go child
Tell me where will you run
To where will you run

And I'll be by your side
Wherever you fall
In the dead of night
Whenever you call
And please don't fight
These hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you

Look at these hands and my side
They swallowed the grave on that night
When I drank the world's sin
So I could carry you in
And give you life
I want to give you life

(Chorus 2x)

Cause I, I love you
I want you to know
That I, I love you
I'll never let you go

------------

I break; He mends me

I fall; He picks me up

I cry; He wipes the tears away

I laugh; He laughs along with me

I draw closer; He holds on tighter

I love Him; He loves me

Our Video

2010-01-19T06:11:00.004+03:00

Attached is the video that Sean and I did for speaking engagements. This is a little look at our 2009 year in Kenya. The song is called Change by Carrie Underwood (on her new cd "Play On".)

Enjoy!

Kenya 2009 - Part 11

2009-10-09T15:19:00.001+03:00

A Mini Update

Sorry, it’s been awhile since you got an update from me.

The past month and a half has been crazy…some in good, some not so good. It’s been an emotional year for me, ranging from amazing highs to horrible lows. I’ve had moments and time when I could sit down and just write but the words that are in my head, just can’t seem to get on the computer.

If you follow the TI webpage, you will see that September was a really busy month for us. We had Sandy’s team of five women,Hope 2 Kenya (www.hope2kenya.org), here with us for about two and a half weeks. The TI staff and interns got to be a part of three medical clinics and 2 food distributions. It was incredible to be able to be a part of it and see everyone come together and work and serve for the better of the beautiful Kenyan people. The team also did a medical clinic and food distribution in the Kibera slums; the most famous slum in the world, located in Nairobi, Kenya.

During the time that the Hope 2 Kenya team was here, we had 21 people living on the compound. It was pretty insane at times and the adventure of running out of water on the compound for showers, cooking and cleaning was on the horizon at times but thankfully God provided the water (either through rain or the city finally pumping it) when we were down to a few litres left.

I’m so thankful for the Hope 2 Kenya team coming here and for all the amazing work they did and for including us in it. What a wonderful group of ladies they were.

We are now back to 16 people in the compound. At times I miss the quiet, the freedom to do things or not do things around the house but I really enjoy the community; I enjoy the friendship/relationship building. I enjoy the morning devotions of deep discussions, I enjoy the laughing and I enjoy cooking for 16 people (and also because there are16 people in the house, I don’t have to do most of the cooking anymore!).  This year’s group of people is wonderful and I honestly adore each and every one of them. I too am thankful for them; what a gift they have been to me and my life right now.

On a different note, Sean and I are coming to Canada a little earlier than expected now. We had originally thought we would be back around the end of January 2010 but we’ve decided that we want to come back earlier. So we’re in the process of having our tickets changed for the beginning of December. The exact date isn’t known yet; we’re waiting to hear back from the travel agent but we’ll definitely keep people posted.

We’ve decided to come back to Canada for three months, to rest and relax and spend time with family and friends over a lengthened period of time, rather than rushing all the visits into a short span as that can be extremely exhausting for us. And for those inquiring minds, no, we’re not pregnant and that’s not why we’re coming back to Canada early.

So hopefully at some point during our stay in Canada, we’ll get to see some of you.

Love you all!
Meredith

Thoughts From Meredith

2009-08-26T22:45:00.000+03:00

Being Content in the Present

I’m an organizer, not an obsessive one, but an organizer nonetheless. If I could, I would have my life planned out to the tee. I did try that once, planning my life. I said I would be married by such and such age; have my 2.4 kids by this age; live in this city and have this kind of house…and so on and so on.

And guess what?

It didn’t happen. And what happened with me?

I was pissed; I was hurt; I was frustrated and I was devastated.

Why? Why would I put myself through that?

Was I not happy with where I was at that time so I figured it was better to fantasize about the future? If I couldn’t have control over the present time, perhaps I could have control over the future.

But in reality, I don’t have any more control over the future as I do the present. I don’t know what the future holds so why spend so much time and effort on it when I can be where I’m at today.

It’s difficult to be content in the present when there is so much that I desire that I still don’t have. But then I look at where I’ve come from, the man I married, the place I live, the work I am doing and I realize I couldn’t have planned it all to happen this way, even if I wanted to.

It’s far less stressful to be in the present, loving where I’m at now, who I am now, what I’m doing now and who I’m with now. I choose to enjoy the moments of today and look forward to the moments of tomorrow. But not soak in tomorrow or over organize tomorrow.

I like what God is doing today and I will trust what He will do tomorrow. Why should I figure it all out when He already has?

Enjoy your today everyone!

Kenya 2009 - Part 10

2009-07-29T19:41:00.004+03:00

Martin And A Football

Martin, our five year old (or even six), who has the body of a three year old, in one day had HIV, pneumonia, chicken pox, meningitis and tuberculosis running through him. And he is still alive. This in itself is a complete gift from God.

Today, after six days in the hospital, Martin was discharged. He still has a ways to go but he looks 110% better than what he did when he was going in to the hospital.

He is staying with us for a few days. Since we are only a few minutes from the hospital, if there are any emergencies that come up in the next day or two, we are only a short ride away back to the hospital. And of course, we felt that it would be best for him to stay with us to get some complete spoiling of love and attention. :-)

This afternoon, Daniel was standing by the veranda door, looking outside. He called my name and told me to come and look. [Uncle] Sean had taken Martin outside to play. There was Martin, whom was on way to death, kicking around a football with Sean…a huge smile on his face the whole time. And as Daniel said, “This is why we are here!”

Thank you everyone for your prayers, for your encouraging words and your support. It has truly meant a lot to us.

Much love!!

xoxoxo

Martin....hanging out in the grass.

Martin and his football...

Getting the well deserved and needed rest...

Kenya 2009 - Part 9

2009-07-25T16:14:00.001+03:00

Our Little Strong Martin

Wow!!! What a past few days this has been.

As you all know due to the prayer request and blog update that our little weak Martin was admitted in to the hospital on Thursday. At the time of this news, I was with the women from the PA team at our Neema girl’s house. We came together and prayed for Martin.

On Thursday evening, Nicole and I went to the hospital for a few hours, laying our hands on Martin, praying for healing. While Nicole and I were at the hospital, the rest of the team stayed back and prayed for him.

On Friday afternoon, we heard that his condition had not changed. Most of the team was outside in the yard, getting ready to play football (aka soccer for you North Americans) and before the game started, they got down in the grass, on their knees and prayed for Martin. I put in the Hillsong CD, This Is Our God, and played the song “Healer” a few times, praying and claiming the words the song said for Martin.

Over the past few days, our friends and family back in North America have stepped up in prayer over Martin as well.

And this is the text message we got from Anne, just an hour ago…

“Praise the Lord! He can talk and walk and he has gained appetite. I am excited.”

Yes! Praise be to the Lord! For He has heard our prayers and has answered them. He is our Healer, our Comforter and that has been so incredibly evident this past week.

We continue to pray for Martin; for complete health.

We also want to thank EVERYONE for your support and prayers. For when two or more are gathered in His name, there He is.

We love you all!

Meredith

Healer – Hillsong

You hold my every moment

You calm my raging seas

You walk with me through fire

And HEAL ALL MY DISEASE

I trust in You

I believe that You’re my Healer

I believe that You are all I need

I believe that You’re my Portion

I believe that You’re more than enough for me

Jesus, You’re ALL I NEED

Nothing is impossible for You

You hold my world in Your hands

Kenya 2009 - Part 8

2009-07-23T17:33:00.000+03:00

Not Saying Goodbye, Rather “See you in a little while”

I remember when my grandmother died on February 3^rd, 1998. I remember the pain that ripped through my heart. I remember going to the funeral home and seeing her lifeless body there. I remember that no one could console me. I was devastated with her death; the one woman who knew me better than anyone, whom I had a bond with so strong…I couldn’t imagine her not being a part of my life. I couldn’t imagine her not being in her rocking chair ever again; I couldn’t imagine another Christmas without her. A part of me changed that day…a part of me went missing.

On Tuesday, July 14^th, in the afternoon, we got the devastating news that our sweet nine year old Veronica passed away. She was HIV positive and had contracted chicken pox. The chicken pox were just too strong for her weak immune system.

As I was given the news of Veronica’s death, the same pain ripped through my heart as it did when my grandmother died. As I attended the funeral of Veronica, seeing her lifeless body with her beautiful innocent face, looking as if she were only sleeping, the only thing that could console the unbelievable ache that I was feeling, was consoling one of our other children.

Veronica was nine; my grandmother was in her sixties. My grandmother experienced most of her life; she got married, had children and even knew most of her grandchildren. Veronica will never know of marriage; she will never hold her own child; she will never have grandchildren.

But what both Veronica and my grandmother do know is the love of Christ. They know His face; they know His love.

We are left here on this earth, in sadness, trying to answer the questions, trying to mend our broken hearts, trying to not miss Veronica and the beautiful, spunky and loving spirit she brought in to our lives.

The only thing that I can hold on to is the picture of Veronica, healthy of any disease and pain, dancing around, singing loudly….perhaps with my grandmother….hanging out with Jesus.

I won’t say goodbye to Veronica, instead I say, “See you in a little while!” And then we can dance and sing and hang out with Jesus, together.

Kenya 2009 - Part 7

2009-06-19T19:14:00.001+03:00

Is Paul Right?

A few girls came by to visit us the other night. One of the girls had been in Kenya in 2007 so she knew Daniel and me from back then and had wanted to visit with us.

Anyway, the 3 girls, ages 17, 19 and 21, and I went in to our sitting room and they started asking me about married life, relationship questions, God questions, etc. and I found as we talked, I was getting energized. It could have been the fact that I was having really nice and needed female to female conversation with these girls but when we started talking about incorporating God in to our relations, etc, it was more than just that.

After they had left, Sean, Daniel and I were having dinner together and they both commented that they could see a spark in me when I was talking to those girls. Any question that were asked of me, I didn’t laugh at the silliness of it or rebuke it, but honestly listened and answered appropriately, I even shared with the girls, the struggles of being overly independent in today’s world as a woman and how it has been a bit of an issue for Sean and I; because at times he wants to serve me as his wife and I won’t let him…because I can “do it myself.” I gave them food for thought; I made myself vulnerable and real to them and that allowed them to feel that they could do the same with me and they too shared things with me and it was great! I LOVED it!

And why did I love it? Because I think it stems to the role that women are to carry out - as stated to Titus by Paul in the Bible. It says how the older women are to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to too much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God. (Titus 2: 3-5)

I read a book given to me last year by a friend, in preparation for getting married. The book is called, The Proper Care & Feeding of Husbands by Dr. Laura Schlessigner. It’s surprising how many people know her and I had never heard of her until this book. Dr. Laura is a very out-spoken person and I have found that people either hate her or love her. I, after reading this book, LOVE her.

In her book, she talks about how we as women have emasculated our men over the years. The major cause: we’ve become so independent that we tell our boyfriends, our husbands, our lovers that in reality, we don’t really need them. So why are they there? To give us children? To fit the status of being married? To snarl at when we’re pms’ing? To fill our physical desires?

Dr. Laura believes “it’s a result of the women’s movement, with its condemnation of just about everything male as evil, stupid, and oppressive, and the denigration of female and male roles in families, as a well as the loss of family functioning as a result of divorce, day care, dual careers, etc….The result is women get married thinking largely about what their marriage and their man can do for them, and not what they can do for their men.”

Men are simple creatures, who come from a woman, are nurtured and brought up by a woman, and yearn for the continued love, admiration and approval from a woman, it makes them vulnerable to their woman’s moods, desires, tantrums, criticism, disappointments, dissatisfactions, angers and rejections. Women need to better appreciate the magnitude of their power and influence over men, and not misuse or abuse it.”

It’s been interesting to have been single for so long and have married friends around me over the years. I have been able to sit back and watch how the couples interact and the on-going joke of “who wears the pants in the family!”

One of the many things that I have noticed to be common in many of the marriages is the “it’s my way or the highway” mentality that women get. Here’s a common scenario:

It’s Saturday morning and the wife complains that the house is dirty and it needs to be cleaned. She mumbles how she always has to clean the house by herself, etc. The husband asks if he can help, wanting to remove some of the burden off his wife (and not deal with her crabbiness or mumbling about it for the rest of the weekend). The wife asks him to help by vacuum the house, or clean the kitchen or whatever room. So the husband goes and does it. A little while later, the wife comes along and says things like, “You missed a spot,” or “It’s not clean enough,” or etc. Instead of thanking him for helping, we say, “It’s not good enough!” or “Why did you do it THAT way?” Do you think the next time you want him to help you clean something; he’s going to want to do it?

Dr. Laura says: “Wives need to remind themselves that when their husbands do something differently from how they would do it themselves; it does not constitute a breach of sanity or a display of contempt. It is merely a DIFFERENT way to do something.” So look at it that way.

Also: “In the real world of humans, women have a unique urge toward bonding and nesting and nurturing. Men have a unique urge toward protecting, providing and conquering….Men are doers; simple, straight-line types. The reason they have a tendency to rescue damsels in distress is because of their need to be admired for their chivalry.”

So why don’t we let them? Why don’t we let them be the man that God created them to be? We women watch the chick flicks and saw, “Awweeeee…” when the guy says something beautiful and romantic to the girl. We watched the Disney films when we were younger and wanted a Prince Charming to slay the dragon and gave us such a kiss that it would wake us up from a coma.

We wanted our heroes so why don’t we let them be our heroes?

Last week, Sean and Daniel were outside having some guy time and I was in the house, getting ready for bed. I pulled the “decorative pillows” (some of you ladies know what I mean!) off the bed, when I saw a gecko on MY pillow. It scared me at first and so I let out a scream. The scream of a woman “awoke” Sean and Daniel.

Now if I had been alone that night, I probably would’ve dealt with it myself (as I did in 2007 with a giant rat in my bedroom with the help of one of rat-phobic female intern) but the fact that I had Sean, my husband, who I know would love to “protect” me from the evil gecko, I text messaged Sean to come and get this gecko for me. And when he got it out of the bedroom, I thanked him for getting rid of it for me. And it made him happy to know that I needed him.

Women aren’t weak, that’s not what I’m saying. But what I am saying is that we need to realize that men were created different than us and their uniqueness, their needs, their desires should be just as important and in the forefront as our own.

It’s difficult wanting to be the wife that I am supposed to be and not the wife/woman that the world has taken in and accepted. I don’t want to be the head of the household. I want to submit to my husband.

Paul is writing to the church, in Ephesians 5. You know, the famous and often disputed section on “wives and husbands” and how it talks about wives submitting to their husbands? Many women loathe the word submit, thinking it means that they become the doormat for their husbands. That’s not what it means at all. Sometimes we forget what the rest of the section says.

Here’s the husband’s responsibility: “Husbands, love your wives, just as CHRIST LOVED THE CHURCH and gave himself up for her, to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkly or any other blemish, but holy and blameless.”

Wow….what a responsibility! Our husbands are told to love us like Christ loved the church. Christ died for us, He sacrificed himself for us. And that is what a husband is to do for his wife…to love her unconditionally, as Christ loves us. Where do the husbands even begin to love like that?

If we know Christ and love Christ…we submit and surrender ourselves to Him. If we know our husbands well and their relationships with God and know how much our husbands are desiring to be like Christ…then submitting, surrendering ourselves to our husbands should be just as understandable and desirable to do.

Yeah, I know I’m not an expert at the marriage (and children) advice (only being married for 4 months and not having any children yet) but going back to the beginning of my story…helping these young women (and hopefully other young women in the future), by sharing my experiences in my younger years, in mine and Sean’s engagement time and in to the few months of marriage, revived me. Sharing with them that although Sean and I don’t have any major issues, there were still minor struggles during the engagement and early marriage due to my way of thinking on things. It was wonderful…doing what we women are really designed to do, submitting to our husbands and mentoring/training the younger women…I felt fulfilled and refreshed after doing it.

So what’s the answer to my blog question: Is Paul Right???? Hmmm…..imagine that? Paul, through his obedience and relationship with God, actually knew what he was talking about.

Kenya 2009 - Part 6

2009-06-17T09:53:00.001+03:00

Not My Strength

I woke up this morning to Sean saying, “Wake up babe. It’s time to get up.” We have adapted a great routine of getting up early (between 5:30-6:00) in the morning to spend time in the Word together and pray together. It’s a great way to start the day.

We laid in bed for a few minutes and I told Sean the dream that I had just had. Here it is (in italics):

I was walking along a big beautiful river. The current was fairly strong on it. There was the path that I was walking along one side of the river, with trees overhanging the path. The other side of the river too, was covered in trees. There were flower bushes with so many different types of flowers…the colors of the flowers, the scent of the flowers, the songs of the birds..all of it was so peaceful, fresh.

I looked up to see this bird circling a spot in the river…it was searching for that perfect section for fish. And then finally it dove, a straight dive for the water. Under it went, for what seemed like forever. I jumped as it burst through from under the water in to the air, with a fish in its beak.

I loved it. I was fascinated by it. I wanted to be like this bird. So I took of my sandals and with my clothes on, I dove in to the water. It was cool, so refreshing. The current was strong, stronger than I thought. But for a moment, I didn’t worry. I looked above my head and there again was the bird, circling the water, finding its food. And then it dove. Only a few feet from where I was. Again, it seemed like forever that the bird was under water and then I jumped. The bird bursted out of the water, splashing me. It was that close to me. I laughed out loud in complete delight. And again two more times, the bird dove and bursted out of the water. And each time, I laughed out loud.

But then I realized how strong the current really was and how far it had dragged me downstream. I began to get worried. I started to swim with all my might to the edge of the river, to grab a hold of something, anything to get out of the water.

And then Sean said, “Wake up babe. It’s time to get up.” It was only a dream.

After I told Sean the dream, we laid there for a moment in silence. I was replaying the dream over and over again. And then it brought me back to a day in late September or early October of 2005, when I was here in Kenya.

A family member of a friend was going through some extremely difficult times. The family member, who was in Canada, was battling with some addictions. So we as a group of friends, in Kenya, gathered around one morning and began to pray for this guy. As we were praying and sharing Bible verses of God’s promises, I was given a vision of this guy. The vision was this (the guy’s name has been changed):

I saw Ben in a big rushing river. He was being banged around by the waves and rush of the current. He was pulled under water, smacked against rocks. But every time Ben managed to come up for air, there was always a strong tree branch extending over the river. Ben would try to grab the branch but he would miss it or give up trying to reach for it. He would then be dragged back under the water and again smacked against the rocks.

Ben became so exhausted; he was broken and bruised, the current and waves were just too strong for him. He was sucked under the water again and when he finally came up; there was another tree branch in front of him and he reached, reached. The branch bent down just a little bit more so that Ben could grab it…and the branch pulled him out of the deadly water.

As I shared the vision with the others in the room, we saw it clearly. The addictions, the sadness, the helplessness was drowning Ben, breaking him, bruising him and God was giving out His hand (the branch) saying, “I will rescue you.”

I shared this with Sean this morning…and as I was telling Sean about the vision I had in 2005, God said to me:

“Meredith, you are stronger than the current because you have Me.”

I’m not battling addictions or depressions so don’t be alarmed on that. But what I do battle is the feeling that I can’t be the complete woman that God intended for me to be, that I can’t save every malnourished child in this country, that I can’t wipe out the AIDs that has entered the bodies of so many people, including some of our very own children.

And so I read Philippians 4…as I do in times like this. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (vs.6-7). I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. For I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me. (vs. 11-13)

Again…

“Meredith, you are stronger than the current because you have Me.”

Kenya 2009 - Part 5

2009-05-26T15:47:00.003+03:00

It’s All So Surface…

I was in a meeting today with a Kenyan woman from our area. She had called to meet with me over some issues pertaining to some children she knows.

After we got the business stuff discussed and dealt with, I felt myself looking at her, on a deeper level. I found myself saying, with all sincerity and compassion, “You know, if you ever want to get together for tea and just talk, share things, I would love to do that.” And in that moment her body language changed; her shoulders sank down, she clasped my hands and smiled this beautiful smile. She said, “You don’t know how much that means for me to hear that. It’s difficult being a pastor’s wife, you know.”

Although I’m not a pastor’s wife, I knew what she meant…having to live up to certain expectations, being under a telescope by the congregation and people of the town. She explained that although she loves helping and encouraging others, very rarely does she get to let out her frustrations, her hurts, her pains and her struggles because so often people are sharing theirs with her. And should she want to share, how quickly could it be spread among, first the congregation and second around the town?

And so I offered my ear, my confidentiality, my friendship to her….and she was incredibly thankful.

Also, during this meeting time, I noticed a couple with a small child sitting at the table beside us. At first, I noticed the child, a little girl about eight or nine months old but as I looked more closely at the couple, I noticed the complete separation of the two. They didn’t speak to one other. The husband was on the phone talking and when he wasn’t on the phone, he was holding his daughter, talking to her. The wife sat there, like a piece of furniture. Neither one of them engaged the other in conversation.

It saddened me because this is how friendship has become…everywhere. We’ve become all surface in our relationships and friendships today. We lack the foundation, the communication, the honesty that comes with them.

I looked up on the internet for a definition of friendship; there were so many but this one, this one I really liked:

Friendship is the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring all right out just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful friendly hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping and, with a breath of comfort, blow the rest away.
Source: A Life for a Life

When the pastor’s wife told me that she lacks the honest friendships due to fear that her “issues” will arise in the congregation, I understood her fear. Things like gossip, judgment, competition and jealousy have destroyed friendships. We cannot trust our “closest” friends because we fear that 1) they will tell others or 2) they will judge us for our issues.

We tend to not want to grow into friendships with others because we are jealous of what they have and therefore bitterness enters our hearts. Or we decide it’s better to compete against them, rather than run along side them.

This is what has continually broken down the body of Christ. The people we should be able to trust the most are the ones that we end up trusting the least. Jesus said, “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:12-13). And what have we done – the opposite. Rather than laying down our lives for our friends, we’ve pushed our friends in front of the moving vehicle, allowing them to become the targets. The targets of gossip, judgment, competition and jealousy.

I’ve seen the ramifications of the “Singles Club”, the “Dating Club”, the “Married Club”, the “Married with Children Club”. And everyone who doesn’t fit whatever category at whatever time in their life is left out. Friendship isn’t a club, it’s a relationship. And unfortunately for those “clubs”, they could be missing out on some amazing people to have a relationship with. And the damage it does to the ones being “left out”…the mistrust, the insecurities, the loneliness…and the destruction of The Body.

Then there are the people that call everyone in their life, their best friend and it usually turns out that “You’re everybody’s best friend but nobody’s real friend.” It’s just a popularity contest; we want everyone to like us, to be the welcome committee, to be party central but at the end of it all, there’s no quality, only quantity. And that is where the realness of who we could be to each other becomes non-existent.

I’m tired of surface friendships. I miss the intimate friendships; the ones that you can be who you are, in seriousness and silliness and know that not a moment of gossip or judgment will enter. This can be a lonely world and at times a girl needs girlfriends and the guy needs male-bonding time. And wouldn’t it be a better place if we could remove the quantity and stick to the quality.

Friendship is a personal relationship shared between each friend for the welfare of the other….it is the relationship of trust, faith and concern for each others feelings. It is a relationship of mutual caring and intimacy among one another. A friend is one who knows you as a person and regards you for what you are and not what he or she is looking to get. [They] are ones who accept the good as well as the bad qualities of his friend also takes an initiative in correcting and mending them. Friendship is the distinctive kind of concern for your friend, it is a relationship of immense faith and love for each other…A true friend does not consist of a huge number of friends you keep but it is valued by its worth and capability to hold you and stand by you in all phases of life.
Source: http://ezinearticles.com/?Definition-of-Friendship---A-Few-Facts&id=1267049

Kenya 2009 - Part 4

2009-05-14T16:51:00.003+03:00

It Strikes Again

As per my previous post, we have been celebrating and continually praying for Lina’s results of HIV to remain negative.

On Tuesday, we found out that one of our other children at our children’s home, is HIV positive…something we never even thought or considered to be a possibility.

A few weeks ago, we noticed that, Veronica had been losing weight and not feeling well. Last Saturday, she showed some sores that she had on her body. It had been alarming all of us, her weight loss and now the sores on her body. So on Tuesday, the home manager took Veronica to the district hospital and when she was being examined, they decided to give her an HIV test…which came out positive.

The home manager brought Veronica (along with Lina and Susan) over to our house after the visit to the hospital and told us the news. Daniel, Sean and I just looked around at each other – all of us thinking the same thing and all of us fighting to hold back the tears.

I called Veronica over, put her on my lap and held her. I didn’t want to let her go. There in the other room was Lina, with so much energy and laughter, almost like she feels the HIV is gone and here on my lap is Veronica, exhausted, sad and sick.

So in the moments of excitement and anticipation for Lina, there are moments of heartbreak and sadness for Veronica.

So we pray! We pray for the same for Veronica that we are praying for Lina. That’s all we can do for now: cover Veronica with not only hugs, kisses and love but with prayer too.

Kenya 2009 - Part 3

2009-05-12T12:57:00.000+03:00

Still Negative

There have been many days when I have wanted to sit down and write but there’s nothing. My fingers just wouldn’t type or I would just leave my computer and do something else. There have been many nights when I would lie awake and think that I needed to write but when morning came, again nothing. I’ve had so much to write, yet feel like I’ve had nothing to say.

The Stawski’s have left and are back in Canada, hopefully getting back in to some sort of routine. Our friend Dave, from Reno, left yesterday evening on a flight from Kitale to Nairobi and left late last night on his flight to head back to the US.

Daniel arrived back in Kenya safe and sound, a little over a week ago. And Sean and I are doing great; still in the honeymoon stage and loving the time we have together. For those inquiring minds that want to know….there is no baby yet so you can stop taking bets. :-) I’m learning to release it to God; that His timing is perfect on when a baby will arrive (and we’ve only been married for three months!) so, please release it to God and rely on His timing too! :-)

On a sadder note, one of our sponsored children was raped in April, by a neighbour. There are some legal investigations going on so I can’t speak much about it but I do ask that you pray for this girl. She is 13 years old and is having a very difficult time. For some of us ladies, we can understand the emotions she is going through and we can know just what to pray for. Once the legal issues are over, she will be moved to a safer location. If I can keep you posted regarding this young girl, I certainly will.

Now on a better update. It’s about Lina/Linda (side note for you….her name is really Lina but we’ve called her Linda…but I will start just referring her to Lina). The many tests done on her for HIV are still coming up negative; the disease is somehow still “gone”. They have run a whole other set of tests and the results should be available in the next few weeks. If these tests come up negative as well, then they won’t run tests on her again for another three months. If those tests (in three months time) are negative, then they will wait another three months and run the last set of tests again. If those tests come up negative, then she will be cleared of having HIV. This, my friends, is our prayer!!!!

The last few weeks of seeing Lina, she has been full of life and energy. She runs around and plays. Last week, she curled up on my lap and fell asleep from the exhaustion of just doing kid things. It’s wonderful to see her with this new breath of life and we can only pray that this continues that she will live to be a young woman, a wife, and an old woman, full of energy, fun and love.

It’s good being back in full swing here although I feel like I desperately need a vacation. Being in Canada for two months was great but it wasn’t really a vacation; planning a wedding took a lot of work. J But if a vacation is to come, it needs to be pretty much in the next four weeks as the rest of the year is quite a busy one.

We have a youth team from Sean’s and my church coming in June for a little over a week. Then a friend of mine (don’t know if it’s still not out in the open yet so I wont’ give the person’s name) is coming to Kenya, around the time the youth team is leaving and then we have another team coming about a week after the youth team leaves. August is my busy month because its sponsor’s update month and then September our Internship Program begins. We will have a packed program this fall and it looks like it will be a great group. I’m excited for it…for the big group of community to start again.

Please continue to keep us, Daniel, Sean and me, in your prayers. They can always be used…and sometimes much needed.

Love to all!

Kenya 2009 - Part 2

2009-04-07T16:17:00.000+03:00

Positive to Negative

Our friends Mike and Kris Stawski and their 2.5 year old daughter, Kathleen are visiting with us here in Kenya for 3.5 weeks. The day after their arrival, we arranged a day in the Nairobi National Park. The first stop in the Park was…the Elephant Orphanage.

The elephant orphanage is this amazing place that rescues and rehabilitates orphaned or abandoned baby elephants. These baby elephants go through therapy (as it’s been found that they suffer similar emotional issues as us humans do based on deaths in the family, abandonment, stress, etc.). They are slowly integrated back in to the wild where they will be able to live the rest of their lives like all other elephants.

We were told by the keepers of the orphanage that one of the oldest elephants in the nearby park was originally from the orphanage. When a new orphan or abandon elephant, goes to their new home in the wild, the oldest elephant in the park, literally comes and greets the newcomer and welcomes him/her in to their herd. This oldest elephant, knowing (as elephants have a fantastic memory) the pains of “being the new kid on the block”, makes the new addition to the family….feel just like a part of the family. It’s quite amazing to hear the stories of the elephants.

The elephants at the orphanage range from 3 months to 18 months. We got to watch them being fed milk from bottles (very large bottles that were empty in a matter of moments), play with each other and of course, roll around in the mud water. We even got to rub the top of the head of one of the elephants.

Kathleen was in her glory. It’s been a week and she still keeps saying, “Can we see the elephants today?” Perhaps, with each day that passes, her heart will be a little less broken when she’s told that we aren’t going back to see the elephants. :-)

Visiting the rest of the park was great. We got to see zebras (hundreds of them), giraffes, cape buffalo, ostriches, gazelle and baboons. Just to name a few. It was nice to sit back and enjoy the hot African sun and the beautiful scenery and wildlife all around us.

We arrived back in Kitale last Thursday evening and spent Friday, relaxing and allowing the Stawski’s some time to get settled.

On Saturday, we took the Stawski’s out to HBF to introduce them to our kids. It was such a fun day. The children sang and welcomed the Stawski family. Of course, the kids were all enthralled by a white child. They kept staring at Kathleen, wanting to play with her or laughing when they heard her talking in English.

Most of the day, I had either Lucy (the new addition to the home) or Linda (whom you all know about) on my lap. Both were a bit in need of some physical touch, cuddling time…and I love to provide that. At one point, I had Linda curled up in my lap when Zipporah, the manager came in and sat down beside me to talk about Linda.

Zipporah began to tell me that about a week before Linda was taken to the hospital, for a routine check-up and her medication for her HIV. The hospital did some updated tests and when they got the results back, Linda’s HIV test came back NEGATIVE!!!! The hospital was stumped…how could an HIV positive girl suddenly come up HIV negative???? They ran some more tests and have sent them to a specialized hospital to look at the situation a bit further, a bit deeper.

When Zipporah told me this, it took everything I had to not burst in to tears. I clung a little bit tighter to Linda and said a prayer, “Please God; please let her be healed.”

I had to share the news with Sean and his response was the same as mine. I could see the tears well up in his eyes but he managed to fight them from falling down his face too.

Linda has another doctor’s appointment on either April 12th or 13th and we’re hoping she’ll have the results back the specialized hospital. We don’t know what the results will hold…perhaps it was a misreading or further testing to confirm that she still is positive…or perhaps, which is what would be so amazing and a miracle far more than I could imagine….our little girl being healed.

God can do amazing things….and whatever the outcome is…positive or negative…I will continue to pray that Linda doesn’t spend her life fighting a deadly disease but instead spends her life laughing and dancing and making her dreams come true.

Kenya 2009 - Part 1

2009-03-28T13:02:00.001+03:00

So Much Going On…

Wow, it’s been since December since I have blogged/wrote a note. The past few months have been a whirlwind.

As you all know, Sean and I left Kenya in December of last year to head back to Canada to visit with our family and friends…and to plan our February wedding. Our two months back in Canada was incredibly busy but it was great to spend those 8 weeks with our family and friends.

On February 21st, Sean and I got married in our church back in Canada. It was an absolutely beautiful day; the sun was shining and the ceremony and reception were perfect. We couldn’t have asked for a better day.

We spent our honeymoon in Niagara Falls. Now some of you Canadians may be thinking or saying, “Why Niagara Falls? Why not somewhere hot and sunny?” Well, for one….we didn’t care where our honeymoon was; we were together (cheese I know!) and two, it’s all about financial budgets and thirdly, we live in hot, sunny Africa….so going somewhere south…what would be the point? :-)

Sean and I returned to Kenya on March 2nd. It was weird being back as a married couple at first. Sean and I have moved our bedroom in to what used to be the girl’s dorm; the forbidden male area, so our first night, we felt guilty, like we were breaking the house rules…but we quickly got over it.

Being married here now, has its changes. I’m now considered officially a “mama!” and Sean is a “baba!” (father in Swahili). Even though we don’t have children of our own yet, being married now, gives us those titles. Also, we have gained even more respect here. A married woman or man is to be more respected than a single woman or man….we’ll see if that really happens! The other thing I learned from a Kenyan friend is that now that Sean and I are married, if there are situations to be discussed, people will go to my husband, not to me. Perhaps that’s how the hierarchy. In some ways, it’s kind of nice. Sean’s gets the text messages, “We need to have a meeting!” and not me. :-) Sean has really stepped up his role here; God is giving him a lot of wisdom in how to deal with situations and issues as they arise. It’s kind of cool to see it happening!

Since our arrival back home, it’s been non-stop busy. We’ve been catching up on things that we’ve missed the past two months; we’ve been visiting our projects that we’ve missed so much while we were away.

When we were going to visit HBF, we told the manager but asked her not to tell the children. We arrived with goodies to celebrate (juice and treats) getting to see the children again; when they saw us, they came screaming, “Auntie Mary! Uncle Sean! Auntie Mary! Uncle Sean!” We were bombarded by 30 hugs and kisses; in that moment, it made me realize just how much I missed my kids. They wanted to hear about the wedding and see pictures. Unfortunately we weren’t going to have the pictures until April so they had to be okay with the little pictures they could see from Facebook on our mobile phones. They said they had never seen a wedding dress like mine before (the traditional African dresses are VERY different). The girls giggled at “Uncle Sean in a suit!” so it will be quite interesting to hear what they say when they see ALL the real pictures in a few weeks.

We also went to visit our girls at Neema’s. They were also really excited to see us back; but a bit disappointed at the fact that we didn’t have real pictures of the wedding for them to see. I don’t think they liked having to settle for the small Facebook photos either. The girls are doing fantastic. We did an update and picture on the TI webpage of the girls. To check it out, go to: www.transformedinternational.org. And go to Update/Blog on the left hand side of the page.

The street kids were excited to see me back; running to me when they’d see me for the first time. They’d tell me in Swahili that I’ve been gone long and I tell them I returned from Canada and then point to Sean and say that we got married. The kids would start to cheer, smack Sean’s and my hands, saying, “It’s good! It’s good!”

It’s been great visiting our children at the different projects. And I’ll be doing a lot more of that in the month of April, as its sponsorship update month. We also have our friends Mike & Kristina and their 2.5 year old daughter, Kathleen, coming to visit Kenya for the month of April. Sean and I will be traveling to Nairobi next week to pick them up and bring them back to Kitale. Please pray for safe travels for them.

I’ll keep up to date on the blogs/notes from now on…

Meredith

Preparing To Leave....

2008-12-17T07:02:00.000+03:00

How do I start my blog? How do I write all the emotions that I’ve been going through the past two weeks? I have had moments of joy and excitement and moments of sadness and depression.

As I prepare to leave Kenya on Saturday, I’m filled with so many different emotions. I know I’m only away from Kenya for two months but it seems like a lifetime to me right now. Yet, I’m SO excited to be coming to Canada to visit family, friends and prepare for the new chapter in my life – becoming a wife to an amazing man (craziness!).

About a week and a half ago, I hit a rock bottom, something I haven’t hit in a VERY long time. I’m continuing to process through things, continuing to understand things and of course, continuing to learn things. It’s been a great time for me to increase my trust in God, to have deep conversations with Him, to expose myself, my fears and my heart to Him even more. I had days of complete breakdown in tears if someone asked me how I was doing, or if I held one of my kids at HBF or hugged on a street kid.

Last Tuesday, Sean and I spent the night out at HBF, our last day/night with them. We arrived in the late afternoon, the children ran over to us, “Auntie Mary, Uncle Sean! Auntie Mary, Uncle Sean!” We did crafts and took lots of pictures together. When it was time for bed, I went to the girl’s room and us girls sat up for a few extra hours, talking, laughing and sharing stories. When I curled in to a bed that I was going to share with Lydia, I cried, overwhelmed that I was not going to see them for the next few months.

As Sean and I were getting ready to leave the next day, I told the kids that I would see them in a few months. Stella, Veronica and Linda told me, “No Auntie Mary, you’re not going!” After a bit of discussion, they feared that after getting married in Canada, I would decide to stay there and not come back. So they thought that if I didn’t leave Kenya, then it would be a safe bet that I’d be staying here. I had to promise them that I was coming back to Kenya but even as I was leaving, their hugs were a little tighter, a little longer and the whispers of “Nakupenda Auntie Mary!” (means I love you) in my ear, brought the emotions to the surface again.

On Friday, we had our second annual TI Christmas Party for all of the children in our sponsorship program at our compound. There were over 250 people that came and yes, most of them children. It was amazing!!! I have to say that we were quite organized this year. We hired people to be the cooks so that we could spend more time with the children and guests. Each of our projects prepared a song as entertainment to the whole group…that was so entertaining. Each child in our sponsorship program received a gift bag that included pencils, erasers, candy, toothbrush and an extra gift: a toy for the little ones and a t-shirt/top/ for the older ones. Thank you so much to Newmarket Alliance Church for their support this year in sponsoring the Christmas Party. It was a complete success. The TI website will have an update with lots of photos on it early next week. Check it out at: www.transformedinternational.org

This final week here has been a busy one. I’m visiting the remaining projects to do the updates on our children for the sponsors back in North America. In the evenings, we are visiting with friends to say “see you in a few months” to. Sean and I leave Kitale on Friday morning and will spend the night in Nairobi. I’ll pick up my wedding dress on Saturday, do the updates on two kids that we sponsor in the Soweto slums and then Sean and I will be “leaving on a jet plane” on Saturday night (Kenya time), arriving in Toronto on Sunday night (EST time).

I’m not one that minds Change; life is full of them; but depending on what the Change is, I just sometimes have a hard time getting used to them. I remember seeing a bumper sticker or a sign once that said something along the lines of change is something that never changes…it will always be there. I’m simply changing my location for a few months from my home in Kenya to my second home in Canada. I’m changing my status from single to married. And although I’ll miss my home here like crazy for those two months, I’m beyond excited for the change that is to come -- becoming Sean’s wife.

So, for my family and friends here in Kenya, I’ll simply say, “I’ll see you in a few months!” and to my family and friends in Canada, “I’ll see you in a few days!”

I love you all so very much.

Night at the hospital...

2008-11-29T21:29:00.000+03:00

I sit in the hospital room, watching Linda color a book with the crayons that I brought. She sits in a white metal hospital crib with one side pulled down all the way. I’m sitting in a lawn chair next to the crib, looking around the room or at Linda, especially when a cough or funny sound comes from her.

In the room there are seven beds, five of them are twin size beds, two of them cribs. All the twin beds are occupied, three with mothers and their children and the other with a grandmother and her granddaughter. One crib is occupied by Linda, the other one empty. It, based on what the nurse just suggested (well more like demanded of me!), will probably house me in a little while as my bed…once the eyelids get heavy.

It’s now 9:00pm and most of the moms and the grandmother are sleeping. There is one mother and her son who are still awake. The mother tells me that her son, Kiprop, is suffering a bad chest cold. He can’t get comfortable and is constantly coughing and gasping for air. His mother is trying to be patient but loses it from time to time by “clicking” at him (which is a not so nice thing here – shows and relays that you’re annoyed or angry with the person) or tells him sternly to “BE QUIET!!”

I ask Linda if she is tired; she says yes. I have her lie down and pull the blanket up to her chin. I tuck her in nice and tight, kiss her all over the face and say good night. She laughs and then snuggles in to her blanket and closes her eyes.

Four minutes later, the silence in the room is broken by a nurse and her cart. She has come to do the evening medication run for the children. Her bedside manners definitely need quite a bit of tweaking. Another nurse comes in; I like her. She’s really nice and gentle with the children; she even calls Linda “sweetie”. Perhaps because I’m there but she’s nice to all the others too. The mothers and grandmother spend the next few minutes pulling out the medication and medical “chart” (which is more like a piece of paper) of their children.

Here, the parents/guardians are responsible to buy all necessary medication and equipment (i.e. needles, IV necessities, etc.) they are also responsible to bring/buy their own bed sheets, blankets, cups and eating utensils for overnight stays. Nothing, except the bed, the mattress and the nurses/doctors is supplied by the hospitals.

I watch the nurse hook a bag full of blood on the wall and connect the IV into the little boy on the bed next to Linda. He’s no more than two years old and I was told that he doesn’t have enough blood in his body so they need to give him blood. Two other mothers come over to watch the blood drip from the bag, through the IV and into the boy’s hand. They talk with the mother as he fights to get comfortable and is a bit upset of the pain of the IV needle.

As the nurses are getting ready to leave, the grandmother with her granddaughter stands up in the middle of the room and starts shouting/singing and then begins doing an African dance. Linda bursts out laughing; what a beautiful laugh (and it helps to drown out the sound of the screaming baby down the hall). The grandmother entertains for about 30 seconds, then sighs, and crawls back into her and her granddaughter’s bed, under the mosquito net and drifts off to sleep.

Linda is now wide awake. She starts gibbering off in Swahili to me. With hand jesters between the two of us and the Swahili that I know, we actually communicate very well. She shows me her IV needle in her hand, although there’s no IV attached to her now. She says she doesn’t like it and it hurts too much.

Now it’s 9:25pm and Linda is hungry again. Just two hours ago, she ate a chicken leg with roasted potatoes. This is a great sign – having her appetite back. I give her about two mouthfuls of my Coke. She likes the fact that we’re sharing my Coke with each other she then asks for her bread and starts to dip her bread in to her Coke. I make a grossed out look on my face and we both burst into laughter.

The little boy, Kiprop, at this point is very fussy. He’s whining and coughing uncontrollably. It sounds likes he’s coughing up his lungs and on the verge of vomiting. His mother is getting impatient and frustrated; she’s tired and just wants to go to sleep. She raises her voice at him but she seems to fail in realizing that the louder and more frustrated she gets, the more upset he becomes and the worse his whining and coughing are. My heart breaks for him.

Linda is now done dipping her bread in to her Coke. I remove the cup and bag of bread from her bed. She wants to go to sleep now so I tightly tuck her back under the blanket and cover her with kisses and say good night to the sound of her laughter.

In the distance, I can hear chanting. It quite possibly could be a number of people praying in unison. I don’t go to check it out; I instead stay and wait for Linda to fall asleep.

It’s now 10:00pm and Linda has fallen asleep quite quickly. I decide to get ready for bed and make a last trip to the not-so-clean toilet and hopefully off to sleep I can go.

As I head to the toilet, I realize that the chanting that I hear is mothers and grandmothers singing softly in the next ward. When I walk by again, they are now praying; the prayers are loud, powerful and some very tearful.

A few minutes later, the prayers have stopped; the only sounds in our room are now Linda’s breathing and a few whining noises from Kiprop and the snoring of his mother.

About ten minutes later, Kiprop’s whining increases into tears of pain and discomfort. He cried through is tears, “Mama! Mama!” She curses at him once and then I hear her snoring again. Again Kiprop says, “Mama! Mama!” over and over again. I go over to console him but then the mother looks over and seems me coming toward them so she pulls out her breast and puts it to his mouth to feed. It quiets him for about three minutes where he then begins again. His mother is furious at this point and some of the others in the room are getting a bit agitated. She clicks at him, tells him to shut up and then ignores him.

I hear Linda toss a bit in the bed; I look over and thankfully she stays asleep despite Kiprop’s whining and calling out to his mother. Kiprop is now sobbing and in between the sobs, he’s gasping for air and then coughing. His mother clicks at him, telling him be quiet and goes back to sleep. This happens over and over again. When I hear she’s snoring and out like a light and he’s still whining, I go over to their bed and kneel down in front of him. I start to rub his cheek, his face and his head. He immediately calms down, and moves his head in the motion of my hand…harder into my hand to feel my touch against his face. He actually begins to close his eyes and starts to fall asleep. I gently lay him down next his mother. He’s quiet and falls asleep.

I can feel the cold night air coming in through the glassless window door that separates us from the outside. Linda has three blankets; one as a pillow, one underneath her and one over top of her and I’m not about to steal any of her blankets. I’ll just put on my sweatshirt and socks…that should work.

I thinks its now bedtime. I crawl in to the crib (a little small but the fetal position always works!) but no sleep right away.

It’s around 11:40pm and Linda wakes up and looks in the direction I was sitting in when she fell asleep. When she doesn’t see me there, panic strikes her voice as she loudly says my name, “Mary!” I say “I’m here!” in Swahili. She turns her head around and literally sighs out loud and then smiles. I ask her if she’s okay and she says she needs the toilet. We get out of our cribs and head to the toilet. The big, main ward, the one we’re not in, smells of urine and vomit. Most of the room is quiet, except for some little crying from children and snoring from mothers or grandmothers. There are a few people awake; just sitting there but somewhere in the back beds, I hear a woman singing to her child.

I bring Linda back to bed, do the routine of tucking her in tightly, cover her with kisses and say goodnight. She falls asleep almost instantly. What an angel!

It’s 2:19am now and I just suddenly got woken by a loud and long scream. I’m looking around the room to confirm that it’s none of us in our ward. I hear women start to sing and pray. The scream turns into sobbing. I wonder if a child has just lost his/her life. As I too say a prayer, tears fall down my face and I drift off to very light sleep.

Wow, I’m not sleeping much. I look at my cell phone; it reads 3:23am. I hear Linda rustling around under her blanket and making a moaning noise. I think she’s having a nightmare. Linda bolts up in bed and calls, “Mary, Mary!” in a panic. She is looking in the opposite direction that I’m sleeping in. I jump out of the crib and say in Swahili, “Linda, I’m here! It’s okay.” I rub her head, give her a kiss and she lies back down. I sit beside her for a moment, rubbing her head until she falls back to sleep. I then crawl back in to my crib.

It’s now 5:15am. I might as well get up, as I’m up at 5:00am every weekday morning anyway. I crawl out of crib and notice that some of the mothers are starting to stir in their beds too. The noise in the hallways is increasing as people all around our section are starting to wake up also. I pull out the chair and sit next to Linda’s bed.

It’s 7:00am and our social worker, Anne, arrives to relieve me from Linda’s bedside, although I realize that I don’t really want to go. I want to stay with her…we’ve had fun. Its a few minutes later and Linda wakes up. She’s definitely not a morning person. She’s very quiet and non-expressive. It’s quite funny to watch her this way.

Anne goes and gets some water and gives her a quick sponge bath in the bed and rubs her face, arms and legs with smearing oil (aka: Vaseline – it keeps their skin soft and smooth).

After a few minutes, I say good-bye to Linda. I need to go home and get some sleep. She asks if I will come back and visit her. “Of course I will come back. I love you Linda.” She smiles at me, a big beautiful smile. I’ll take that as an “I love you too.” : )

****************

On Thursday, November 20th, Linda was released from the hospital. She returned to HBF and so far, so good. She is doing AMAZINGLY well, her appetite is back and she’s laughing along with the other kids.

A Day Full of Questions....

2008-11-17T18:25:00.000+03:00

There are moments when I question all I have been taught, all that I have believed in. There are times when I don’t have a single clue as to why things happen the way they do and when they do. There are days when I just want to throw in the towel and say, “what the hell am I doing here?”

On Saturday, Daniel took our visitor Theresa, along with our social worker Anne, on an assessment. It was in the same area as our children’s home, Hope Bright Future (HBF), where the rest of us were, playing with our children, as per every Saturday.

Daniel and the crew arrived back at HBF but they brought with them two little girls: Stella, twelve years old and her extremely sick younger sister, Linda, seven years old. Daniel was carrying Linda in his arms; she looked so ill. I immediately went over to Stella and introduced myself to her, wrapped my arms around her and had her sat beside me. We talked for a few minutes before she went off to play with the other children at the home.

Daniel told me their story.

The grandmother had abandoned the girls a few weeks back. Some people in the community had made a child neglect complaint against the grandmother to the area chief (similar to a town councilor). The area chief summoned the grandmother and when she arrived, her response to the area chief, “I don’t care. Let them die.”

Let them die? My heart sank. Who could do that? Who could leave a twelve year old alone with her very sickly younger sister? I was angry; I was sad; I was broken.

We looked at Linda’s frail body; malnutrition was definitely there. There were sores on her body; her eyelashes curled up, showing signs of severe dehydration. She was in and out of the awareness of her surroundings. Daniel immediately gave her fluids to try to get some hydration back in to her.

I sat with her for awhile; I asked her if she was tired and she nodded her head yes, so I took her to the girl’s room to lie down. All of us “white people” went in to the girl’s room, sat around her on the bed and began to pray for her. What we prayed, I don’t really recall at this moment…but I know that we all felt emotion. We all felt an overwhelming sadness in what we saw lying there on the bed.

Fast forward to today….

Anne, our social worker is meeting Zipporah (the manager of HBF) and Linda at the hospital today. Linda is getting checked out and a possible HIV test….

A bunch of us went for lunch today. When Lauren S and I arrived at the restaurant, I saw friends of ours: Jeff and Carla. They run a baby’s home for abandoned or orphaned babies. When I saw Carla, she was carrying a little boy named Teddy. His mother abused and then abandoned him quite a few months back. The children’s department got Teddy and handed him over to Jeff and Carla’s ministry. The mother was in prison for the abuse and abandonment but somehow, some judge who must’ve been smoking crack that day, allowed the mother custody of Teddy again. She started raising him….IN PRISON. Shortly thereafter, Teddy got sick and so he was taken to the district hospital. It was then that the mother, receiving a hospital bill that she of course could not afford, said that the baby could return to the children’s department and back to Jeff and Carla.

I immediately swooped Teddy in to my arms and held on to me. We made kissy lips at each other; I did blow farts on his face; he nuzzled in to my neck. We were really a good match for each other. :-) Then Carla said, “Come, meet the newbies.” So we went around the corner and there at one of the tables were two little kids. One I knew for sure was a girl, the other, I wasn’t too sure about (later finding out it was a boy with the possible name of Jackson). Jeff and Carla had picked up these two kids today. The girl, not knowing her name, was a cute chubby little thing, the brother, Jackson, was not at all healthy looking. He looked to be about eight months old but based on the teeth in his mouth; he was probably closer to the age of two, similar to his sister’s age.

As the story was told, the father of the children had chased away the mother and then shortly after, abandoned his two children. The girl was strong enough to walk around and leave the house on her own so the neighbours would care for her, give her food and tea….but never knowing that there was a little boy in the house.

He is your typical World Vision looking kid, the extremely scrawny arms, rib cage protruding from his skin and a bulged out belly. I handed Teddy to Lauren S for a moment and picked up Jackson. He immediately cuddled in to my neck and got as close to my skin as he could. The denial and wanting affection was so evident in this little boy. I looked at his sad little face and again was overcome with emotions of anger, sadness and brokenness.

We ended up holding Teddy and Jackson all through our lunch. I thought it was because I wanted to give Carla a break but in actuality, I just wanted a baby to hold, a baby that I could smother complete affection on and cover in kisses.

After our lunch and busy afternoon of shopping and putting the groceries away, I started doing some accounting work. I got a call from Anne…

They’ve admitted Linda in to the hospital. She has severe malaria, severe pneumonia and yes, tested positive for HIV. All the questions started flooding my mind. The question why came up again and again in my head. I lost it. I sat on the chair and burst in to tears. Sean immediately came over and let me cry on his shoulder.

A mother abuses and abandons her child twice. A father abandons his children; one on the brink of starvation. A grandmother says she doesn’t care if her grandchildren die. Who are these people? How could they do this?

I am at a loss of words and at the moment at a loss of hope. When does it end? When does a child stop suffering? I don’t know what else to say right now…my heart is too broken, my words don’t make sense and my mind is all over the place.

Sharing My Story...

2008-11-06T22:04:00.002+03:00

I want to share this story with you because I want to share the children’s questions, the children’s views on things here. But to share this story with you means I need to share a little bit more of myself with some of you who don’t know. So here it goes…

Four of our interns, Andrew, Nate, Andrea and Lauren S, go to a primary school that is located on the outskirts of a slum, just 5 minutes from our compound. They go to the school twice a week, after school is done and talk with six, seven and eighth graders. They’ve touched on topics such as Christianity, puberty, and sex.

This past Tuesday, the topic for the day’s discussion was rape. I was asked to come and speak to the students, to share my story, my struggles and my forgiveness from my rape that happened over 15 years ago.

When I started to tell them that I had been raped, some kids laughed. I asked why they thought something of a serious nature would be funny to them. They didn’t answer so I gave some thoughts as to why they thought it was humorous. The reason: they never thought bad things happened to white people.

I told them that 1 out of every 4 women in North America are raped. Therefore, out of the three of us white women at the front of the class; I was that one that had been raped. It shocked them.

I spoke at times, directly to the boys. “When a girl says no, you MUST listen to her. You MUST respect her no and not push her further or force yourself upon her.” I could see snickers on some of their faces. In a culture where in many places are still old school traditions, the men are still superior to women, the men still have control of women, the men can take whatever they want from women…some of these boys still lived in that warped existence.

I asked the boys who had sisters to raise their hand. Almost all the boys raised their hands. I then asked the boys who had mothers to raise their hand; again almost all the boys raised their hands. Then I said, “Picture your sister coming home, crying, bleeding, beaten, with torn clothes and she tells you that she has been raped. Picture it.” The boys grow quiet. “When your sister tells you this, are you happy? Are you happy to hear that she has been raped?” All the boys say no. I said, “Are you angry? Very angry at what just happened to your sister?” They all shout, “Yes!!” I said, “Are you so angry that they did this to your sister, that you want to go and beat them?” “YES!!!” They shout.

Then I say it. “Now remember boys, the next time you want to force yourself upon a girl, remember that she is somebody’s sister.” You could hear a pin drop in the room.

After sharing my story, I opened it up for questioning for the whole group: boys and girls. At first, similar questions were asked: “Were you angry with him?”, “How long did it take you to forgive him?” “Were you afraid that you could be pregnant?” and so on.

One of the first questions from a boy was, “Can boys also be raped?” And the look on his face was so serious, so sad. “Absolutely!” I said, “And it’s no less scary or wrong for a man to be raped as it is for woman.”

Another boy asked me the name of the person who had raped me. I wouldn’t tell them. I knew that this question was going to be asked and I had prepared an answer for when it was asked. I wouldn’t give the name out because I wanted to respect any boy in that room that could have the same name. I knew that if I had told them, they would all immediately point and laugh at the boy in the class who had the same name (if there was even a boy with the same name) and I didn’t want to cause embarrassment to someone that had nothing to do with my story. The students agreed that they would’ve done that and I’m sure all the boys were thankful for me not releasing the name, dreading that it may be their name.

After awhile, we separated the boys and girls. The boys left with Andrew and Nate to discuss more in-depth questions that may be awkward for them to ask in front of the girls. Andrea, Lauren and I stayed to talk with the girls and some of the most difficult questions were asked to me. With almost every question asked, I had to take a silent moment and ask God for wisdom. Without Him, I don’t think I would’ve been able to answer some of them.

Here is a list of some of the questions:

After you wrote him the letter forgiving him, did he contact you? Are you two friends now?
What if you’re raped and he gives you HIV/AIDS from the rape? How can you forgive him for ruining the rest of your life?
What do you do if you’re raped and you get pregnant and you have the child and the child looks like the man who raped you and you hate that child because it reminds you of the rape?
How can you know if a baby has been raped?
How can you tell if a girl has been raped?
What do you do to get rid of the sadness that’s inside of you if you have been raped?
What should you do if you are raped?
Are women in North America raped by their fathers or other men that they know?

There were so many questions; all of them valid; all of them asked with extreme seriousness. I looked around the room and saw in to some of their girl’s eyes. I could see the sadness; I could see the pain; I could see the rape victims. And it broke me.

I went through a time in my life, after the rape, where I was angry with God. I blamed Him, asked Him, “Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you stop it?” Back in 2001, God gave me the reason. He showed me the verse 2 Corinthians 1:3-4: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

I believe that God can take every bad situation that happens and turn it in to something good. And talking to those kids, especially the girls, on Tuesday about my story, sharing my pain, my thoughts, my healing and my suggestions to them, helped some of them. Even if it only helped one girl, then it was all worth it. When a girl or woman that I know has been raped, I am thankful that I am reminded of the pain that I went through because I know how to comfort and pray for those girls and women.

A few years back, I decided to work with God rather than fight Him and take the something bad and make it something good. It’s amazing how wonderful it really feels.

Crazy Week - Part 3

2008-10-24T18:19:00.007+03:00

Our final trip with the Foster Group was in Nairobi. The Foster Group left our home on October 3rd and the TI team traveled to Nairobi on October 5th and spent a few days there. We spent October 6th, our last day with the Foster Group in one of the many Nairobi slums, called Soweto.

Soweto Slums

Soweto is a name that is derived from the place in South Africa. It means “trouble”. Soweto in South Africa is a dangerous, dirty place (from what I’ve been told and read about). So does the curse of the word, the name, follow….who knows?

I’ve blogged about Soweto to you before. It’s a slum in Nairobi that is very much forgotten. It can’t even compare to the commercialism that has followed the largest slum in Africa, which is Kibera (Key-bear-a) and therefore little to no assistance reaches these people.

There is a school in Soweto that TI has a relationship with. We are good friends of the people who run the school, we sponsor a few children at the school and the Foster Group for the past months has provided the food to the students of this school. On most days, it’s the only food these children receive.

The group was shocked by the huge dump site on the outskirt of the slums, where there were dozens of people, children included, rummaging through the garbage for food to eat, and for plastic bottles to take back to recycling companies for money back, even if it was for only a few pennies. As we crossed the river, I could see the curled noses at the sight and stench of the dark grey river filled with garbage and human waste.

We did a tour of the slum, to which became too difficult for some of the group members. The dirty, hungry looking, sick children running around us, wanting to greet us and hold our hands, was overwhelming. Just being there for a half an hour was emotionally draining on some people.

We went to the school that we assist and were greeted with screams of excitement by the children. On mine and Daniel’s last trip there in May with Daniel’s parents, the children sang and danced for us. I had joined them in the dancing and (un)fortunately they remembered that and therefore some of the girls wanted me to stand alongside them again and be a part of the dancing. :-) Thankfully, I was saved from the teachers and they agreed that I didn’t practice the routines so I would be a little lost. “Next time, Mary! You dance with us next time.” That’s what they said. Yep, next time I will!

The students presented some songs and skits for us all. Their faces were painted and they even wore costumes for their performances. The teams got a tour of the school and were introduced to each teacher.

From there, the Foster Group presented to the teachers, books and supplies for the school. There was excitement in their faces; seeing that they have more supplies now to work with, to help better teach their students. It is so evident that these teachers love their job and love their students despite the hardships that they all encounter there on a daily basis.

After a few hours at the school, we headed back to the city, said our goodbyes to the Foster Group and parted ways with them. For me, it was an emotional goodbye. I have made some great friends in Sandy and Cathy and I really miss them.

Walking through Soweto

Doing skits for us

Beautiful kids of Soweto

Holding a doll, tightly...

TI in Nairobi

The TI crew stayed another day in Nairobi. We celebrated my birthday the evening we arrived (October 5th). Thank you to EVERYONE who sent me birthday wishes; I SOOOOOOOO appreciated and loved it. For my birthday, I got from the TI crew, a kick-butt 3-CD changer stereo. It’s pretty amazing.

On October 7th, the TI crew went to Nairobi City Park for some fun with the monkeys. We heard about this park from a few friends of ours and decided to check it out. Oh my, it was so much fun. Get some nuts, fruit and bananas and your guaranteed to have monkeys crawling all over you. And we did. It was so much stinkin’ fun!!!

We chased away the aggressive monkeys that weren’t letting the little ones eat or have fun. We got them to climb up on our shoulders, our heads and wherever else they knew they could get to the food. Some monkeys were a little more timid than others. It was a moment of, “Oh my gosh, I’m in Africa. I have monkeys on my shoulder, on my head.” It helped us release a bit of what we had just been a part of for the past two weeks; it allowed us to have some fun and enjoy the sillier things here…even if it was just for a little while.

Sean and his newfound friend.

Nate and his friend, ED

Me with George

"Give me food!"

Lauren's found love!

"Give me nuts!"

They were seriously fighting over Andrew.

Andrea & Andrew just hanging out with their friends.

Crazy Week - Part 2

2008-10-23T06:24:00.000+03:00

As mentioned in my Part 1 blog, we did two food distributions to needy communities in our area. We had one more community a few days after that. This community hit people in more ways than the previous two; it left many of us emotional.

Kolongolo Village

Kolongolo (Colon-go-low) is a community that is deep in the bush. It is a village over an hour away from Kitale, most of it on rough dirt roads. It’s about 2kms from the border of West Pokot (Po-cot), which is considered a fairy violent tribe among other Kenyans. The Pokot people believe that all livestock, especially cattle, belongs to them, therefore other people living in the area of the Pokot, do not own cattle. If they did, the cattle would have been stolen and if people tried to protect their livestock, they would’ve been killed. There are very few people in this community who have livestock and if they did, they have permission by the Pokot to keep their own livestock. How they get the permission and from who, I don’t know.

Kolongolo is a very poor community. HIV/AIDs has swept this area and the high percentage of this place is widows raising their children on their own and grandmothers left to care for the grandchildren. We connected with this community because a Kenyan family that we are close to has their home out there. The mother/wife in this family has been connected to this community for years, has been assisting from their own farm and resources to help these women and children survive.

On September 30th, the Foster Group and TI delivered maize, beans, blankets and school uniforms to 15 families. The welcome was overwhelming. Here were women and children without anything, but together, they presented us with a large bag of corn on the cob and a dozen eggs as a thank you for coming and assisting them. They were giving us food, a gift of thanks. That in itself was completely overwhelming.

We had some of the children present songs to us, then some of the widows and grandmothers. During the time at Kolongolo, we found a few children who were really sick.

There was one boy, Isaiah, who the previous week had hurt himself on a bike. The wound in his ankle area had not been properly taken care of. Lauren R removed the dirty bandage to find it was infected and smelled horribly. The bone was showing; I had never seen a cut that deep, flesh so infected and exposed before. With the little resources that we had available, anti-bacterial wipes, a tank top and a Swiss army knife, she cleaned up the wound, tied it up and we arranged to have the boy taken to the hospital for further examination.

There was a young mother there whose husband had died of AIDs; she did not know if she or her child had contracted the illness from him. We recommended that they be taken to the hospital as well to find out. We gave these families transport money and arranged when we would meet them at the hospital.

We left Kolongolo that day even more so physically, emotionally and spiritually exhausted than we did at Maili Saba and Shimo. The Foster Group was deeply touched by this village and prayers have been answered in Kolongolo. We look forward to see what comes about over the next year here.

The Hospital

On October 2nd, Anne (our social worker), Lauren R and I went to Kitale’s district hospital, to meet with the families from Kolongolo that needed medical assistance.

The first was a little girl named Rachel. She hadn’t been feeling well for quite awhile. After testing, it was confirmed that she had Tuberculosis. The doctor and Anne thoroughly explained to Rachel’s grandmother, the importance and necessity of the medication for Rachel. The curing of Tuberculosis is a lengthy process and missing of treatment can lead to starting the treatment all over again.

The second was a sweet little boy named Kevin. He has had this sore in his belly button for awhile that we’ve been treating. From what it looks like and after a bit of research, it’s a common illness where the intestine pushes out the belly button. The doctor looked at it, gave him two injections (arm and bum) of something that I’m not sure of but knew that Kevin didn’t like as he cried for quite awhile, rubbing his arm and bum. He also got medication and will go back for a follow-up in the next little while.

The third case was that of Isaiah’s, the boy with the hole on his ankle. We got to go in to the ‘minor surgery’ room and Lauren and I were quite excited about it, thinking we just might get to see a bit of surgery done. We were sadly mistaken, although I’m sure Isaiah was thankful that there was no surgery. When the doctor removed the bandage that Lauren had done back in Kolongolo, he asked Isaiah’s mother when it had happened, she told him about a week before. The doctor glared at the mother and demanded to know why she didn’t bring him in sooner, to which Anne defended Isaiah’s mother saying she lived deep in the village where there is no medical care or finances. The doctor ignored Anne and attacked the mother again, to which the mother, put her head down in shame and said in Swahili, “I have no money to bring him here.” The doctor shut up.

The cost of transportation to and from the hospital for Isaiah’s mother is about $6. To us, that amount of money is nothing but here in Kenya, to a widow who has no means of income and has mouths to feed, $6 is unimaginable. And then there is the medication and the hospital fees to pay on top of that. Six dollars now turns in to $10 or $15 dollars, more than she could financially handle. So she cleans the wound with soap and dirty water, wraps it with an old dirty rag from somewhere around their home and prays for the best. That’s all she can do.

The doctor took the bandage off, rubbed it with alcohol, to which made Isaiah wince and cry and then covered a bandage in iodine, placed it on the wound, wrapped it up and told them to come back on Saturday and Monday. That was it! We were shocked at that; we could’ve done those ourselves. And so we made sure Isaiah’s mother had money for transport and medical care for those days that she was to return.

The fourth case was the wife whose husband had died of AIDS and her little girl Nancy. We all walked in to the pediatrician’s ward (if that’s what you could call it). We walked in to this large room and it was quite a sight to see. There were over 100 mothers PLUS their children in this semi-large open room. Some of the mothers looked as young as 13-14 years old, holding their children. I stared at them thinking, “These are children themselves, now raising children.”

The room was packed; it had benches lining the walls of the room and a few more in the middle. The only empty spots on the benches remaining were the ones we sat on when we arrived. There were two tables in the room; one in the middle, considered the “reception desk” that had doctors and nurses just hanging out at. They weren’t doing too much from what I could see, except for having a conversation among each other. The other table was to the right, in the corner. There were two doctors and a weigh scale for babies; they were busy working away as baby after baby was laid on the scale, the doctors writing something down, saying something to the mother and then moving on to the next baby.

A nurse came over to us and asked if we could be helped. Anne spoke to the nurse regarding this mother’s situation and the nurse took us to another area of the hospital. Lauren and I could see the nervousness on this mother’s face, knowing the rest of her life and what it may look like was going to be determined today. We went to the area of the hospital for HIV/AIDS counseling, medication, etc. The mother was told that she would be tested and if it was positive, she would immediately be counseled and assisted for the free medication provided by the government (and other countries) to help prolong her life and assist her immune system.

We were not able to stay with her during this time so we all went and had lunch with the other three families that we had assisted at the hospital and then sent them on their way back to Kolongolo.

Lauren and I went back to town to do some other things while we waited for the details of the mother and her little daughter Nancy’s status. We ended up meeting back up with Daniel, Anne, the mother and Nancy in town.

The mother and Nancy were tested positive for HIV. I hugged the mother for as long as I could and as tightly as I could. I kissed Nancy’s face over and over again until I saw that beautiful smile of hers appear. And before my tears could flow, I said goodbye to them and walked over to our taxi, told Lauren the news, both of us put our sunglasses on and started to cry. Two more lives devastated by a disease that I can’t begin to comprehend and despise more than I can ever explain.

And that’s all I can say for now…

Crazy Week - Part 1

2008-10-22T17:12:00.009+03:00

Quick note: I’m sorry that this email/blog is almost a month late. One, it was extremely busy few weeks with the team here and two, our internet has been down for over two weeks, which makes it difficult to post pictures. Hopefully, you’ll forgive and enjoy the next few updates…

Crazy Week – Part 1

It’s been a crazy and emotional few weeks for all of us here at the TI compound. We’ve all experienced different types of emotions but for the most part, it’s been emotional. In order not to bore everyone or have a blog that is about 10 pages long (because trust me, with all that’s happened, it very well could be), I’ll break down the past week in to separate blogs.

Maili Saba & Shimo

On Thursday, September 25th, the TI team (staff and interns) as well as the Foster Group (Sandy, Don, Cathy, Carol and Julie), spent the day at the compound packing food for the big distribution that we were going to be having the following day. There were enough bags of maize (corn) and beans to feed 177 families as well as 500 blankets to distribute to each family.

It was a long day and an exhausting one for us as all as we (well lets be honest, it was mostly the guys) carried up to 190lbs bags of maize to package.

Distributing the food for the big day.

On Friday, September 26th, was the big distribution day. We were ready to go and had the three pick up trucks loaded by 9:30am. We drove to our first destination called Maili Saba (my-lee sa-baa). As we approached the road, there lining the path were tons of children with their old grandmothers and children with their widowed mothers. When they saw the trucks and the taxis arrive, they began to sing and dance. It was beautiful and emotional.

The Families

Trucks full of food

We unloaded the trucks and got organized. This food distribution stop was the largest one out of all of them. There were 108 widows and grandmothers that we assisted. We set up the food along one side, calling over 20 families at a time. They would receive their blankets first, some getting more blankets than others depending on the size of the family.

Families lined up for food and blankets.

The line-up of women and children was overwhelming. We did the same community last year when the Foster Group was here but this year was different. There were more children which meant more poverty hitting more families, more children. It was way too difficult.

As each family received their food and blankets, they were then prayed for by our interns. They were welcoming and so incredibly thankful of the prayers.

I had two beautiful little girls, Chebet (my Nandi tribe name) and Nancy, cling to me for most of the time there at Maili Saba. All of us made some new, cute little friends that day.

Chebet & Nancy

Nancy, Me & Chebet

Carrying her blanket home...

After we returned from Maili Saba, we grabbed lunch in town and then headed back to our compound to fill up the pick up truck with maize, beans and blankets for our next food distribution location, Shimo La Tewa (She-mo La Tay-wa). We had done this location last year as well with the Foster Group. It is a slum area, about 5 minutes from our home. It is filled with drunkards, young children, rape victims, widows, grandmothers and prostitutes. It’s an area that is forgotten because it’s in a corner of the town and not as large as the other slum in Kitale.

There is a school that borders the slum and our community, called Shimo La Tewa Primary. This is where we do our distribution. We have a relationship with the Headmaster (principal) there and the school counselor (it’s the school counselor that assists on finding the families for the distribution as she is familiar with the needy in this community). The school counselor, in fact, informed us that this year, four girls in grades seven and eight dropped out of school because they were pregnant. Grade Seven and Eight?!?!?!? Sadness, complete sadness.

When we arrived at the school, there were the women, sitting in wooden school desks in the yard of the school, as students still in class looked out the window, watching the commotion begin. The women started to dance and sing for us. And like at Maila Saba, there were more children and here, the children were dirty, wearing torn clothes that probably hadn’t been washed in weeks. But that didn’t stop us from hugging, chasing, kissing and loving on these children.

Kenyan Child Beauty

He got his lollypop stolen...

In Shimo, we assisted over 50 families with maize, beans, blankets and prayers. At the end of the day, we were all physically, emotional and spiritually exhausted. Some of us came home and cried, cried over the poverty we had just seen, cried over the children that were so dirty, cried over the lack of love or affection these children receive at their homes. We just didn’t understand why people have to live this way. We did a lot of processing, knowing that we still had one more distribution to do in the next few days.

Food for Shimo

Praying for the people of Shimo

That’s for Part 2…

THE TI CREW...

Back row: Sean, Andrea, Andrew, Daniel

Front row: Lauren R, Nate, Lauren S, Ina, Meredith

Police Escort & Sunrises

2008-09-28T08:14:00.000+03:00

I traveled on the night bus to Nairobi on Monday night. It’s an eight hour bus ride that’s usually a ride from…you know what. Thankfully, I didn’t get much sleep the night before and the roads have gotten much better en route to Nairobi, that I was able to sleep most of the way (which is so unlike me).

There is one section of the trip that requires a police escort for the buses at night. Apparently, there are thugs/thieves that wait on the side of the road for those poor buses to chug up the hill, where they then make a roadblock, force the people out of the bus or fight their way on to the bus and rob everyone of their valuables (i.e. money, cell phones).

So we waited at the police check before the dangerous section. We were the first bus to be pulled over and the police told our drive that we wouldn’t get a police escort until there were 15 buses to convoy. So we were told that we would have to wait….and the driver said it would take up to about 2 hours to collect that amount of buses. The passengers on our bus (and a few that ended up coming up behind us) started getting angry and shouting. Now this was after only 10 minutes of waiting. People were suggesting the strong men on the bus should go and confront the police…demand that they take those buses that were waiting NOW, even if there were only a few. There were a few people who even recommended sending the mzungu (white person – and that would be ME) out to talk to the police. They thought since I was a white girl, I may have better luck at swaying the police officers. Thanks for sending me out to the lions!!

After much arguing and shouting from passengers of the buses waiting, we got the police escort. There were about 12 buses in the convoy. And as we approached the area of the thugs/thieves, I realized the police escort wouldn’t have done much good for our bus anyway. All these different bus companies went zooming by us as we approached “the hill” and yes, we were the last bus, chugging up the hill, the rest of the convoy far ahead.

As we approached the top of the hill, there were about half a dozen boys that came out of the darkness onto the side of the road. I heard a lady say, “oh no…” softly. The man across the isle from me clutched the arm rest, all of us staring out the window. Excitement, seriously, came over me….I like adventures….ones where no one gets hurt obviously….but there’s something about the risk. Sick, I know!

And as we approached these boys, the only sound you could hear was the sound of the engine of the bus, fighting to get up the hill. The once angry, shouting passengers were quiet. Then we drove by the boys…and they threw a couple things at the bus. Yep, that was it. We heard a couple of ping-ping sounds off the side of the bus but we kept on going. There was relief from everyone as we kept chugging along the road. After that, it was lights out for me. I fell asleep for most of the trip…not a care in the world.

I was to pick up our intern, Andrea at the airport for 6:30 on Tuesday morning. I got to the airport and saw that her airplane was going to be arriving a half an hour earlier. I was happy about that; it meant I could get home faster. But after 8:00am, the plane landing and the entire luggage being collected and still no Andrea, I got a little worried. I called Daniel and he called Andrea’s home. Andrea wasn’t getting in to Nairobi until the next morning. She had given us the wrong date of her arrival in to Kenya. So I went and got a hotel room back in the city and spent the day sitting in a park or in my hotel room, reading a good book that I bought at a book store by the hotel.

In the evening, I wanted to take a shower because at the hotel, in the evenings and in the early mornings, the water is hot, whereas during the day, it’s cold. I went to take a shower but there was no water….nothing! So I went down to the front desk and they said that there was a problem with the water and that it wouldn’t be fixed or ready until about 3:00 in the morning. I had been on a bus all night, all over the place during the day and desperately wanted to be clean. So one of the staff members said that he would have water heated for me and brought to my room in a basin.

About 40 minutes later, he knocked on my door and I opened it just a bit. There he was with a bucket full of warm water. I put my hand through the door to grab the bucket and then he said, “Its okay, I can bring it in for you.” Then I replied, “No it’s okay, I can take it from you. I can carry it just fine.” He tried to insist on carrying it for me; I then said firmly, “I don’t want you in my room. Just give me the bucket.” Maybe he realized at that moment, I wasn’t giving in or that I was thinking the wrong thing and all he wanted to do was be a gentleman and carry the bucket in. Either way, there was no way I was letting a man in to my room, especially being by myself.

It was hard to sleep that night. Being in a hotel room, hearing people walk by your room at all hours of the night, having some European guy outside your hotel room talking on his cell phone, etc. made for a bit of a crabby Meredith when I woke up for 4:45am.

I got in a taxi outside the hotel (the same taxi driver I used when I was in Nairobi picking up my cousin Sarah and also Sean – we both remembered each other. “You’re back again!” he said when he saw me) and headed for the airport…this time knowing Andrea was going to be there.

As we drove out of the centre of Nairobi and towards the outskirts of this massive city, I spent some time talking to God.

And then I noticed it…the sky. It was absolutely gorgeous. It was the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen (and I’ve seen so many in Kenya). The sky was covered in red, orange, yellow, purple and blue, the sun’s rising rays, shining between the colors. It was as if I was looking at a rainbow. It was so beautiful, it gave me goose bumps and tears welled up in my eyes. I was completely in awe of it and then I heard, “This is for you, Meredith.”

I forgot the rest of the drive to the airport; I just stared at the sunrise for as long as I could, mesmerized by its beauty, thankful that I got to experience it’s beauty. I wondered how many other people were staring at this same sunrise and appreciating what they were seeing. I wish I had had my camera to take a picture of it, but a picture wouldn’t have even captured an eighth of the beauty. Maybe it was just a moment of beauty to be shared between God and me.

Intern Fun....

2008-09-19T10:28:00.001+03:00

The interns have been here for almost two weeks now. Our interns are: Nate, Andrew, Ina (ee-na) and Lauren S. They are a pretty cool bunch. It’s great to go from moments of serious, in-depth talks to moments of uncontrollable laughter. We’ve become a very tight, united family; I really appreciate it.

On Tuesday, we went to Graceway Academy. It’s a free pre-school for children who live in the slums of Tuwaini (two-wa-nee). It’s funded by our friends Africa Connect, from the US. In Kenya, Early Childhood Development (ECD) classes, such as nursery, junior kindergarten and senior kindergarten are not covered by the government. Therefore, this makes grade one a huge challenge for them, most of them not even attending school without the ECD classes under their belt. This school gives the children the foundation and opportunity to carry on to grade one and through primary school.

In the morning, I was thinking of what we could do at Graceway. After girl’s cell time, I suggest we make crafts with the children, remembering that we had a big bin filled with stuff. So Lauren R and I went through the bins and found stickers, glitter glue, crayons, pencils, sticker boards, etc. So we got together a bunch of stuff and took it to Graceway with us.

The children were outside on the school property playing when we arrived and when they saw us, they started SCREAMING. They were so excited; they came running out of the gate and bombarded us all. We each had about 20 plus children around us each; fighting to hold our hands, give us hugs or just to touch our arms.

Lauren and I got the crafts all ready as everyone played with the children. After getting the children settled back in their classrooms, I took the team to each of the rooms and introduced the team to them. Then we split up in to groups and helped the children with the crafts. We made little bookmarks for them, full of stickers and glitter glue. By the end of the hour and half, there was just as much glitter on the children’s faces as there was on their stickers. Success!!!! :-)

When we were getting ready to leave, one of the little girls came over to me, grabbed my hand and in Swahili said, “Mary, are you coming tomorrow?” I said, “No, I’m sorry. We can’t come tomorrow.” She looked sad and then said, “When?” I told her, “We’ll come again soon!” She got all excited, hugged my waist and said, “Thank you for coming today.”

We, the team, all left there having so much fun. Helping these children make crafts, doing little games with them in the playground, spending time on the ground with them, hugging them…such small things that a made a huge difference in the children that day. We got just as much out of it as they did….we all benefited from it.

On Wednesday, we introduced the team to our girls, our EX-street girls. We played volleyball with them for awhile, which was quite fun and funny. :-) Later, I had Lillian sitting beside me reading from her English book to me. I looked up at her in amazement. She was trying, really trying.

Lillian had been one of the original girls in our home when it opened. She ran away when the others did. About a month ago, she found Anne, our social worker and pleaded to come back. We prayed about and talked about it and decided that we would give her another try. She’s been there for almost a month now and the transformation in her is incredible. With a different group of girls in the home now, rather then her close friends from the street that she was originally with, she’s a totally different person. She’s quite, humble, respectful and determined. We set strict guidelines on her due to this being her second chance in the home and she’s abided by each one. The first week she was there, she apologized to Daniel, Anne and I for running away. She said that she was so sorry and that she won’t be doing it again. She wanted to stay in the home and get her life straightened out.

And as I watched her on Wednesday, playing volleyball, helping me read a Swahili text book and my helping her read an English text book, I asked God, I begged God to please have her stay, to please make it work this time. This project is my heart; these girls have my heart. It’s the motherly love and protection I feel.

Anyway, that's all for now.

Widows & Grandmothers...

2008-09-16T21:47:00.000+03:00

In a few weeks, the TI team will be teaming up with the Foster Group to do massive distribution of food to four areas: Maili Saba (my-lee), Kiminini, Shimo La Tewa (tay-wa) and Kolongolo. So on Tuesday, we began doing our assessments on widows and grandmothers in Maili Saba.

When we arrived at the central point where all these widows and grandmothers were to meet, we were welcomed with singing and shouting by the women. I was attacked immediately by little old women who continually hugged me, shook my hand and said Asante sana (thank you very much) in my ear. I must have hugged at least 40 women.

There were streams and streams of little children, staring at the white people. Some would turn away at the very moment of eye contact, while others would stare and when I smiled at them, came running to greet me by shaking my hand.

It took us about 4 hours to go through the assessments and pictures of over 80 widows and grandmothers. As we listened to some of the stories, I was saddened by the condition some of them looked to be in. There was one little boy who sat down with his grandmother and sibling with big tears rolling down his cheeks. I was told he had a headache.

I called him over to sit next to me on my bench. He was a little hesitant at first but after me saying, it’s okay to come here in Swahili a few times, he came and sat next to me. I felt his forehead and he was on fire. Thankfully, I had some headache/fever medication in my purse. We got water and I handed him a pill and gave him water to drink. Then I just wrapped my arms around him and hugged him. When it came time for him to leave and get the family photo taken, he didn’t want to leave. He preferred to stay seated beside me, my arms wrapped around him, him snuggled up against me.

I thoroughly enjoyed the day, meeting all of these amazing women, grandmothers who are raising their grandchildren, fighting to keep the family going, to find food to put on the table. It’s a life that most of us can never imagine having to live. And we found just a small few in a small community that day. There are so many more out there.

We visited Shimo La Tewa on Wednesday and did the same thing, doing assessments on over 40 widows and grandmothers. There was this one sweet little girl; she may have had a cute little dress on but you couldn’t tell because over the dress, she wore a Finding Nemo housecoat. I thought she was the cutest thing and she thought she was the coolest thing with her little housecoat on; it tied tightly around her waist.

I could seriously go on and on about all the little children I met over those two days of assessments but I’ll refrain….for now.

I have so much to write….but I’ll leave it…again, for now.

Ezekiel & Me...

2008-09-07T09:02:00.002+03:00

I was at HBF (our children’s home) on Saturday. I spent most of my day with a 3.5 month old in my arms. His name is Ezekiel. He is the son of the director to the home.

I was the first visitor to hold Ezekiel when he was born (after hospital staff and his mother). He was just a few hours old. His skin was so light that they jokingly called him mzungu (for white person/European here). It was a joke that he could totally pass for my son…half white/half Kenyan. I was definitely willing at that moment to take him home with me.

Three and a half months later and he’s changed to a beautiful shade of brown with these beautiful big brown eyes. He can no longer be mistaken for an mzungu. His mother says that Ezekiel and I have a special bond. She says he knows me well. She calls me his second mother. When he’s fussy, I take him and unless he’s hungry, I can calm him down. I sing to him, I pat his bottom, I rock him, I cuddle to him, I kiss him. On Saturday, I had him smiling and talking up a storm (well more like baby gurgling sounds but I’ll take what I can get). I engaged in eye contact and baby gurgling conversation with him. Every time he smiled that toothless, gum-filled smile, it made me smile more.

The children were laughing at my interaction with Ezekiel, seeing an adult pretend to understand the language of a 3.5 month old. But the more I showed my interest in what he was moving on about or gurgling about, the more he would smile, kick his feet and gurgle.

It’s an amazing thing to see; to see the smile of a baby, of a child.

It’s moments like this when I ache to be a mom; to be able to hold a child of my own. I can’t wait for morning sickness (yes seriously!), baby kicks, back pains, discomfort, hours of labor…all for the life of a child. To me, the nine months is worth it all. To see my husband, hold his baby for the first time…to see him have gurgling conversations with our baby. On Saturday as I held Ezekiel, I ached for all of that even more.

I remember having a conversation with a family member, before I knew Kenya was were I was going to be. We were talking about wanting children some day and she said to me, “Meredith, I know you will have children some day. They may or may not be yours in flesh but you will forever be surrounded by children and you will be called Mom.” Four years later, I was in Kenya, surrounded by children and many called me, and still call me, Mom.

Children mean so much to me. I wouldn’t be here if they didn’t. To see the transformation of a malnourished, sad being to a healthy, happy child is amazing and so wonderful to be a part of. It’s amazing to see what God does in these children.

There are over 2 million orphans in Kenya alone. I wish my arms were long enough to hug them all, but since they aren’t, I’ll hug as many of them, individually, whenever I can. I may not be a “mom” yet, but I have the love in me…why not give it out to the children who need it.

Sponsorship & Widows...

2008-08-25T09:23:00.000+03:00

It’s been a little awhile since I wrote up a blog/email. It’s been quite the crazy few weeks.

It’s August, which means update month for all of our children in our sponsorship program. Every three months, we go to all of our projects and take updated photos and information on our children. I then compile them into little update pages and send them to the sponsors in North America. Last Saturday, alone, I did this for 45 children.

It’s a lot of work but I thoroughly enjoy it. I get to watch the expressions on the children’s faces as they answer the questions or tell their stories. I love it when we tell the kids to smile for the camera and some are either too shy to smile or some just burst out laughing with sheer excitement.

Last week, Anne, Hoglah and I went out to a village that the whole TI team went out to a month ago, where we did assessments of over 20 families: grandmothers with orphan grandchildren or widows with children. The last time we went to the village, we met these families at a central location; this time around, Anne, Hoglah and I went to their individual homes. That day we walked over 15 kilometers and visited many homes.

The first home we went to, we had to walk down a deep, beautiful ravine and back up again. We arrived at the home of Sophia and her children. Her husband had died a few years ago, leaving them with about 3 acres of land but no money. We walked into their smoke-filled home of mud walls and grass roof. There was a small jeico (gee-koo – a small coal like BBQ) in the corner cooking some rice in the corner. The smoke from the coals was filling up the home; my eyes were stinging. I looked around the house to find a half a bag of something (either rice or corn), the jeico and a bench under the roof. That’s it. That’s all that they had in their home. I asked Anne why this was all they had. Anne asked Sophia and she said that her husband was the only son in the family and when he died, his family came and took everything. He, being the only boy, would be the one to care for his parents in their old age but since he was gone now, they “felt” they had the right to his things. Those things would take care of them, perhaps?

And since Sophia was simply an in-law, she had no right to them, even if she was the mother to their son’s children. Thankfully, the one thing she had was the land. But because of no money, planting in the farm was pointless so she rented it out to a nearby community member. It gave her some money, for a little while, to provide food for her children. Food being far more important to her, than a couch or bed for her and the children to sleep on.

Sophia is beautiful. When we arrived, she welcomed us with the biggest smile. I remembered her smile from when we first met her a few weeks before that. She had such a young and beautiful face and she hugged, big, heartfelt hugs. My heart ached for her….for all the homes that we visited that day. They, for the most part were all very similar…in their conditions and situations.

It’s overwhelming; it’s heartbreaking. This is just a small village outside our town, in the deep interior. We didn’t reach every home, every widow, and every heart breaking story in this village alone. There are still so many people in our area we haven’t visited, children we haven’t heard about. And with the decrease of food happening, the increase of prices….this will bring along the increase of extreme poverty. It’s frustrating.

We can only imagine the more difficult times here to come in the next year.

I was in Nairobi last week to pick up Sean. Yes, Sean is finally here! For those of you who haven’t heard, he did make it safely. I’m sure you NACers will hear from him soon. The poor guy hit the ground running here. We spent all of Thursday on a bus back to Kitale. On Friday, he had to endure the wonderful, crammed matatu rides, a corrupt police check (or 4!) and walking up a steep hill…to get to one of our projects. But I think it was worth it when he got to hug on a few beautiful Kenyan children. And just wait until he tells you about our children’s home and his bonding with some of the kids on the Saturday. Yeah, he’ll do great here. J

As this next week begins and more craziness, I’ll keep you posted…as always.

Oh yeah, we have kids on our website that need to be sponsored. Go to www.transformedinternational.org to check them out.

Part 3 - Kenyan Wedding

2008-08-12T10:53:00.013+03:00

A friend of ours got married on Saturday, here in Kitale.

The wedding was to start at 10:00 am. Weddings here usually start in the morning and go until about 5:00 pm (the reception). It’s much different from our usual North American weddings – starting in the afternoon and going until midnight or so. :-)

We arrived at the venue at 10:20 am, knowing very well that it was not going to start on time. The tent was still not up; more than half of the guests hadn’t arrived yet and the groom hadn’t even left to go and pick up the bride.

The bridal party tent...

The groom goes with his wedding party to pick-up the bride from her home where she waits with her wedding party and parents. The groom remains in the car while the best man goes in to the house to get the bride. The best man lifts the veil of the bride and confirms in front of everyone that yes, this is in fact the woman that the groom is to marry. Then they are all off to the wedding…the jest of that part anyway.

So the groom in this case, left the venue at about 11:00 to go and pick up his bride…which was about 45 minutes away. The choir from their church was there to entertain us for awhile with music. Daniel, Tim, Josh and I played with and talked to some of the street kids who had come to see the ceremony as well as little children who were with their parents. I held a beautiful little baby named Jessica and had her giggling and smiling up at me (yes, I wanted to take her home with me).

This is Jessica...staring up at me...isn't she gorgeous?!?!?

Finally, at almost 1:00 pm (3 hours past the supposed start time), we could hear the cheering from children and the sound of the cars. The bride, groom, wedding party and parents of the couple, had arrived.

The groom walked in with his groomsmen and ring bearers, slowly, toward the special tent and chairs for them. Next were the bride and her entourage, including her parents. She too, walked slowly toward the special tent and chairs.

The groom's entrance (he's in all black)

The bride and her entourage...

The bride and groom sit in chairs across from each other, about 6 feet apart. Then a guest/pastor gets up and reads a bit from the Bible, gives his advice to the bride and groom and then the choir sings.

Because the wedding was almost three hours late and it’s rainy season, we could see from the distance the rain clouds coming in. So what would’ve been a far longer ceremony was being cut shorter and shorter to prevent the dumping of rain on everyone.

The bride and groom were then called up to the front. The groom lifts the veil in front of everyone…to again confirm that this is the woman that he is to marry. They again stood about 6 feet apart from each other, never holding hands and even when repeating their vows, never looking at one another. The only time there was physical touch was after the rings were placed on each other’s fingers, the pastor held up the ring hands and joined them together. The “you may now kiss the bride” that we are so accustomed to in North America was now, “you may now reveal your wife” and the groom lifted her veil. No kiss!

The bride and groom...

The joining of hands...

Everyone stood up and cheered for them at that moment…hooting and hollering!!!

And the rain came….

We all ran for shelter in the school that was there. Daniel, Tim, Josh and I ended up in the area where all the kids also ran for shelter. It turned in to a great time, sitting with a bunch of little kids in the rain. We ended up missing the opening of gifts. Yes, after the ceremony, they then open up all the gifts in front of everyone. Then the reception started; some food was served and I don’t know if there was dancing. We ended up leaving as the rains wouldn’t stop and we were all hungry (we didn’t get any food – too busy playing with the kids!).

My beautiful Evans...I adore him.

Hanging out....

Hanging out again. Yes Kate, that's Collins in the red. He says HI!!!!

Faith & Me...a gorgeous smile - her, not me!

Moses & me - before the wedding started.

Tim & Me...killing time before the wedding.

It was interesting; the wedding as a whole; and very different. I know there is love between the bride and groom but it lacked emotion, lacked excitement. Yes, I guess this is coming from an emotional woman, a woman who fully intends on taking advantage of the whole “you may now kiss the bride” thing. I fully intend on standing close to my groom, holding his hand through the whole ceremony and pretty much looking at him and only him the whole time. So be prepared!!! :-)

I love seeing different things; different cultures; different reactions to situations. I know not all Kenyan weddings are like the one above; it depends on the couple getting married. But I liked seeing a different side of a wedding…definitely different from any other wedding I’ve been to before, especially in North America. It’s another story for me to share with you…to give you a little taste of Kenya and the beautiful people in this beautiful country.

Part 2 - Emotional Friday

2008-08-11T20:26:00.007+03:00

We have a grandmother, one of the sweetest women EVER, taking care of her five grandchildren, their parents having died of AIDS.

I’ve talked about this family before; they lived in a 10x12 mud house with tin roof. Their home consisted of one room that served as a bedroom, sitting room and kitchen. There was a little 1x1 window that allowed minimal light in throughout the day.

On Friday; however, the TI team moved the grandmother and her five grandchildren to a new home. A home that has two rooms: a bedroom and a sitting room and an outside small hut to serve as the kitchen.

The old house....

We arrived at their old home, to see that they had everything packed and were ready to go. We hired a small pick-up truck to load their belongings in. Yes, all of their belongings…ALL of them….fit in the back of a small pick-up truck. We loaded the truck up, the community children gathered around to say good-bye to the family and off we went.

All of their belongings - fitting in the back of a small pick-up truck...

The community children coming out to say goodbye to the family....

My little Kevin...he pulls at my heartstrings...we have a special bond.

We arrived at the new home; the children were in awe of the little property they had, the trees that surrounded their home and the welcoming greetings they were receiving from the neighbours. The children could not wipe the smiles off their faces.

Their new home....

Anne and I met with the grandmother and grandchildren for a few minutes. When we were done talking, she ran over to Anne, wrapped her arms around her, kissed her cheek and shouted, “Thank you so much!” in Swahili. After she was done hugging Anne, she ran over to me and said the same thing, tears in her eyes. I hugged that woman back with all my might, told her that I loved her and we thanked God together for being able to make this happen for her and her grandchildren.

It was wonderful to see this family so excited about moving to a new home, a whole new community and starting fresh. It’s a little step for them…in the right direction. And it’s great to be a part of it.

After getting the grandmother and grandchildren all settled, we headed over to another family that we are supporting to do their monthly food delivery. This family is a disabled Aunt caring for her three nephews. She doesn’t have children of her own and is not married; she said she gladly gives all that up to care for her three boys. They are her family.

When we arrived at the home, it began to downpour rain. Not just a little rain, hardcore downpour…that turned in to hail balls. I was thankful for this opportunity; for I got to see the way they really live.

Their home is made completely out of tin sheets with wood framing. There is no window in the house, only the front door. They have two rooms: a bedroom and a sitting room. The sitting room also acts as the boy’s bedroom. They have no couch, just a few chairs and a table. The floor is the boy’s bed.

When you walk in to their home, you need to step down in to it. This normally wouldn’t be a problem, except when it rains. The front of their complex (like a rows of homes built together) floods and the water comes rushing under their front door, in to the sitting room…also known as the boys’ beds. The joints where the iron sheets meet, rain comes down in to the sitting room and the bedroom. Because the rain was so hard, it wasn’t just a drip-drip into the sitting room, it was as if a water faucet had been left on. We all had to move around the sitting room, trying to find a place in the small room where there WASN’T water leaking through.

This was reality to me…and that night, the children were going to sleep on a wet floor with no bed, no mattress and no blanket.

Anne, our social worker, looked at me. I had to hold back the tears. She said, “Meredith, do you think we could take some of the money (from the sponsorship) and have a bunk bed made for them today? We’ll buy mattress and a few blankets too. That way by tomorrow or so, the boys will be able to sleep on a bed.”

Of course! For the boys to have to continue to sleep on a wet, cold floor was saddening to me. That’s what part of the sponsorship is for….to care for these children’s needs. No wonder the boys have been sick so much in the past. No child should have to live like that.

It again, was reality of Africa, reality of a third world country, slapping me in the face. There is so much work to be done, so many children, widows and grandmothers to help.

Yes, it can be overwhelming, knowing that there aren’t a few hundred or even a few thousand out there that need help. No, it’s in the millions. If you look at it that way, yeah, you might want to give up, think it’s too much to do, to accomplish…but we don’t think that. We look at it in the way of helping one child, one family at a time and trusting in God to lead the way. Seeing a child’s smile come across their lips because now there is some security….security in knowing that he/she will have food every day, security that they won’t have to go to bed on an empty stomach for the second, third or fourth day in a row…that’s what it’s all about. Caring for the orphans and the widows…loving them they way they deserve to be loved, so desperately wanting to be loved. That’s what I love…loving them.

We may say, “What a small world”…but in fact, it’s a big world with BIG problems. We can’t turn a blind eye to it. Let’s open our eyes to more than just what’s going on in our own backyards.

Part 1 - National Music Festival

2008-08-10T00:07:00.014+03:00

This past week has been fairly eventful. And to save time on a super long email/blog, I’ll put it in to 3 parts.

Part 1 – National Music Festival

My sweet friend Lydia (from Oasis of Hope) invited me to join her, Geoffrey (also Oasis of Hope) and their taxi friend, Dan to Kisumu on Wednesday to watch the National Music Festival. It’s not really a festival; it’s more so a competition of different categories of music and dance among the primary schools and high schools around the country. There were about 12 children from the Oasis of Hope group homes that were competing in the festival with their school and so we wanted to go and cheer them on.

Lydia & Me....

We arrived in Kisumu (2.5 to 3 hour trip) in mid-morning to book in to our hotel, relax and grab some lunch before seeing the first group of children perform. We arrived at the high school where the festival was being held and took our seats. Our group of kids performed second in their category and they did very well. One of the other schools that was performing in the same category was a school for blind children. They came out holding hands together and getting help on lining up…and they could sing. It was beautiful; they were beautiful.

Our boys performing...

About a third of the way through that category, a lady passed a Visitor’s Book for Lydia and I to sign, so we did. After the group of children performed, the MC announced that there were some special guests today and at that she announced Lydia’s name of Oasis of Hope and my name of Transformed International. We had to wave to the crowd, completely embarrassed. Then we were invited to sit in the special guest section…the front of the hall and on couches, not the hard wooden chairs. We got served tea and treats, along with the judges.

At the end of the category, I was fiddling around with my camera when I heard my name being called over the speakers. Lydia nudged me and I looked up at the MC. She wanted me to go to the front of the hall and present the second and third place schools with their certificates and the first place school with their trophy. So I did!

Then we got up to leave as the category was done and our kids were finished. But the MC and a few others insisted that we stay for the next category. So we did and it was the dancing competition, which was so much fun to watch.

Later that night, we drove around I got to see the beautiful sunset over Lake Victoria. It was absolutely beautiful….and romantic. Unfortunately, Lydia wasn’t in a very romantic mood, she wouldn’t even hold my hand. :-)

Lake Victoria Sunset - just beautiful.

Afterwards, the four of us went for dinner in Kisumu town. We suddenly saw a sign for PIZZA. I miss pizza. So we went in and sat down. Lydia and I were excited…almost drooling over the wonderful list of pizzas. And then the waitress came over and said, “We don’t have pizza. We don’t have cheese.”

I looked at her, “Seriously? You don’t have cheese?”

“No, we don’t have cheese.”

Lydia said, “Can you go to the store and buy some?” She was HALF joking…and a part of me was thinking, please go and get the cheese! So no pizza for us!

The next morning we were up early, and off to see our kids perform again. They did well again in the category they competed in. Unfortunately, they again, didn’t come in first, second or third. There was also a beautiful group of children competing in the same category; they were mentally and physically disabled children. I was in love with all of them. In fact, there were about 40+ children that I wanted to take home with me…but they wouldn’t all fit in the little Toyota taxi we were driving in.

We had a few hours break in between performances so the four of us decided to go for drive to the Dunga (Doon-ga) Beach. We drove in and immediately were asked if we wanted to take a boat ride out to the lake to see the islands and the hippos. We declined so then they decided to show us the fish that had just been caught (Kisumu is big for the fish as it’s right on the lake). So Lydia and I ventured over and I saw the biggest catfish EVER…not that I’ve seen many….but it was huge.

Then, this is the fun part, as we were leaving the park, a man stops us at the gate and says that we owe 200 shillings (about $3 CDN – which I know doesn’t sound like very much but 200 shillings is a lot here). It’s then that we see a sign (on the INSIDE of the entrance gate – not the OUTSIDE – BEFORE you enter the beach) that has the fees on visiting the beach. The fee for a bus full of children is 100 shillings, a 14-passenger van is a fee of 50 shillings and then it says, “International Foreigner” is a fee 200 shillings. We all argued with him but after about 10 minutes of annoyance, Geoffrey paid the 200 shillings…all because of the color of our skin. Two hundred shillings to look at a few dead or dying fish. Yeah, not happy about that!

Then we found another place to go to…free….to go and just look out at the water. We ended up being joined by a bus full of children so Lydia and I got photo happy and took pictures of all the kids. There was one little guy who kind of tugged at a heartstring of mine. He asked if he and I could take a picture together; so we did.

School bus of kids....covering my face. :-)

Daniel & Me - he pulled at my heartstrings. Beautiful smile.

Then another school arrived and I immediately got excited. It was the school for the mentally and physically disabled. I greeted all the children, confirmed with them that they were in fact that school and told them how wonderful they did in the competition. They were completely surprised…that I remembered who they were and was congratulating them on their efforts. They were absolutely beautiful.

The school for the mentally & physically disabled.

Then it was lunch time and then we rushed back to the school and watched our girls perform. I spent a lot of time, playing with this little boy in front of me. I gave him a lollipop I had in my purse; he looked at it very strangely and showed it to his mom. She unwrapped the lollipop for him and he sucked it back. When he was finished, he was sticky…so, being always prepared, I pulled out my handy-dandy wet wipes and got his hands washed for him. The wet wipe was another amazing first time thing for him to see. After he was done, he handed the dirty, used wet wipe back to me with a big smile on his face. Thank you!

Our girls performing

My little lollipop friend.

After the performances (all the kids did a FANTASTIC job!), we headed back to Kitale. Oh, home sweet home!

I’ll be posting pictures on my blog soon…today or tomorrow….of our Kisumu trip. Check them out.

http://www.meredithlopez.blogspot.com/

Part 2 of my week…coming soon. :-)

Love you all,
Meredith

Friendships...

2008-07-27T21:33:00.000+03:00

At the age of 31, I note that I have gone to five primary schools, two secondary schools and one college. I have lived in 3 major cities and two countries (Canada and Kenya).

With all of that moving around from school to school, from city to city and now from one country to another country, I have a lot of friends…and a lot of memories.

My primary school years are mostly filled with memories of my friend Kelly. We met in a small little town when I was four years old. We went to school together, played dolls together, and listened to endless hours of Air Supply tapes together. I then moved away, but the friendship remained. Even to this day, we can go months without seeing each other or even talking but when we do, we pick up right where we left off. We can laugh and cry together and reminisce about so many memories.

My secondary school years mostly consist of my best friend at that time, Kim. Especially in our last few years of high school (as the first two years I was at a different school and didn’t know her), we were always together. We were best friends and we even dated two guys who were best friends. We went through heart breaks and laughter together. There was the year that Italy was playing Brazil for the World Cup and Brazil won. So Kim and I drove down Erie Street (aka Little Italy) and started cheering, “Go Brazil! Woohoo Brazil!” Italians were coming out of the cafés, throwing things (cups, bottles, anything!) at Kim’s car as we drove down the main road. What we were thinking by doing that, I really don’t know…even to this day. We laughed uncontrollably as we drove away in her little blue car, that when it reached 80 km/h, the steering wheel would shake like crazy (and you had to roll up the windows in order to get the car to go 80 km/h and over – the wind blowing in the car was torture on the poor engine). My parents adored her; I adored her. We then moved in together for our first year of university and unfortunately, that was a rough year for us. It changed our friendship forever.

My college years were with my friend Shirley. Second year, we moved in together. It was so much fun; she was so much fun. She was a country girl; I was a city girl. For the first time in my life, on the way to visit her hometown, I saw a cow run. Who’d a thought I would be so excited about seeing a cow run?!?!? That’s the city girl for you. I feared getting flat tires when I drove as I was always driving on the highway from the city I lived in to the city my family lived in. Then out in the country, I was driving along with Shirley and her sister Debbie and I started to hear this noise. They immediately said, “Hey Mere, you have a flat tire.” I was freaking out and then realized that they were laughing hysterically. I was only driving over the grooves in the road for the truck drivers to let them know there is a stop sign ahead (for you country folk, you know what I’m talking about). Shirley and I lost our friendship due to something silly on my part….but thanks to the world wide web, we got in contact again and all was forgiven.

After college, I started working full-time. This is where I met Deb & Lisa. Deb and I worked at the same place and we really got to know each other when I would use the phone by her front desk to call this guy during my breaks or lunch hours. Then over time, we became friends and she introduced me to Lisa. The three of us did a lot of things together; they especially helped me through a crappy, low period in my life. Deb had gotten married and moved away with her husband and yet, we always kept in contact…going camping a couple times a year, spending New Year’s Eves and birthdays together. Deb was always good that way. Lisa and I still lived in the same city and we would go for drives on the weekend. We’d turn up the music really loud, roll down the windows and just drive. Deb & Lisa were there for me when I realized I needed a change of life and I quit my job, packed up my things and moved to the big, big city. They are true gems.

After moving to the big, big city, I became good friends with Catherine (who was like mom to me) and Rhonda, my sweet best friend. Catherine helped me find my way back to the path that I needed to be on and Rhonda, her and I shared the love and passion of checking out Africa together. We spent almost 4 months together in 2005, living in a mud and grass hut outside of Eldoret. We too, went through laughter and heartaches together. We can talk about ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. She is the one person in this whole world that I can be as silly and as serious as I want to be with…and she’d join right along with me. Rhonda and I shared common struggles and frustrations and as she embarks on the next phase in her life…she’s getting married on August 2nd….I am saddened that I can’t be there for her on her very special day, like I know she’ll be there for mine. But I am so incredibly thankful that she has found the most amazing man just for her, a man that treats her the way she so deserves. I am so excited for her as she embarks on this new and exciting phase in less than a week – called marriage!

Overall, I’m not perfect; I’ve done stupid things to cause friends to be mad at me; to lose friendships and needing to do what I could to restore them. I’ve also been one to get my heart broken over friends who’ve chosen their boyfriends at that time over our friendship; friends who’ve gotten married and had children and maybe slowly realized that me being single and them being married and having baby talk times; we just weren’t on the same page and so we started to drift apart. I’ve had a male friend that turned in to something more; him moving away to go to school. But it still left things changed, hearts sadden and tears shed.

I look at friendships and think they shouldn’t be too difficult. Yes, there are disagreements; yes, there are hurt feelings but its all part of the growing. Friendships aren’t meant to be one-sided, where one makes so much effort and the other sits back and waits to be called.

Friendships shouldn’t be put in clubs. My favorite is the unspoken “Married (and possibly with children) Club”. The unspoken thoughts of: “Well you’re single and I’m married (with or without children); therefore we don’t have anything in common. I’m going to hang out with married couples (who also may/may not have children) from now on.” What was the basis of the friendship before? Was it superficial?

I love friendships; I love building relationships. My heart aches at the losses of them, whether the loss is my fault or not. Every one of my close friends from primary school to Daniel here in Africa, impacted my life in some way or another. The memories with these people will last a lifetime. No matter what “stage” I’m at in my life, I choose to continue to love my friends, to value them, to respect them and be there for them.

We need friends - women we need to have girlfriend time; and men need to have their male bonding time -whether we’re single or married (and yes, single woman and married woman can be friends with each other!). It doesn’t matter. Don’t we need to value our friends more? Don’t we need to know that our friends will be there when we need them? Don’t we want to be the type of friend that others can count on?

I messed up on some friendships in the past; but these past few weeks, as I’ve sat back and thought of certain friendships, I’ve realized that I miss a few of them. With some of them, I only have the memories, whether it be in a song, a rainfall or a picture. There are people who mean/meant so much to me, who taught me so much and whom I’ll cherish in my heart forever. And to those of you, I thank you. Thank you for the memories.

Mud Houses & Mud Fights....

2008-07-25T22:52:00.006+03:00

In our sponsorship program, we have six beautiful grandchildren: Lucia, Maureen, Abel, Joseph, Benjamin and Benard. They are being raised by their equally beautiful grandmother, Sophia.

Their plot consists of one little round mud and grass hut that is the kitchen and another little round mud and grass hut where the seven of them sleep. The grass thatched roof has holes in it that allow the rain, especially during this heavy rainy season to come in to their home and dampen everything.

Through the sponsorship program, that so many of you are a part of, we have been able to begin construction on a big mud house with iron sheets as a roof (this will keep out the rain!). The wood frame of the home has been built already and the iron sheet roof, in tact. The house has 3 rooms: one sitting room (aka living/family room) and two bedrooms, one for the boys and one for the girls.

Yesterday, the TI team: Tim (intern), Daniel, Holly (volunteer from the US), Anne (our social worker), Hoglah (Kenyan university student doing her attachment/internship/co-op with TI) and myself, got dirty and built the mud structure.

When we arrived at Sophia’s house, there was excitement. I think for the fact that white people were going to be doing the work. To many Kenyans, they don’t see white people “working” very much. There’s a perception of perhaps, laziness or that we have tons of machines to do the work for us (which in reality, in mostly true). So to see us walking up to their plot, ready to work…well, they were just excited.

In the corner of the plot were four Kenyan men, digging up the ground and dumping water on it, to make the mud. After a few minutes, Anne and I looked at each other and said, “Let’s get to work!” So her and I ran for the mud pile and jumped in. It was about mid-calf deep and of course squishy. Holly, Hoglah & Tim followed us in. As the four men, dug up the earth and added water, we walked around mixing the mud and water with our feet. The purpose was to get it in to a smooth mixture. There was the odd painful crunch of a rock when you were stomping but other than that, Holly and I were quite thankful for the cheap exfoliation that was being done on our feet and legs.

(The house before we started working on it)

(Stomping the mud)

(Good times...Tim, Hoglah, Holly, Me & Anne)

After the mixing was complete, Daniel and Ben (our Kenyan friend), got inside the mud house and we made big mud balls and passed it to them through the wooden frame. They then put them in piles in the middle of the rooms in the house. After we had run out of the first layer of mud, we all went inside the rooms and started making the mud walls as the four men dug, added water and stomped the mixture for more. After the mud piles were finished, we started the process all over again.

(Tim working hard)

(Holly hard at work)

(Me...hard at work...seriously!)

(Hoglah, Holly & I taking a photo op)

(Holly & I...calling a truce after all the mud fighting)

Along the way, of course….we had mud fights. Holly got me good in the face, well the eye actually. I got Tim good….in the mouth. Yes, he ate a small ball of mud…stuck to his teeth quite well. Even Hoglah and Anne joined in the fun. I was a little hesitant throwing mud at Hoglah, so neat and clean, but thought, “She’s gotta join the group.” So after a big mud ball to her back and arm and she joined in.

The children and community members that gathered around (and some even helped) to watch the wazungu (white people) build this mud house, enjoyed our silliness of mud fights. People from around came just to thank us for doing what we were doing.

(Our sweet little Benard)

(Old man from the community - thinking the wazungu were crazy!)

It was an amazing day, so much fun.

(The first phase almost done.)

And yes, our muscles ache. From the calves to the shoulder blades, we groan with every bend and reach. But it was all worth it. To see the grandmother and grandchildren happy that they will be getting a new home with no leaks of rain, rooms for the girls and the boys and a sitting room where they can eat their meals….it was definitely all worth it. I’d do it all again tomorrow.

We'll do the next phase of the house soon. Keep you posted.

(The grandmother and her grandchildren - plus a few extra people.)

Thoughts at 3:30 in the morning...

2008-07-22T04:30:00.001+03:00

It’s after 3:30 am (at the time of writing this) and I’m wide awake. I’ve been up for almost an hour, thoughts going through my head like crazy. All my body wants to do right now is sleep, but my mind is in overdrive.

I woke up with an ache in my heart. My mind started replaying stories of children I have heard recently, the suffering in their lives, the conditions they live in. It’s so overwhelming at times. When I look around and see so many children, so desperate for the basic needs to be met in their lives, it saddens me…to know these needs aren’t being met, can’t be met.

Kenya, as a whole, is not an affectionate country. Not to be stereo-typical by any means but very rarely, do you see a father hold his children in a loving manner, let alone hold his child at all. And even as the child grows, away from the breast-feeding year, the motherly bonding seems to deteriorate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mother here in Kenya pick up their child when they are hurt and console them and kiss their “boo-boo” away.

Except in Nairobi, where you see the odd hand holding of couples and it being a city of more modernized people, you would never know a married couple walking down the street together or a boyfriend and girlfriend on a lunch date (except for the dates under the random tree where they sit eight feet apart and barely look at each other).

I’ve asked people over my few years in Kenya, “Why aren’t you affectionate to one another whether it be children or partners?” And a lot of them have said that life in Africa is tough and therefore they themselves need to be tough. They want to raise their children to be tough, to be strong against the elements that the poverty-stricken African life throws at them. I can understand that, to a degree.

But whether an African child or a North American child, physical contact, physical affection is something we all crave. I see that in the African children I meet with daily. It ranges from a little baby to a teenage street kid (boy or girl). They’ve lacked that physical affection and when they get it from me (or from any of us here), they soak it in. I love kissing a baby’s cheek, a toddler’s cheek and feel them push their cheek up against me, for more. I love when a child comes and curls up on my lap and nuzzles up against me and wants me to wrap my arms around him or her. I love when the street kids come over and know that I will give them a hug and they don’t run away from it but “embrace” it.

I see the lack of physical affection in this culture. I feel it at times and it’s such a loss. A hand held, a hug, a kiss on the cheek…they can change a person’s mood in a moment. I know for me, there are moments where I’ve had a bad day, an emotional day…and its amazing how a hug, a simple hug can change that mood.

I long to see more Kenyan men hold their children in their laps and wrap their protective arms around their children. I long to see them spend time with them, reading them stories, playing football in the yard with them. I long to see the Kenyan women cover their children’s cheeks in kisses and comfort their children when they fall and hurt themselves.

No matter where we come from, as children (and even sometimes leading in to adulthood), we desire that physical affection from our parents. Sometimes actions speak louder than words and a moment of hugging someone is far better than hearing, “Its okay.” or “You’ll be okay.”

I don’t know the purpose of this blog, if it at all makes sense…as it’s now 4:30 in the morning. Maybe I’m just tired….or maybe I just really need a hug.

Faith, patience & hope...

2008-07-21T10:48:00.002+03:00

Last week, Anne and I did a home assessment on two little twin girls: Faith & Patience. Faith and Patience are two years old; they are orphans, losing their mother at childbirth and their father unknown.

Patience is a completely healthy little girl, who is able to run around and play; she can ask for what she wants or needs and can be understood by the family she lives with. Faith, on the other hand, has some medical conditions. There were some issues during the birth that we aren’t fully aware of. She then caught meningitis while in the hospital. Faith can’t walk or run; she can’t speak of what she wants or needs and she can’t look you in the eye.

But she has the most incredible and beautiful laugh.

And I fell in love with her.

I knelt down to get eye level with Faith in her walker. She tried to make eye contact but it just wouldn’t work. Instead she moved her head to the sound of my voice. I took my finger and stroked the side of her cheek. I told her in Swahili how beautiful she was, what a good girl she was. And that’s when I heard her laugh…and saw the sweetest smile.

I picked her up from her walker and held her up against me. I kissed her cheek over and over again. If I stopped kissing her cheek, she would grab my face and try to pull it down to hers. Once I began kissing her again, she would laugh, the beautiful laugh…and press her cheek further in to my lips – for maximum kisses.

I didn’t want to leave her; if my purse was big enough, I would’ve snuck her in it. If her aunt and uncle (her guardians and the only parents she has even known) had given me permission to take her, I would’ve run full speed off their compound and down the dirt road before they could’ve changed their mind.

I saw perfection in this little girl; I saw God’s beauty in her.

Yesterday, the TI team went to a village and did assessment on over 25 children who are either living with their grandmothers or their widowed mothers. These children lived in sad conditions, horrible conditions – no food, no education and no healthcare. Their basic needs were not being met.

One child had a horrible infection spewing from his belly button (we’re taking him to the hospital this week for treatment). There were other children with the malnourished bellies or ringworm infecting their heads.

It took so much in me not to cry….seeing the children and hearing their stories from their mothers or grandmothers. I stared at the children; each of them so beautiful, so innocent. Later, I looked over all them again, singing and clapping and giving thanks to God for what they did have. They had mothers and grandmothers who did love them, who did try their best to provide for these children.

And the children have hope and faith….for their prayers to be answered.

Check out our website for updates on these assessments and some of these children to be sponsored in the next few weeks: www.transformedinternational.org

With Love,
Meredith

Piece of the Puzzle...

2008-07-12T18:04:00.001+03:00

I’m sure many of you have already heard about the attacks on John & Eloise Bergen, the missionary couple living in our town of Kitale, Kenya.

This is a horrific act that was done on two wonderful people who chose to give up so much to serve in this country. And yet, I am filled with amazement that despite the fact that they went through this ordeal, they still want to stay in Kenya, continue with the work that they were brought here to do. Such amazing faith!

Yesterday evening, I was reading through the book of Habakkuk. The book is a dialogue between God and Habakkuk. Habakkuk was asking God why He was allowing the oppression of the poor, the rising of the wicked, to happen.

Habakkuk 1:2,3

“How long, O Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, “Violence!” but you do not save?...Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.”

God’s reply:

Habakkuk 1:5, 2:3

“Look at the nations and watch – and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.”

“For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.”

Habakkuk 3:2,18,19

“Lord, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, O Lord. Renew them in our day, in our time make them known; in wrath remember mercy.

“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.”

I remember back in our Young Adults group quite a few years back, our friend Glen brought a 200-piece puzzle to our group. He had each of us pull just one piece of the puzzle and look at it. Then we went around the room and described what each of our puzzles looked like and what we thought the completed picture was, based on our pieces.

After a few minutes and going around the room, Glen unveiled the picture of the puzzle. Not one of us had gotten the completed picture correct.

We are just a single piece of God’s puzzle. We can not see the whole picture; we view things based on us and the few around us. We question God and why He did or allowed this or that to happen. But we don’t know His reasons behind it. We don’t see the whole picture.

And that is where our faith comes in. That is where we say, like Habakkuk, “I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.” Even in moments and times we don’t understand. That is where we are like Job, who lost everything and say, “As long as I have life within me, the breath of God in my nostrils, my lips will not speak wickedness, and my tongue will utter no deceit…I will maintain my righteousness and never let go of it; my conscience will not reproach me as long as I live.” Job 27:3,4,6

So although we can’t understand the recent events of our friends, Eloise knew that Jesus Christ was right beside her (as said in her interview to CTV on Friday). . I am amazed by John and Eloise’s faith, perseverance and strength. That in itself speaks so much to me. There is a reason for it all and I choose to believe in Him.

Please continue to lift John & Eloise up in your prayers.

Much love,
Meredith

Stop and smell the roses...and rain!

2008-07-04T12:32:00.005+03:00

Rainy season is officially upon us. Well, it’s been here for a few months now but it was a come and go thing.

Yesterday, it poured, heavy downfalls. It rained even in to the early morning. I loved it. I love the sound of the rain on the roof; I love the smell of the rain. It’s not like the wormy spring smell that we get back in Canada; here it’s a fresh scent.

There’s a comfort in the sound of the rain; especially in the evenings. The chill that’s in the air and the security of being under the heaviness of my blankets pulled up to my chin, my head drowning in one pillow, while I wrap my arms around another one.

Every morning at 6:00 am, the birds begin to chirp. Without looking at my phone to see the time, I know that it’s 6:00 because I can hear the beautiful different sounds of the birds.

There are mornings where I hear the dogs whining and I know Timo, our little monkey, is in the yard and the dogs are desperately trying to play with him. They don’t dare take their eyes off of Timo, fearing they may lose the opportunity to get him.

The other morning, Timo was in the tree next to the guy’s house (that overhangs our walkway to the door). I went in to our pantry and grabbed a banana and went and stood under the tree. I shooed the dogs away, peeled back the banana and called Timo’s name. He came “tarzaning” over to the edge, only a foot or so above my eye level and looked at me, his head tilted. I lifted up the banana to him; he grabbed the top of the banana with his cute little hands and put the banana in his mouth. I sat in amazement that I was about a foot away from him, watching him eat and not an ounce bit afraid of those massive fangs that were chomping down on the banana.

When Timo finished that piece, he tilted his head at me again, telling me that he was ready for more. I peeled back the skin of the banana a bit more and reached up to him. He took the rest of the banana and repeated his chewing. He looked down at my hand, realizing that he had finished the banana. Then he “tarzaned” away.

I watched him jump from one branch to one tree to another tree. He traveled from the front of our compound to the back of it, never once touching the ground but flying through the air in to the branches of the trees.

We have this huge beautiful tree on our compound with the most beautiful purple flowers on it. Right now, it’s in bloom and the flowers are bright and plenty. We have the same tree above our compound gate. If you tell someone we live at the house with the purple trees, they know exactly where it is. The one in the yard is so big, it can be seen over the fences and hedges and the one in front of our gate is so bright as well, it’s the only one in our community.

There’s a species of bird that is in our yard every day. It’s a gorgeous smooth black bird with a bright yellow face and a dark red feathered head. When it flies, the underarms of the wings are the same dark red that is so vibrant across the sky when the wings are spread out. We have these sweet little, bright yellow birds that love to bathe in our bird bath.

It’s beautiful; absolutely beautiful.

Then there’s the children. There’s a beauty that can’t even be described.

We recently added a grandmother with five grandchildren in to our program. When we went and visited her and the situation was so sad. The six of them live in a falling apart one-room mud home with tin roof. There is one bed with an old, stained, thin mattress. There are two wood couches with thin cushions for seating. This bed and two couches are the beds for the six in the household. The bedroom, sitting room and kitchen are all the same room.

The two youngest boys, Kevin and Joshua were home when we visited them for the first time, the others were at school. They were extremely nervous and scared when we arrived; probably their first time experience with white people. After a few minutes, Kevin warmed up to me, sat on my lap and even allowed me to cover him in kisses, while he laughed like crazy, showing his front-toothless grin. Joshua was a little hesitant until I pulled out the handy dandy digital camera, took a picture of him and then showed him the picture of himself.

We put the five children on our website and within a week, they were all sponsored. This month (this week), was our first food delivery to their home. The grandmother was beside herself; full of thanks for that she could now feed her grandchildren, that she could now have soap to wash the grandchildren and their clothes. We are also looking in to relocating them to another home, a better, more secure home.

It reminds me of all we take for granted. The beauty of what God created around us; the sound of the rain, the smell of the rain, the sound of the birds, food in our stomachs, soap to wash our bodies and homes that don’t have gapping holes in the sides or in the roof where the rain pours in like there isn’t a roof at all.

In moments when I cry because my heart has broken from something said, seen or done; in moments, when I wonder where God is, I look at the things surrounding me, I look in the eyes of a child and I see His beauty, I see His love.

So take a moment and do as the saying says: “Stop and smell the roses.” Take time to enjoy the things around you, the people around you. Thank God for what He has created, for what He has given you. Tell the ones you love that you love them. Don’t take them for granted. Show them that you love them. Be thankful because we have been given so much and sometimes don’t realize it.

So with that said, I am thankful for you. And to my family and friends, I love you so much. Thank you for being a part of my life and my journey.

This is Kevin. I love the front toothless grin. :-)

This is Joshua, posing for the handy dandy digital camera.

This is the grandmother with her grandchildren:

(Phylis, Edwin, Joshua, Kevin and Adelide)

Street Girls Update

2008-06-29T21:53:00.000+03:00

Some of you have probably already read the update I wrote on the TI website regarding some changes in the street girl program. I wanted that update to be up on the site before I wrote one on my own blog or email.

In the evening on the Friday night before it happened, I started to get sick. Throughout the night and in to Saturday, I was very ill. I was in bed; I couldn’t move: I couldn’t tolerate any type of light or even the smallest sound. I hadn’t suffered a migraine of that magnitude in years. There were moments where the pain was so unbearable, but it hurt too much to even cry.

I missed going out to our children’s home that Saturday but by the time Sarah, Tim and Daniel got home, I was able to get out of bed, still not a fan of the light or loud sound. It was then that Daniel told me what had transpired that day.

Leah and Helena left first. Lilian and Anna battled back and forth; “do we or don’t we?” About an hour later than Leah and Helena, they did. Sarah didn’t. She knew the streets were not where she wanted to be. Rose, our 6th girl, had lost her mom. She had just been notified that her mother had passed away. She was given permission to go and be with her family during that time.

I couldn’t believe it. I was angry and frustrated. Why, why would they want to go back to the streets? As I said in an email after it happened, “Why are the streets so appealing? Why do these girls choose a life that will lead to death of either AIDS, a drunken jerk in the slums beating them or the glue destroying their brains? Or they could get pregnant; give birth to second generation babies and not be able to care for their own children?”

And then I was heartbroken, completely and utterly heartbroken. We’ve built relationships with these girls; I LOVE these girls. We fight for them; we pray for them; we love these girls. And they left. We see the potential in them; we see the women that they could become but they don’t. They choose not to.

The streets are easy, no rules, no boundaries, no routines. Is that it? Is that the attraction?

We had to let those four girls go. They made the decision and we have to stand on the things that we agreed upon with the girls. The house went from six to two…in one day.

Then just a few days later, we brought in three new girls: Metrine; 13, Jennifer; 12 and Theresa; 10. Metrine and Theresa are doing well; they are not addicted as much to the streets as Leah, Lilian, Helena and Anna were. Metrine and Theresa are not addicted glue sniffers. Jennifer is a little more used to the streets and the glue. She is struggling a bit but thankfully to the other girls in the home, they are helping her along.

The house has a different atmosphere to it now. I miss the silliness of Lilian’s hands flailing around when she talks; Anna’s off the wall comments that have nothing to do with the topic of conversation, Leah’s hold handing and Helena’s big, strong hugs.

I saw Anna the day we were bringing the new girls to the home; she was sorry for leaving, and said she would try better next time. It was another’s girls fault she left. I saw Lilian and Helena just two days ago. Helena hugged me and said, “I’m sorry, Auntie Mary.” Then she and Lilian asked if they could come home. I told them that we had new girls living there now.

I hugged them both so tight. I grabbed each of them by the side of their faces, kissed their cheeks and told them how much I loved them. They smiled at me, those big beautiful smiles and each said, “I love you too, Auntie Mary.”

I don’t give up on them, not at all. I continue to pray for them; I continue to love them; I continue to fight for them but I just trust that God has it all worked out. He is in control of all that we do here; in our lives, in our ministry, in all of it. He has it all figured out; we can’t pretend to understand what’s going on.

Lilian, Helena, Leah and Anna know that I love them…but we also have Metrine, Jennifer, Theresa, Sarah and Rose who are fighting to stay off the streets, to better their futures. It’s an uphill battle for all of these girls; a battle that I can’t comprehend and never will. But I think my place in this is to pray for them, accept them and show them that they are loved, no matter what.

So please, continue to pray for these girls…all of them.

Meredith
xoxoxo

The Day of an African Child...

2008-06-16T21:37:00.011+03:00

June 16th of every year, people around the continent of Africa and South Africa celebrate…The Day of the African Child.

In 1976, South African children were killed while in demonstrations to stand-up for their rights for basic necessities: such as shelter, education, food and safety. To honor the children who risked their own lives to bring the rights of all future children to the forefront, Africans give this day to those children.

Today, we marched. We marched through the streets of Kitale with hundreds of kids from different children’s homes along the way. We marched for a few kilometers in the beautiful morning sun, with the Salvation Army band playing in front. We marched straight in to the Kenyatta Stadium where the festivities began.

There were songs and dancing performances done by different children’s homes. Then there was a football (aka soccer for you North Americans) match; it was the managers of children’s homes/NGOs verse the children of the homes. Our very own intern, Tim participated in the manager’s team of the match (manager’s won 2-1). We’re so proud of him; he did great.

There were two special guests (guest of honor) that were picked before the event. They were to be a young man and a young woman to represent the children on this important day. Our very own Elizabeth, who’s in Form 1 (Grade 9) and lives at our children’s home, Hope Bright Future, was nominated to be the Female Guest Speaker. She was AMAZING. We were SO proud of her.

It was a great day; I got to hang around SO many children, hug on about 100 children (yeah, seriously!) and got to catch up with some children that I haven’t seen in awhile. We’re all a little burnt and extremely tired but to spend the day, appreciating and loving these children was worth it all.

I love you all!
Meredith
xoxoxo

George, Sammy and Me. Ex-street boys now in a home and going to school. It's the first time I've seen them in a few months.

Marching in the downtown area of Kitale....

So many people....it was awesome.

The Oasis of Hope scouts. They were AMAZING!!

A beautiful little girl named Grace. Her and I became friends today.

Anne (our social worker), Shayla and me.

Our sweet Elizabeth sitting in the guest of honor chair, awaiting her time to give the speech.

She did an AMAZING job!!!

Daniel, Elizabeth, Anne and me.

Street Girls - No Longer On The Streets

2008-06-11T21:47:00.000+03:00

Well, it’s official. TI has launched our first Street Girls Rehabilitation Home.

Last Tuesday, Daniel, Tim (intern), Sarah (intern), Anne (social worker) and I ran around town and got the necessary things needed for the girls to be welcomed in to their new home the next day. We moved in three sets of bunk beds, a single bed, two couches, two chairs, two coffee tables and two end tables. We also purchased the household items needed, such as basins, pots, cups, plates, etc.

We moved the new house mom, Janet in to the house on the same Tuesday as well so that she could get the house ready during the evening for the girls’ arrival on Wednesday. We were all set to go.

Last Wednesday morning, Daniel and Tim set out to the girl’s house to assemble all the beds, while Sarah, Anne and I went to complete the rest of the shopping, including food and pick up the girls to take them to their new home.

We had planned with the girls to meet them at 11:00; however, at 9:15 as we were heading to one of the supermarkets, we were approached from behind. Skinny, dark hands covered my eyes, “Lilian, wewe!” I knew immediately who it was. We turned around to see Lilian, Anna, Leah, and Sarah. The girls said they had seen me and came running, so excited about going to their new home today that they just couldn’t wait until 11:00 to meet with us. So we took them to the supermarket with us.

After much running around for food, I called our two main taxi guys to pick us up and take us to the new home. The whole way there, the girls were talking non-stop. They were staring out the window…a few of them said good-bye to the streets as we drove out of the downtown area.

We arrived to the compound; Janet opened the gate and the girls gasped. “Wow, this is home!” They all jumped out of the taxis, Janet rushed over to them, greeting each of them with a hug and said, “Welcome home!”

The girls quickly helped unpack the vehicles and rushed into their new home, running from room to room. After they did so, we all got in to a circle, held hands and prayed.

We sat down with the girls and went over house rules, expectations from them and their expectations of us. I shared some personal stuff of my own with the girls. I shared a dream that I had had a few nights before they moved in their home. The dream was a small but detailed and graphic glimpse of the life that these girls had lived while on the streets. As I shared the dream that I had with the girls and the emotions that I went through as them in my dream and how I felt when I woke up, I saw them nod their heads in agreement.

While Anne did more talking with the girls, Sarah and I ran from room to room and put up the new curtains. It was just the finishing touch that each room needed to make it feel more like home.

On Thursday, we brought the new teacher, Nancy, to meet the girls. Nancy is awesome, young and so eager to be a part of this program. She and the girls immediately warmed up to one another. We also brought new clothes for the girls (undergarments, a few skirts, a few shirts). It was like a fashion show in the bedroom. We collected the clothes that had glue on them or smelled like glue and threw them away. The girls were so thankful to get rid of them.

On Friday, Anne and I brought over the school supplies for the girls and Nancy to use. School was starting on Monday for them and they were SO eager to begin.

On Monday, we found out that Nancy had gone over to the girl’s house on Saturday to see how they were doing. They told Nancy that she was already there and they had the school supplies, could she start teaching them right then and there. So Nancy did a basic lesson with them. She was thrilled at how excited the girls were to finally be getting an education/schooling.

Anne also went over to see how things were going on Monday and ended up having a group counseling session with the girls that went very well.

Yesterday (Tuesday), Anne and I went over there and as soon as we got to the gate, the girls came running out of the house, “Auntie Mary, Auntie Mary!” They gave me their usual big hugs, pulled me in to the house and dumped all their school workbooks on the table in front of me. They wanted me to go through them and see how well they were all doing in their subjects. I asked them how school was and they just all started going off in Swahili of how great learning was and how nice Nancy was. They were just so thankful to be in a learning environment.

Today, we went to visit the girls as it was food delivery day for them. When we arrived, they were still having school lessons so we stayed outside and waited for them. When they were finished, they called us in. “Uncle Daniel, Auntie Mary, Uncle Tim, Sister Sarah….” They wanted us to go through their workbooks again; they wanted us to see how good they are doing in school. And they are….so well.

It was good to see the interaction between Nancy and her students. One of the girls, Lilian, wanted to show us how she is learning to read in English. It was so cute to see Nancy and Janet (the house mom) guide Lilian along in her reading. The girls all said that they wanted to be able to talk to us in full English. And they tried today; they asked us questions in English, broken English, but it was awesome to see them so enthusiastic in accomplishing it.

The girls were reminded that today was one week, one week since they had been off the streets. They were surprised, realizing it has gone by quickly. We were getting ready to leave and the girls wanted to walk us to the main road with Janet. Leah grabbed my hand and her and I walked ahead of the rest of the group. She said, “Auntie Mary...ugh, English...” She wanted to say what she had to say in English. “I tell you that I love you so much. And I thank you and Uncle Daniel for all.” I squeezed her hand, “I love you so much too Leah. And you are so welcome.”

So continue to pray for these girls. It’s been a week which is awesome, but it’s only been one week. There is still so much healing to be done and I know God is working on their hearts. So please, continue to pray for them.

I hope to have some pictures up in the next few days of the girls and us. I’ll keep you posted.

I love you all!
Meredith
xoxoxoxo

Roller Coaster Love

2008-05-29T22:18:00.001+03:00

Maybe I shouldn’t be writing an email/blog on a roller coaster emotional day. This is because I usually end up blabbing, making no sense and/or saying more than I should.

I love this country; I love the people in this country. I get angry with this country; I get angry with the people in this country. But I wouldn’t change a moment in this place. I wouldn’t change the love, the anger, the heartbreak, the joy, the laughter or the tears for anything.

This may come out the wrong way but there are times when I wish I didn’t love the way I do. I look at a child in pain and I come home and cry for them. I look at my street girls and hear their stories, their struggles and my heart aches for them.

I love...I love deeply, passionately and give my all. I understand why we’re told to guard our hearts. My heart has been broken so many times. And it’s not just from a past friendship, a past relationship; it’s from the love that I feel for these Kenyan people, for the children of this country. I have trusted and been deceived; I have befriended and my life been threatened; I have loved and not been loved in return…but I keep coming back for more. I keep loving, never giving up.

This is my home…until God says otherwise. These are the children that I love; that I would honestly die to defend. When the post-election violence came, I understood (although maybe not as purely passionate as a mother/child) the need to protect my children. I understood the “do whatever it takes to make sure my children are secure, are okay and away from harm.” I understood love in a different way, a different level.

So although at times I wish I didn’t love the way I do, it’s who I am and deep down, I’m thankful for that. Are the heartbreaks and the tears worth it all? Absolutely! To hug on a street child; to hold my kids at HBF every weekend, to encourage and hug a grandmother who’s trying to raise her grandchildren….it’s worth it.

My heart will mend….it always does. The tears will dry up…they always do. The love for the people of this beautiful country will never dry up. I can’t wait to see what the future holds in this place. I’m excited to see what God does here; in me, in our ministry/organization and in the people of Kenya.

I hope you all continue to be a part of this roller coaster ride with me.

Love you all,

Meredith

xoxoxo

Police Checks, Riots & Traffic Jams

2008-05-27T21:21:00.000+03:00

Sarah, our intern, as well as my younger cousin, arrived on Friday morning in Kenya. Her plane was to arrive at 6:05 am in Nairobi. I was at the airport at 6:15 am (knowing that I would still be on time as it takes a lot longer than 10 minutes to get off the plane, through customs, through the Visa counter and collect luggage.

I went over to the screen that shows the arrival times of the planes. I found Sarah’s flight, all excited…knowing I would see her shortly. I looked over to the last column on the screen and it read: DELAYED. I looked at the ETA and it read 8:00.

Well, this was certainly going to change our plans. I had booked us bus tickets from Nairobi to Kitale for 8:30 am. We were obviously going to miss the bus. So I grabbed a seat, an orange juice and people watched for the next two hours.

Sarah arrived, safe and sound with no problems. We grabbed a taxi to downtown Nairobi, picked up a shuttle bus from Nairobi to Eldoret (we take another mode of transportation from Eldoret to Kitale when we do the shuttle bus) and were on the road by 9:50 am. The excitement of the 8.5 hour ride ahead of us.

We were driving for about an hour, when we came up to a police check. The police officer motioned for us to pull over, which we did. He then came over to the window and told the driver to pull the vehicle over to the other side of the road and out in to an open field. We did. They started pulling other vehicles over and having them do the same thing. All of us lined up in a row.

Then another officer came and pulled off the insurance stickers of all the vehicles lined up and took the driver’s licenses of all the drivers. They then told us to drive down the road and stop there. So again, we did. We arrived to find a police truck with 3 men in long white coats (like doctor’s coats). We were the second vehicle to arrive there; they again had us line up side by side to each other vehicle coming in.

We soon found out that the police were doing complete vehicle inspections, like checking the brake system, making sure the lights and turning signals were working, etc. Within 15 minutes or so, there were about 40 vehicles lined up. And although we were the second vehicle there, it didn’t matter. The “inspectors” were so disorganized that what could have taken our vehicle 15 minutes of in-and-out service, took over an hour and a half.

Not only were the people in our vehicle upset, but so were the passengers of the other 40 vehicles. People began chasing the police officers around, yelling at them, demanding that they be released to go as the police were wasting their time. I too was getting frustrated. Not only because I had been up since 5:00 in the morning but because I knew that I would be cutting it close now to entering in to Kitale after curfew time (there’s still the curfew due to the tribal clashes in Mt. Elgon – which have subsided I might add!). I went to this one police officer and explained to him the situation. He asked what vehicle I was in, I told him and he said he would see what he could do. He forgot about me. Moments later, Sarah and I could hear shouting and saw people running. The angry passengers had started a mob around two police officers, the ones who seemed to be heading up the whole operation. The people began shouting at the policemen, raising their fists at them. The police never really flinched.

The people decided to block the street so no one could drive through. There were about 100 of them, blocking the street, shouting. Within 10 minutes or so, there was an army truck in the area breaking up the riot.

I then found another officer, one of the head guys and I explained to him the same story that I had mentioned to the other officer. I told him that Kitale area is strict on the curfew and that if we are late in the city, we could be arrested. He turned to me and laughed, “You’re an mzungu (white person); they won’t arrest you.” I said, “I’ll have you know officer that they have arrested a white person for missing curfew, a catholic priest at that. So, understand sir, that they aren’t playing games in that area and neither am I.” He laughed again at me and turned away.

About five minutes later, that same officer walked by me, and I said aloud, for him to hear, his badge number. He immediately looked at me, stunned and rushed away. Not even two minutes later, he came back to me, “Which is your vehicle, madam?” I pointed to it. “I’ll see what we can do.” In less than 10 minutes, at approximately 12:40 pm, we were getting back in our vehicle, en route to Eldoret.

We reached Eldoret at about 5:45pm. I asked Sarah to stay close to me because the Eldoret stage (where all the public service vehicles come in and out of) is a busy and sometimes dangerous one, if you don’t know where you’re going. As we turned the corner, to find our vehicle to Kitale, a man asked me if I was going to Nairobi. I said that we were coming from Nairobi and we were going to Kitale. At that, he started to grab the bag that was in my hand (Sarah’s luggage). We began playing tug-of-war over it and I kept telling him in Swahili to leave it alone or I was going to beat him but he wouldn’t listen. So with my other hand, that had another bag in it, I swung at him and clocked him good in the side. He finally realized that I was serious and let go of the bag. I turned around to check on Sarah and found him doing the same thing to her. So again I yelled in Swahili at him but he wouldn’t budge, so I went at him full force with death on my face. Thankfully, he saw at that point that I was serious (again!) and let go of her bag.

After 20 plus minutes of waiting for a vehicle to Kitale, it finally arrived. I got Sarah in to the vehicle, secured my seat (as it was only a seven passenger) and made sure that our luggage got on it too. Then started the fight with the driver of the vehicle; he wanted me to pay more because of our luggage…quite a bit more. But I refused. I gave him a bit extra because we did have a lot of luggage but I wasn’t going to allow him to rip me off. So we bantered back and forth and I stood my ground, much to the excitement of the other passengers in the vehicle. The woman sitting behind me said that I was right and that I shouldn’t give in. The gentleman at the back said, “I like your style of doing things, African woman.” We all had a good laugh. The driver gave in to me and we were off to Kitale…or so we thought.

We made it about 10 kilometers outside Eldoret and then we came to a complete STOP. We learned that there was a big graduation ceremony at the Barracks (new soldiers in to the Army). It’s once a year (I think!) and it’s at this one place for the whole country so you have thousands of people trying to leave the place at the same time….on one lane highways. But when you mix thousands of Kenyans from all over the country, trying to leave one place at the same time and impatience, you get a massive dead-stop traffic jam. People took a one-lane highway and made it three lanes…all in the SAME direction. So us innocent folk, who just wanted to get to Kitale and surrounding area, were stuck. For two and a half hours.

Thankfully, we had a van full of fun people. We made jokes; we talked about politics (that is always fun and interesting!). When they found out that this was Sarah’s first time in Kenya and that she literally got off the plane that morning, one woman said, “Please don’t think that this is the way Kenya is all the time. Please don’t go back and tell your people about this.” She was sad that Sarah’s first day could be the worst day for her.

But thankfully Sarah was a trooper, totally awesome and rather than getting frustrated, she enjoyed every minute of it.

When we finally reached Kitale, it was 10:50 p.m. It was 11 hours since we had left Nairobi…this was supposed to be an 8.5 hour trip. Thankfully, there were taxis at the place where our van dropped us off at and we were able to get home. When we arrived at our house, we found Daniel and Tim waiting outside for us to help with the luggage. When we got in the house, we found dinner waiting on the table. Sarah and I were starved; it had been since 2:30 pm, since we had eaten.

We were exhausted. I really don’t remember my head hitting the pillow. I think I was asleep in mid-air. It was such a great time and adventure. I’d do it all over again.

Love you all,

Meredith

xoxoxo

Show How Good the Shepherd Is...

2008-05-19T22:01:00.011+03:00

Last week, Danel, Larry, Tim (our intern), Daniel and I, spent a few days in Nairobi, along with our social worker, Anne and our good friend Robert. Our purpose in going to Nairobi was to begin the Widows’ Project in the Soweto Slums (near the International Airport) with seven widows.

We also visited a school in the Soweto Slums that a group through Transformed International is assisting in feeding the 150 children at lunchtime, some times the only meal a child will eat that day.

My job and desire during the time at the Soweto school….to play with the children. And yes, I did just that.

When we arrived, I peaked in to each class, the teachers and students welcoming me in. I found out what grade it was and introduced myself. The grade five class asked if I would sit in and learn a lesson with them. It was Math class, my LEAST favorite subject and it was grade five math…something I haven’t had to think about in a million years (or so it seems). But I did…and thoroughly enjoyed it. The math teacher, Moses, was fun with the children, using examples that they would understand and even had us busting out in laughter when he imitated stories or situations that always went back to the math problem on the chalkboard.

Then recess time came. My most fun EVER. I went out and started just talking to some of the children, when suddenly I heard a little cry behind me. I turned around and found this sweet little boy (who I later learned, his name is Basil) on the ground, sobbing. I immediately ran over to him, bent down and got him to his feet. I dusted off the dirt from the back of him, and hugged him, saying in Swahili that he was okay. His sobbing quickly left and he wrapped his arms around my neck. I picked Basil (ba-zill) up and then his legs immediately wrapped around my waist. I then began to cover his face in kisses much to the enjoyment of him and all the other children around. I then put him down, kissed his forehead and said all was okay.

Well, this then started a mob of children around me. And what did they want? They wanted me to kiss each of their foreheads. They wanted, needed, craved that physical affection. How could I deny that; why would I want to deny that? I then spent the next 20 minutes kissing each and every child’s head or cheek, most wanting more than one kiss. With each kiss, I told them that they were loved. I kissed dirty children, ringworm infested children, sweaty children...all of them. Each kiss was followed by a gush of laughter from the children; each kiss was followed by ten more screaming in Swahili “And me? And me?” These are the days that I enjoy the most; loving the children. Showing them that they are loved, because I know that God loves them, like He loves me.

I was listening to a sermon on Sunday (downloaded on my laptop from a church in the US) and one of the things that the teacher said was, “We don’t do things so that others can be saved; we do things because we are saved.” And then he said, “Let’s not just talk about how good the Shepherd is, let’s go and SHOW how good the Shepherd is.”

We are so good at TALKING, but when it comes to acting, we allow our laziness to kick in. Why is that? We can go to church on Sunday and talk for two hours about things that need to change in our church, our community, our town and even in our lives. But it just becomes talk. We leave church, saying, “Wow, that was a great message.” We may shake our heads in agreement of what is being said, we may even cry at what we’re hearing (that was usually me!) but then Sunday is over and the message is forgotten. The tears have dried up and it’s Monday morning life again.

I make sure that I tell at least one child every day that I love them, that Jesus loves them. That child can be at our friend’s place, Oasis of Hope or our children’s home, Hope Bright Future, or a street child walking the streets of Kitale. I wake up every morning knowing that my Father loves me; I want to pass that on to a child who may not know love.

Christianity isn’t about sitting in a building on Sunday mornings, singing a few songs, hearing a great sermon and going to Swiss Chalet afterwards (for us Canadians). It’s the relationship we have with God; it’s bringing glory to His name; it’s doing what He’s called us to do; it’s taking care of the orphans, widows, brokenhearted, distressed, etc. It’s not about us. It’s never been about us. It’s not just talking about doing it….IT IS DOING IT. It’s doing it for our Father.

Actions speak louder than words, doesn’t it?

Meeting with the widows....

Soweto River - covered in garbage and dumping station for feces...

Playing this crazy Monkey in the middle game, where they throw balls at you.

Taking a break from having a ball whipped at me. :-)

Recess fun!!!

Grade One's taking their lunch

My sweet Basil....

Through the good times and the bad....

2008-05-06T15:30:00.013+03:00

Last Sunday, Daniel, his parents: Larry and Danel and myself went to Kisii (Key-see), which is a few hours from the Tanzanian border to stay and visit with some friends for a few days. We had such a fantastic time. It was nice to be in a home that was simple: deep in the village, no electricity and no running water. To be woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of the pouring rain hitting the tin roof and then woken in the morning by beautiful sounding birds. So peaceful.

Kisii is absolutely BEAUTIFUL, the land, the rolling hills, all of it is so stunning.

We spent one full day walking around deep parts of the farm land. Our friend Robert took us to the place where they dig up the soapstone, clean it off and mold it the so many of the items that we have bought from him in the past (plates, sculptures, etc). It was awesome to see where the soapstone comes from and how it was done. We probably walked about 6 or so kilometers that day. The weather was beautiful; the widows we met were beautiful and the children we hugged were even more beautiful.

(this is a soapstone quarry)

(soapstone after being dug from the earth)

(chess boards being sawed...it takes about an hour for them to saw through that peice of soapstone)

Toronto Maple Leafs - representin' in Kenya!!!! :-)

Our mode of transportation to Kisii was a matatu (a 14-passenger van). The police in that area are extremely strict and there seems to be police checks every 2 kilometers. At one point we were stopped at a police check. The matatu, had two empty seats available in it (the driver knowing that the police were rough in this area)…all was right with the driver, the conductor (collects the money and assists the driver to stop and drop off/pick up passengers), the vehicle licensing and the amount of passengers in it. However, the police wanted their cut of money; they demanded a bribe from the driver and conductor. The driver and conductor refused; why should they pay a bribe when all was fine with the vehicle and the contents inside? The police officer didn’t like that they had refused the bribe so he wrote up a ticket. He said that there were too many people on the matatu (false) and that he driver was out of uniform (again, false!). There was nothing the driver could do at that point; the ticket had been written. He was going to have to pay for it….for what? Doing what the law required of him? Frustrating!

Then on the way from the deep village, back to Kisii town, we were stopped by police. I was sitting in the front seat with one of our friends and I saw the driver put a 100 shilling bill in his hand. The police driver came to my side of the vehicle and stuck out his hand to greet me. I refused at first, pretending not to see his hand. But then he put it in my line of vision and said, “Greet me, please!” I did. Then he turned the driver and stuck out his hand, asking him how he was doing (in Swahili). The driver shook hands with him, the policeman taking the 100 shillings out of the driver’s hand…all right in front of my face. I looked directly at the policeman, shook my head at him and said in Swahili that what he did was very bad manners. He looked very surprised that I knew what was going on and that I knew Swahili. He immediately dismissed us.

After spending two nights in Kisii, Daniel, Larry, Danel and I headed to Kisumu to spend a night there. If any of you had been following the post-election chaos here in Kenya, you would have heard that Kisumu was one of the hardest hit places. We wanted to go and see what damage had been done there.

As we walked the streets of Kisumu, we saw a few burned down businesses; all one tribe owned. It saddened me; it angered me. We are now starting to see the effects of the post-election riots. Many say the people have no one to blame for what is happening in the economy but themselves. As the country now sees the rising cost of food, of fertilizer for planting their staple food and the starving people, they are beginning to see the consequences of their (rioting) actions.

A burned down gas station.

Aburned down supermarket and bank.

A burned business.

There are still thousands of people displaced in Kenya, in their own country. These are people who can’t go back to their homes now or possibly ever. These are people who can’t plant their food in their gardens that would help feed them for the next year or sell to generate an income in their household. And for those people who do have their land still, the cost of fertilizer, necessities, etc. are so high; they can’t afford to buy them to maintain their gardens.

The cost of maize (which we buy for our projects every month) is rising EVERY WEEK. The majority of Kenyans can’t afford the increase of prices.

So what does this mean? It means that there will be a famine here, especially next year. It means that people are going to starve; people are going to die. We are already hearing stories of people dying around the country due to starvation. And this is just the beginning.

And here we have a new government now…the two rivalry parties now joined together in parliament saying that they will help the country get back on their feet. Yet with the new cabinet, the people of Kenya, the taxpayers of Kenya, need to come up with 33 billion shillings over the next two months to pay the new government (and added ministers and new Prime Minister) and their ministries (the new 2008 year budget doesn’t come out until the end of June so we don’t know the actual change for that budget yet). 33 BILLION shillings from people who are dying because they don’t have money to feed themselves. I don’t understand.

The MPs here (Member of Parliament) make a salary of 800,000 shillings a month; plus with their allowances, etc., that gives them over 1 million shillings a month!!! That’s over $16,000 US a month. When the average Kenyan lives off of less than $30 US a month and here the MPs is making over $16,000 US a month and yet they go after the average Kenyan person to come up with the 33 billion shillings (in two months) to support their salaries, their ministries, their allowances, their whatever else.

It frustrates me; it saddens me; it angers me; it breaks me. So why don’t I leave this place? Why don’t I just to come to the point of believing that there is nothing that I can do? Because I can’t. I know that we CAN help these people. We can bring not only food but hope and love to the people of Kenya. That’s what I am here for. I am here for these children, for these families who can’t do it on their own, not without the help, the hand, the love of another.

I can only pray that things get better here before they get (predictably) worse; I can only pray that so many of the people of this country, the place that I know as home, don’t die due to lack of food. I can only pray that another mother doesn’t have to cry over the loss of her child and the guilt of not being able to provide for him or her.

It’s a reality here, my friends. It’s not a Made-For-TV movie; it’s not a Hollywood tearjerker. It’s reality. People are already dying every day due to malnutrition. The only difference now: the amount of deaths per day will only increase. Children will lose their parents, parents will lose their children.

I’m not going anywhere. This is my home. I will care and love for every child I possibly can.

Pray for this country; pray for this continent. We need them….so much.

I love you all!
Meredith
xoxoxo

Sadness & Anger....

2008-04-22T18:54:00.000+03:00

I finally have some time to sit down and type an email, a blog.

As most of you are aware, Daniel is back in Kenya. He arrived in Kitale last Thursday evening, along with his hilarious and fun parents, Larry & Danel. It’s been a busy few days so far, planning our schedule over the next four weeks while Larry & Danel are here and then visiting all of our TI projects so that they can see what we do.

On Sunday, Larry, Danel, Daniel and I went to Eldoret to visit a children’s home that Daniel and I both used to be a part of. Daniel and I hadn’t been there since November and Larry and Danel hadn’t been there in two years. It was great to see the kids that we’ve seen grow up over the past few years. It was nice to be so welcomed and missed by them. We got to spend a lot of time with them, especially the high school kids that were home on their break, like my sweet son Derrick, whom I’ve missed like CRAZY.

Yesterday was back to the routine of work. We had a usual Monday morning TI staff meeting which consisted of a lot of catching up on all of our parts from the past 6 weeks of Daniel’s absence.

After our meeting, we headed to the hospital to visit one of our children, Benard, whom I told you all about a week or so ago. Benard was released from the hospital today and we wanted to go down there and see him and pay the medical bill for his family. Benard looked SO much better then he did when I saw him a week ago. He was wide awake and sitting up. The doctor, who had been on his case, came and greeted us. She went over a few things with us including the results of an HIV test that was done on Benard. The result was what was thought for awhile now. Benard is HIV positive.

When the doctor told us this, I immediately looked at the grandmother and saw the sadness in her face. She looked at me and I saw her eyes fill with tears, for just a moment and then she looked down. I suddenly felt my eyes fill with tears and I had to turn to Danel and look away from Benard and his grandmother to control the tears from falling.

The doctor explained to Anne, Daniel and I that we can apply for assistance for Benard through EMPATH, a government organization here that provides medication to HIV/AIDs patients, should they qualify. This is something that we’ll be doing this week.

While I was standing at Benard’s bed, a woman came up to me and asked if me and my friends would come and pray for her baby. Anne suspected that the woman may have remembered me from the week before when we prayed for the children in the ward. After we were done with Benard, the woman again approached Larry & Danel, asking them to pray for her child. Daniel asked the woman what was wrong with her child and she said that she was born prematurely; she was born at 7 months.

The four of us followed the woman in to a small room. There were two beds on either side of the room; the one on the left had two women and a little girl sitting on it. The other bed on the right hand side had a sweet little baby with the biggest eyes, laying down but staring up at us. There also seemed to be another baby lying on that bed too but was covered in a few blankets.

Up against the wall in front of us was another bed which had a lady lying down, asleep and in the corner to the right was an incubator with the tiniest baby inside. Daniel asked what the baby’s name was; the mother said it was Michelle. So Daniel began to pray; we all began to pray for this little girl, this little, sweet, innocent child, born way too early.

As we left the hospital, I said to Daniel, “It’s déjà vu…remember the last time we left this hospital?” It was when we heard that the street girl, Josephine and her son Mark-Isaac were both HIV positive.

Yesterday a man showed up at our compound gate. He told me that someone told him about me and that I may be able to help me. Daniel and I listened to his story. His wife had died a few years ago of AIDs and he is now fighting the disease himself. His second wife left him not long ago as he had hit a really weak time in his fight of AIDs and therefore she couldn’t handle it and ran away. This man is getting medical assistance from EMPATH and said that he is doing better but he is still very weak and cannot work.

The reason for his coming to our gate was to seek assistance, not for him but for his seven children whom he cannot properly care for. Since he cannot work, he doesn’t have an income and therefore his children are starving. The sadness in his face, the plea of help for his children was evident. He showed that his plea wasn’t for him but for the sake of children. He wanted to somehow know that they would be taken care of now and once something happened to him.

We will be looking at his story, looking at his case….perhaps we can see what can be done.

This is the world we live in here. HIV/AIDs is all around us; we here of stories, deaths, situations almost daily of this disease and what it is doing and has done to so many families. It doesn’t make it easier; it doesn’t make me more numb to the sufferings. In fact, it angers me, it saddens me, it makes me want to do more to protect and care for the children of this country…for they’re the innocent ones.

That’s all I have for you today. Oh yeah, I’ve posted lots of pictures on my blogger the past few days. You’ll need to check them out.

Love you all!
Meredith
xoxoxo

My friends at Oasis of Hope....

2008-04-21T22:14:00.003+03:00

Some of the boys of Oasis of Hope....

The praise and worship team at Oasis' Church.

Ibrahim & Me

Joseph & Emmanuel.

Such beautiful girls...

What beautiful smiles....

Collins being funny....

Emmanuela & Joseph....

I am in love with this boy Evans; I am star-struck when I am around him.
He is beyond AMAZING.

Random Photos...seriously.

2008-04-21T21:24:00.006+03:00

Me, Peter and Linda....

Raining on Mount Elgon

The storm is coming in...

One of our trusted taxi drivers...Peter

Our other trusted taxi driver...Teddy

My favorite Kenyan tree....it's really Africa.

Dennis & Me....he showed up at Oasis (see him in GlueBoys)

The girls from Oasis of Hope...

Driving in to my town of Kitale...

Beautiful Linda from Church of Christ....isn't she GORGEOUS?!?!?!?

A shy little girl from Church of Christ...

Daniel (my missing, beautiful boy) and his sister, Margaret.

Daniel and me....moments after seeing him for the first time in MONTHS!!!

Pictures of some of my kids....

2008-04-15T21:16:00.009+03:00

Loving the balloons....

Mwangi & Me...

The smile of the year....Mwangi

Martin, resting on my lap. He loves just cuddling up against me.

Molongo and I

Molongo and I again...

My sweet and beautiful Lavender...displaying her coloring skills.

Loya and me...

Martin showing off his craft

Johnstone's golden smile....

Carolyne and me...

Me, loving craft time.

All the kids showing off their crafts...

Irine and me

Oh Jacky....such a jem.

Busy & Emotional Moments...

2008-04-14T00:45:00.000+03:00

My apologies for not writing an update sooner. Things have been very busy around here and with the start of rainy season approaching us, the internet and electricity have been on and off.

TI has had a team from California here for almost two weeks now. It’s been fun having them here and the things that they have been doing are AMAZING. Two of the men, Hank & Guy have been assisting in building a kitchen for our children’s home, Hope Bright Future, out in their little village while the ladies (Dolores, Mary & Linda – and our social worker, Anne) spent time visiting other ministries in the area to work with children and then in the afternoons were out in two communities doing women bible studies. The first community, they kept the number controlled to just about 100 women. The second community couldn’t keep the number under control and by the last day, they had over 300 women there.

At the beginning of their trip, the women visited Graceway Academy, a free nursery school for children in the slums of Tuwaini. It’s run by our friends, Africa Connect, who is Eva Joy and her family (you all know who they are or heard me mention Eva Joy a few times). The ladies brought in a bible story, Noah’s Ark, and a felt board for the children to be able to watch the changes in the story. We then did a craft with the children and then took them outside to play with balls and balloons. They were SOOOO excited and happy to have visitors there.

In the afternoons, the women would go to their women’s bible study. They were at the first community for three days (of about 100 women) and the second community for four days (over 300 women). The ladies shared stories and struggles of some of the women the bible; they shared their own testimonies and found some of these widows in the communities sharing their struggles and testimonies. The widows participated in a craft and all received a certificate at the end of the series for attendance. They were so happy to be a part of something. A lot of these women were shocked to hear that bad things can and do happen to white women as well. It was a comfort to them in some ways knowing that we, as white women, can and do understand some of the struggles that they go through. One of the ladies in the group lost her son a few years ago and then a year later, lost her husband. She could relate to the loss that these widows endured. In hearing the testimonies of the team, it brought them a sense of closeness, a sense of “I’m not so alone in my thoughts, in my emotions, after all.” At the end of the women’s conference, a widow stood up and said thank you to the team. She said “Thank you for not just giving us a fish but for teaching us how to fish. We have all learned so much for you these past few days.” The ladies from the team were completely humbled and thankful for the time they were able to spend with the women.

Us ladies then did five mornings at Oasis of Hope, the street kid drop-in centre that I so love. The children were read a bible story, with the felt board images to go along with the story, every morning. We sang songs together; we did tons of crafts together. The ladies bought them brand new footballs (soccer balls) and brought skipping rope for the girls. It was an amazing time with the kids and this was the hardest place for the ladies to leave.

This past Tuesday, I went to Eldoret to pick up two of the last team members: Adam & Harry. They’ve been mostly hanging out with us women and going to the places we go to.

Friday was an emotional day for all of us. The day before, I got word that one of our children in our sponsorship program, Benard, was rushed to the hospital. He hadn’t eaten in about five days and was going in and out of consciousness. Anne, our social worker, had gone to the hospital and was keeping me updated. It was touch and go with Benard for awhile. Then on Friday morning, Anne was at the hospital and sent me a text message stating that they had diagnosed Benard with meningitis.

So I told Anne that I wanted us, the group (minus the two guys going out to the construction site) to go and pray for Benard at the hospital. And we did. Wow, what a sad sight it was…the hospital as a whole. The children’s ward is just packed with children; the smell of urine burns your nostrils. The hospital is not at all sanitary; the beds are of thin foam, sunken in, dirty mattresses. The children are all lined up in beds (a typical ward), needing to share the bed with their parent/guardian. Anne led us to the bed that Benard was in. There he was, wrapped in a white blanket, being held by his grandmother who sat on the bed and rocked him back and forth. Benard may be almost 3 years old but he is the size of a less than a one-year old. It was such a sad sight to see. He looked so incredibly tiny and weak.

Benard was sleeping but I did see him try to open to his eyes twice but he just couldn’t muster the strength. The grandmother looked tired and sad. You could see the worry in her face over her grandson. The grandmother had just been told that Benard would need to stay in the hospital for another ten days as he is at the worse possible state right now and they need to monitor him closely and to continue to pump fluids in to him. The grandmother has been staying with Benard but upon hearing that he would need to stay in the hospital for a longer period of time, she grew concerned over her other grandchildren still at home. We are working on things to ensure that the other grandchildren are taken care of and being monitored.

So, I asked the team to gather around the grandmother and Benard and we laid hands on them and Harry started us in prayer. We all said something for Benard and for his grandmother. The grandmother was so thankful for us to come in and pray for them, to check up on Benard, to show that we cared.

After we prayed for them, we all decided to go amongst the rest of the children in that area of the ward and lay hands on them and pray for them too. The parents/guardians were SO thankful for it. I prayed for this one beautiful little boy Isaiah, who is also suffering from meningitis. I prayed for his mother too, who was there by his side. Afterward, she said she was so thankful that us “white” people would take the time to come in to a hospital like this and spend time with them, praying for their sick children. She was so grateful.

We said our goodbyes to everyone. I wrapped my arms around the grandmother, hugged her tightly and told her that she was loved and God was so proud of her for the way she loved her grandchildren. She looked at me and smiled a big, somewhat toothless smile and said, “Asante Sana Mama.”

As we left the hospital, I could see the emotion on everyone’s face. I could feel the emotion in myself stirring up. I looked over at Adam, one of the team members, and saw the complete devastation in his face, the tears about ready to come down. I came up beside him, grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. I didn’t have to say anything; I didn’t have anything to say; I just wanted him to know it was okay to feel whatever he was feeling at that moment.

After the hospital, we headed to the place, behind the market, where all the street girls hang out. I was excited for this. I have missed my girls.

As Harry, Adam and I were walking to meet up with the ladies (us three walked to town, the others took a taxi), I heard my name being shouted. It just so happened to be two street girls: Lillian and Leah. We came running toward each other and gave one another big hugs. I told them to come with me and the three of us walked hand and hand and hand down the street. We then grabbed the ladies and all headed for our usual stairwell behind the market to sit and hang out with the street girls.

For the most part, the morning turned out to be fun. We had not only street girls but street boys as well. It’s been awhile since I had been back in this area so I got bombarded with kids asking me why I had been so lost and was I here to stay. I confirmed that all was fine and that I was here and not going anywhere. I introduced the kids to the team and they warmed up to them.

One of the street boys asked if I had a camera so that someone could take a picture of him and me. Of course I had my camera on me so I took a picture of us. Well that started a whole craziness of wanting to take pictures so every street child had to sit next to me so we could get our picture taken together. Even this old Turkanan woman wanted her photo with me, so I took it. She was killing herself laughing when she would see the picture of her. I wondered if she had ever seen what she herself looked like. One picture I took of her and me, she was laughing, her mouth wide open, showing the bad shape her teeth were in. When I showed her the picture, she immediately closed her mouth and covered it. I could see the embarrassment in her face so I showed her the picture again, pointed at her photo, then pointed at her and told her in Swahili that she was very beautiful. She looked at me with a wide, bright smile, started hugging on my arm and then laughed hysterically. She couldn’t stop laughing after that even if I had wanted her to (not that I wanted her to). She had tears rolling down her cheeks from the laughter and looking at her pictures and the pictures of the kids.

Then it started to get crazy. It was great having all of the street kids around but then it started attracting the street men who were either extremely high or extremely drunk. One of the ladies had some crafts in a bag that she had tucked under her skirt. Well in a second, one of the street men, reached for the bag of crafts and started running with it. In less than two seconds, he was chased by almost all the street boys that were with us, thrown down, the bag ripped from him and returned to me. The boys then brought the “thief” over to me and asked me what they can do to him for me for stealing. They asked if they could beat him for me or if they could burn him.

Yes, burn him…a normal occurrence/consequence of being caught stealing. They put a rubber tire over the thief, arms locked in to the tire so he can’t free himself and then set the tire on fire. The thief burns alive and all the while a crowd of people watch, most of them cheering at the thief getting what he deserved and listening to the sound of his screams and cries of pain until he becomes silent, dead.

It was clear that this street man (probably around 20 years old or so) was so high and so messed up; he didn’t know where he was, what he was doing or even who he was. The other street kids were looking at me, wondering what I would have them do to this guy. When they brought him over, he hung his head down, managed to look up and say he was sorry. I asked him if he wanted me to call the police, to throw him in jail and have the police deal with him. Again, he said that he was so sorry….in a mumbling, barely audible way. I told him that he was forgiven and told the boys to let him go. I think they were a bit shocked, wanting or expecting more. But I would never have a kid beaten or burned to death. All I can do is forgive him.

That’s when things started to get a little rowdy. The older street men started to get a bit violent in their words and coming toward the team. I looked at Anne and said, “Time to go.” She agreed. The street men were yelling at us to go, get out of there….if we weren’t going to give them money or anything, then we had no right being there, etc. Everything was fine with the street kids; they weren’t asking for anything (because Daniel and I have set boundaries with them and they know that we just like hanging out with them) but the street men, they have different agendas. They don’t care about us, they just care of what they can get from us.

I started to round up the team and told them it was time to go. As we all stood up, one of the drunken men started shouting at us and heading toward the team to scare them off. Without even thinking or caring, I got between this big 6 foot plus drunken man and the team. Although I came up to his chest, I stood tall, got in his face, pointed my finger at him and firmly said, “You will NOT talk to my friends that way, you will NOT go near my friends and you will NOT tell us where to go. Do you understand?” The man was shocked as were a few of the other men around him. He immediately put his hands up, backed away and said, “I’m sorry Mum. I’m sorry. It’s okay.” One of the shop owners, I think, or maybe his friend, started laughing. “Hey, you’re a strong one! This one’s an African.” And he started pointing at me.

Harry asked me if he should take up of the back of the group as we left but I felt more comfortable doing it myself, knowing these guys. I told him it was okay, I would take up the back. It even got to the point where the street men, were running up to me, telling me it was okay for me to come back and stay, that they were sorry for trying to send us away. But we continued on.

We took the street girls with us and took them out for lunch. We went to a restaurant, got a big table and we all sat around it. It was SOOOO much fun spending time with them. There were only five street girls with us and one little street boy that Linda grew fond of. The kids devoured the chicken and French fries and their sodas. One of the street girls makes necklaces and goes around the street with her baby on her back selling them. So I let the kids pick out a necklace they liked and bought each of them one.

After the lunch with the street girls (which gave the team a bigger view of the street life here – they watched Glue Boys and now seeing things in the reality and not just on TV, really hit them in a big and good way), we went to visit a children’s home named Church of Christ. It’s the oldest children’s home in Kitale and is managed by the most amazing people EVER, Bosco and Nancy. I love these people and I could seriously sit and talk with them all day long.

And here’s the coolest thing EVER. We got out of the taxis at Church of Christ and started to get greeted by a number of little children. All of a sudden, I felt this hand on my shoulder and a familiar voice say my name. I turned around to see the most beautiful face that I have missed for so long. It was my sweet street boy Daniel that used to go to Oasis of Hope.

I can’t even describe to you the emotions that I felt at that moment. I seriously grabbed on to him and hugged him for dear life. I picked him up and swung him around; I kept looking at his face to see if it was really him. I covered him with hugs and kisses. I wanted to burst in to tears at the sight of him; I wanted to burst in to laughter in thankfulness that he was okay. Another add-on to the emotional day.

I hadn’t seen Daniel since before the riots started. I had been in contact with Oasis of Hope but they didn’t know where he had gone to. They were told he was at some other home and when I contacted this home, they said they had never heard of him. I have been asking street kid after street kid where Daniel was and none of them knew. Even at Oasis this past week, I was asking some of the older boys that I knew Daniel hung out with in the past, where he was. They didn’t know either.

But there he was…standing in front of me, the beautiful smile that I so loved. It turns out that he approached the Church of Christ pick-up truck in town one day and told them that he believed his sister, Margaret, was living there. It turned out that she was and Bosco and Nancy saw how well behaved he was and thought they would give it a try with him and reunite him with his sister. Nancy said that he is just an amazing, well-behaved boy. And then Daniel brought me over to a beautiful girl and said, “Mary, this is my sister Margaret!” I immediately saw the resemblance (they are full brother and sister) and just wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tightly. I was SOOO happy to meet her. And then of course, I wanted pictures of me with them….so we did. Margaret didn’t know what to think at first of me but then she quickly warmed up.

Daniel told me that he was first in his grade six class after the recently completed first-term exams. I was so proud of him and I just couldn’t stop hugging him. I was still in awe of seeing him again. He was so proud of being in a home and he was so happy to show the team around the boy’s house and where his bedroom was. Bosco and Nancy spoke so highly of him and said that he is such an amazing boy. I was so happy to hear that and Daniel looked really happy too. Wow, I could gush about Daniel for hours.

So that’s pretty much it so far. Lots of pictures of the past two weeks. Will get them up soon.

Please pray for Benard, our little boy in the hospital. Please pray for his grandmother.

Please pray for this team, that the remainder of the trip will be just as powerful and eye-opening as the beginning of the trip.

Please pray for Daniel as he prepares to come back to Kenya next week. I can’t wait to have my friend back here.

Love you all!

Meredith

xoxoxoxo

Crazy Dreamin'

2008-03-31T17:14:00.001+03:00

Last night I had this crazy dream. Here it is.

I woke up to our dog, Rija (Rye-ja) whining, like she was being tortured. So I go to our side door and begin to whistle, knowing that they always come when I whistle because they know it’s treat time. But nothing, neither dog comes.

So I go outside to see what is going on with the dogs. I see Cusko (coo-sko) lying dead on the grass by a tree and Rija, barely alive, laying by his side, her head on his stomach, whining at the loss of her friend and the pain that she was in. I start to get a little scared, realizing that there is something incredibly wrong and I turn around to run to the house and find two men standing at the door that I so desperately wanted to get through.

I turned and ran for the guy’s house, knowing that it was open because it was being cleaned today. But they got me in time and threw me down on the gravel. They demanded on the money that I had…

I won’t get in to the details of the dream but it was a bit freaky and why I dreamt it, I don’t know. But the reason I’m telling you this is because of what happened FOR REAL this morning….

I woke up this morning and as I got out of the shower, I could hear a dog whining and it sounded like Rija. My heart started going CRAZY. I got dressed and went to the side door and began to whistle, my usual whistle for the dogs, letting them know it was treat time. But they didn’t come. I whistled two or three more times but nothing, not one dog, nothing.

So I closed and locked the door behind me, started praying and then started looking through each window of the house for any sign of the dogs and anything else that may be off. But I couldn’t see the dogs and obviously couldn’t see two or even one man (which honestly was what I was really looking for).

I went to the kitchen and grabbed the largest and scariest knife that we had, my cell phone with Bud’s phone # ready (all I had to do was push “Talk”) and unlocked the door. I tried one more time with the whistle to see if the dogs would come….NOTHING.

I opened up the metal door and walked slowly out, saying, “I have a knife and I’ll hurt you if you come near me.” And I headed in the direction of the tree, the tree in my dream where my two sweet dogs were: one dead, the other one dying. As I turned the corner, there they were my sweet dogs at the tree in my dream.

But no, they weren’t dead. They were both sitting there, staring up in to the tree. Was one of the men up in the tree? Rija was looking up in the tree, whining every so often. Cusko sat quietly looking up.

I whistled at them, they looked at me and Cusko came running toward me but Rija stayed. I headed toward the tree, knife in hand, visible to whoever was in the tree, so they knew that I meant business. Rija watched the tree, Cusko walked in front of me, looking at me then at the tree….back and forth he’d look.

I approached the tree and looked up. I saw a branch move quickly. I looked at Rija to get a sense of where she was looking. She started to whine again, circling that particular spot. I moved to where she was and looked up.

And there I saw….a family of monkeys. There was this massive monkey, HUGE, with a white beard like face and then a smaller monkey with a baby monkey on its back. The massive monkey looked down at me and in one graceful swoop, came down a few branches to get a closer look at me. He was probably thinking "who’s this nut bar with a cell phone open in one hand and a huge knife in the other?"

He looked at me for a moment; our eyes fixed on each other. And then just as fast as he came down those few branches, he was back up to be with the other two monkeys and then they jumped through all these branches, to the point where I couldn’t see them any more.

So yeah, that was my morning adventure. : )

Anyway, tomorrow I’m off to Eldoret (the airport) to pick up 5 members of a team that are coming to stay with us for two weeks. They are from California and their other two members will be arriving the week after. Pray that all goes well. It’s a jam-packed two weeks.

Love you all,

Meredith

xoxoxo

Long Weekend Festivities

2008-03-26T17:04:00.000+03:00

I hope that everyone had a wonderful long weekend and enjoyed their time with family, friends and most importantly, God.

My weekend here was nothing different. I was supposed to go to the children’s home on Saturday but woke up with a migraine from crazy land. I was so incredibly nauseous. It was about 12:30 or so before I was able to get out of bed. Needless to say, I didn’t get to see the kids. I was NOT happy about that.

On Sunday, I went in to town to do a bit of shopping and found Paul, the boy I talked about in my blog dated March 20th, 2008.

As soon as Paul saw me, he came running. He told me in his broken English (and a bit of translation from his friend) that he took the money I gave him, went to the local clinic and bought medicine. He pulled out the big red pills to show me. He said that he was taking the medicine like the doctor said. He was told by the doctor to take food with the medicine and to be cautious of what he ate, so that it didn’t upset his stomach.

Paul was so proud to show that he didn’t spend the money on anything stupid but on medicine to help clear his “sickness” up. I asked him if he got an HIV test done and he said that he couldn’t get one done as it cost money. I told him that the local clinic was free for HIV testing but he was adamant that it cost money to get it done. My plan is going to find out from them this week to see if there really is a charge.

Some may think I’m stupid or crazy for doing this, but I just really felt I needed to. I left Paul to go in to the grocery store and when I came out of the store, I summoned him over. I handed him over a grocery bag containing three loaves of bread, 2 bags of tea leaves and one bag of sugar. I told him that this was for him and ensuring that he had something to eat when he took the medicine and if I found out that he did something else with it, I would kick his butt.

The smile that came across his face was priceless. He stared at me for a moment, surprised. “Awe, Mary. Asante, asante sana.” He put his arms out to hug me but based on his age and his height, I gave him the handshake with a small Baptist hug/nudge. He said he loved me; smiled another big smile and then ran off.

Today, I saw his friend (and my sweetie) Gideon in town. I asked Gideon if Paul was around and he said that he was over somewhere eating bread and tea. I had to laugh when I heard that. I asked how Paul was feeling and Gideon the medicine was good and so Paul was doing better.

Gideon asked me if I was going to take Paul to the hospital and I said that I wasn’t going to take him. I said that the medicine should help him with whatever is wrong (Anne, our social worker and I assume its gonorrhea).

One of the few boys that came over to Gideon and me said that he refuses to have sex with “those ghetto girls. They’ll give me AIDs or something.” I patted him on the back, said, “Good for you Alex! Try not having sex at all until you get married, okay? That way you won’t have to worry about any diseases. Sawa?” He laughed and said, “Sawa Mary.” Then I turned to Gideon and a few other boys, “No sleeping with the girls, sawa boys?” They all were disgusted at the thought of it and then one of the younger ones said, “I don’t want what Paul has. I don’t like medicine.”

So thankfully and hopefully, Paul’s experience has scared the other boys away. Unfortunately these boys (and girls) aren’t being taught sex education, whether it’s safe sex or abstinence all together. When living on the street, they (the boys) get bored and to them, there’s nothing else to do so they have sex with the girls. And the girls, well, this is how they make their living…by prostituting themselves, never wondering or sometimes never caring that they are one moment away from killing themselves or the man that they are with for that thirty minutes.

Love you all!
Meredith
xoxoxo

Drugs, Sex and God...

2008-03-20T22:31:00.000+03:00

His name is Paul. He is 18 years old; a fairly good-looking young boy. He has a beautiful smile; in fact, he’s always smiling. He sees me walking down the road, “Mary! Mary! Una enda wapi?” (Where are you going?”)

I tell him that I’m going to Khetia’s, our large supermarket, to meet Anne, our social worker. Today is food delivery day for one of our projects. Paul continues to walk with me, engaging in conversation…my not-so-good Swahili and his not-so-good English but thankfully, we manage to keep the talks going and fully understand what the other is saying.

I ask Paul if he has any glue on him; he looks at me in hurt and shock, “Ah no, Mary, hakuna gum.” (No glue – gum is glue in Kenya. If you want to refer to chewing gum, you have to say bubble gum). I tell him he’s cheating me but he insists that he doesn’t have any glue. And for the most part I believe him; he doesn’t have that glazed over look like the other kids do. He is fully aware of his surroundings and his speech is impeccable. Then he says in Swahili that he doesn’t like gum. He says, “Mungu ni moja, hapana gum.” which is “God is the one, not gum.”

Paul began to tell me that gum ruins the mind; it makes you crazy like some of the other boys we both know on the streets. He said that he doesn’t want to go crazy; he wants to love God, get a job or maybe school.

I softened a bit toward him; impressed with his words, feeling compassion for him. As we arrived to Khetia’s, I saw Anne waiting for me. When Paul noticed that I was with a Kenyan, he got a bit shy. I told him it was okay and then he just started blabbing in fast Swahili to Anne. I couldn’t make out all that he was saying. I saw shock, then sadness on Anne’s face, then her shaking her head.

I asked her what Paul had said. Paul told Anne that he had sex with some of the “ghetto” girls, aka street girls, and now he wasn’t feeling well. He said that there was something wrong with him. He didn’t feel right. He wanted to go to the hospital to be checked out.

At that moment, Anne got a phone call, so she stepped aside and in my broken Swahili, I tried to communicate with him. I wanted to be bold with him.

I asked him, “You don’t like gum because it ruins your mind, right? It makes you crazy right?” He said, “Yes, it makes you go crazy. I don’t like gum.”

I asked, “Do you know of AIDs?” He said, “Yes, I know AIDs. It’s very bad.”

I asked, “Do you like AIDs?” He looked at me like I was the crazy one. “Ah no, Mary, I don’t like AIDs. It kills you.”

I looked at him, put my hand on his arm, “Then why Paul, why are you having sex with street girls. With girls you know are sleeping with many other men? You having sex with girls that probably have AIDs, is just as bad as you taking gum. It makes you crazy; it kills you.”

He hung his head down. “Pole Mary. Pole sana.” (I’m sorry, Mary. I’ve very sorry.).

I asked if a condom was used; he said that he didn’t have money for a condom and they didn’t have any condoms at that time.

He asked if I would forgive him; I told him that I already have. But that it wasn’t my forgiveness he needed, he needed to go to God for forgiveness. He asked me if God was mad at him; I said that I think God was sad but that God was waiting for Paul to talk to Him, to say he was sorry to God.

I told him that he needed to talk to God and then he needed to go to the hospital or the VCT and get checked out. I told him that he needed to stop having sex with those girls, any girls.

At that point, Anne was ready to go in to the store so I told him I had to go and we’d talk later. When Anne and I finished shopping, Paul was still there, waiting. So he carried our bags to our next destination. I gave him some little money and told him to save it or take it to the VCT to get checked.

He looked at me somewhat hurt and angry, “Help me, Mary!” And then he stormed off.

I’ve thought about him all day today.

What do I do? What can I do?

The Loss of a Friend

2008-03-17T09:28:00.000+03:00

The Loss of a Friend

It’s funny how yesterday I was celebrating a little girl’s first birthday and today I’m mourning the loss of a friend.

I woke up this morning, checked my email and found a message saying that my friend Barry Hall died of cancer on Sunday, March 16th, 2008 at 3:00a.m.

He turned 45 on Saturday, March 15th, 2008. His last full day on earth was spent celebrating his birthday with family and friends by his side. What a wonderful way to spend your last day.

It’s amazing how the moment you hear of someone’s death, you are suddenly filled with every possible memory of them. I remembered little details of conversations Barry and I had. I remember shortly after turning 16, he handed me the keys to his Mustang and said, “Wanna go for a ride?” And the sheer joy and excitement I felt because 1) he trusted me to drive his sweet car and 2) I was getting to drive a MUSTANG. I remember Barry giving me the “guy talks”; it was basically, “Guys that age only want 1 thing, so don’t give it to them. Besides you really shouldn’t date until your 25. But if you must date and the guy hurts you; I’ll kill him!” I remember stupid comments that he made and I would have tears pouring down my cheeks from laughing so hard at him.

And now as the tears pour down my cheeks now, I’m terribly saddened that I didn’t get to say good-bye to him. But I’m thankful for the memories that suddenly flooded my thoughts. It’s a comfort for me.

I just ask that you pray for his family during their time of mourning. And I ask that you pray for my dad. Barry was like a big brother to me but a great friend to my dad. This is going to be hard on him. Thank you.

Love you all!
Meredith
xoxoxo

First Birthday Party...

2008-03-16T19:30:00.002+03:00

I went to a first birthday party today. The birthday girl’s name is Ruth Neema. She lives just up the road from us and is the foster daughter of our friends Daniel & Anastasia. Daniel’s nephew, Eric, had found Ruth abandoned on the road one evening on his way home. She was only a few days old at that time.

It’s definitely not like any one-year old birthday party that I’ve been to before. I was told to come anytime between 3 - 4:00pm. So I thought, this is Kenya, I’ll show up closer to 4:00 and I did. I was the LAST one to arrive and to top it off, the pastor from their church was giving a mini sermon. The house had about 40 people in it; I was the only white person.

They immediately found a chair for me to sit in, front and centre. I immediately noticed that the room was divided in to 3 sections: children at one table, women at the couches area and men at another table. No men sat with women and no children sat with men. They were all in their own little areas.

After the pastor was done speaking, another gentleman stood up who I realized quickly was the “MC” for the party. He introduced certain people who would then stand up and give a little speech about Ruth and then about Daniel & Anastasia.

There were three people that spoke; they were short, sweet and in Swahili but I caught the jist of what was being said in each speech. The MC then says, “That is all the speeches I have for you. But I do see that we have one special guest that we have never met before.” Oh-oh, I knew it; I knew that I couldn’t get away with just showing up and sitting there. I knew they were going to want me to talk. So the MC asked Daniel to tell everyone who I was. Daniel told them of how met and left me to give my name to the people.

I stood up and said, “Mimi ni Mary!” (I am Mary!) and then joked that this was the only Swahili I knew to which everyone laughed and Daniel quickly denied. I talked about how children are a blessing, a gift from God and how much of a blessing it has been for me to see Ruth from just a few weeks old when I met her to being a part of her first birthday. I prayed for them, asked that God just continue to bless this amazing family, bless Daniel and Anastasia for the love and heart that they have for all the children in their home.

Then after that, the MC called on someone to pray and then said, “It’s time for the cake.” So they brought out the cake and a candle. Eric had the honor of holding Ruth during the blowing out of the candle (which he did) since he was the one who had found her and brought her home. We sang Happy Birthday, then the cake was cut up in to lots of pieces and those pieces were distributed around the room for everyone.

After the cake, everyone sat at their places at the tables. I sat at the table the kids were initially at but then realized that the kids ran outside to assist in preparing the plates of food. They served rice, boiled potatoes, beans and cooked cabbage.

Then came the funny part. As soon as people were done eating, they literally got up, said thanks for inviting me and then good-bye. They just ate and ran. No small talk, no helping clean up, nothing. Almost everyone left.

As soon as I was done eating, I got up and started clearing off and stacking the plates that had been left on the table by the other guests. Some of the children and women still there eating, looked at me in complete disbelief. One of the girls stopped eating to help me but I told her to finish eating and I would clean up. One of the boys walked over and told me that I would make a good wife someday. So I put plates in his hand, told him to take them to the kitchen and that way, he would make a good husband someday. : ) He gave me A LOOK and then laughed hysterically at me. I think he thought I was kidding! : )

I sat and visited for awhile, including holding, kissing and snuggling up to the birthday girl. It was a good few hours and I liked that I got to experience a first birthday, Kenyan style. I love learning new things about my friends and their culture.

Like I’ve said before, I love it here.

Love you all!
Meredith
xoxoxoxo