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
At the beginning of their trip, the women visited
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
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
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
Love you all!
Meredith
xoxoxoxo
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
Love you all,
Meredith
xoxoxo
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
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
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?
