Old School

This is a picture of me when I was about 5. Apparently African kids and I go way back.

Monologue

During my solo treks during the day my mind is usually doing one of two things. Singing a few lines of a song that is stuck there, or in an ongoing narrative to which there is no audience. I write like I think. Maybe I think like I write…In any case, in my little mind there is an imaginary audience that I am writing/talking to. I don’t do this purposefully, I just find myself doing it. The events of my day, my feelings, hopes, ponderings are all circling in a storyline of sorts. Some of those things make it in my journal, some on this here blog, some in my actual dialogue with others.

Today, in my ponderings, my future came up. Frankly with my topsy turvey life these last few months, I really can’t in detail even think past a few weeks at a time. God willing I am here for the next 2-3 years or so. Then I will spend a good few months spending time at home with all the people I love. Then…another term? (Which, is kind of the plan). Maybe more education? A mental breakdown? (jk!) Who really knows?

I got denied for my first try at a visa. Plan B is in affect so hopefully that will come through in the next week or so.

It is an interesting time in my life, and now more than ever I really, really believe that my plans are kind of futile right now and that God will work perfectly without me trying to make sense of everything in my head. Not to say that I don’t have all sorts of hopes and dreams. Including, but not limited to, my own small farm, marriage, authoring a book, see God transform the lives of hurt and broken kiddos, getting my sisters to come see Africa, being fluent in an African language, blackberry bushes in my backyard, an understanding of holistic health, people I love to cook for every day, doing some radical things for God that have yet to be thought of. Mostly I want to be faithful. To live transformed by what Christ did. I am here for the using, and I want it to matter. You can’t have everything you want all at once. That’s a good thing. Right now what I want is to be in Africa (check…), work with children at risk, and have an ample supply of fruits and veggies around. I am happy to be here and I am excited to see the next steps unfold.

Faith is a result of trust I am learning. I trust I will be of some use to someone here. I trust that God uses those who make themselves available. My faith is growing. I hope it never stops.

“I wonder at some points if I am being irresponsible or unwise. But then I realize there is never going to come a day when I stand before God and he looks at me and says, “I wish you would have kept more for yourself.”” David Platt

Sadness and Rats and Hope

The boys center is where I am spending most of my afternoons. Still, obviously, I do not understand 98% of what the boys say. So I usually sit with one of the COH folks and listen to them converse in Kiswahili. Sometimes they kind of translate what’s going on, and sometimes they don’t. Which is fine. I mean, I would like an idea, but I don’t think it’s necessary for them to continually stop, while they are relating one on one with a child, to tell me what they are saying. I am happy for the focus to remain where it belongs.

But it does not take a Kiswahili translator to know that there is a whole lot of hurt in that place.

Today there was a new boy there. He is so small! Can’t be more than 6 or so. We just talked with him for a bit, but apparently his Dad died a few years ago, he has never been to school, and his mom sends him out to the streets to beg, which is where he was picked up by the police and taken to the center. So, so sad.

Also, we learned this week that there is a lot of, um, sodomy going on. Keep in mind that these boys are mostly 8-14 years old. I know that these things exist; I was aware of it in one of the homes I spent time in when I was in Guatemala and I have done my fair share of reading about children at risk. But when you see the faces of the boys it is really heartwrenching to think about.

One of the staff members was telling me that last year at the center there was a big rat problem. I mean big, not only as in they were heavy in number, but they were apparently quite large. Like, they scared the dog. There is barely enough food to go around for the boys, sometimes they only get one meal a day or less, so that left nothing for the rats to eat. So the rats CHEWED ON THE BOYS. Seriously. They said that the boys had bite marks and open bleeding wounds on their legs and ankles. The lovely folks I worked with paid for them to be eradicated. Good people. Can you imagine?!

According to the stories I have read and one girl that I work with the center used to be a whole lot worse when it first started in 2005. There were over 100 boys in a small room, 2-3 to a bed, they were never let outside, had only one small cup of porridge a day, and many of them were sick. A little while after the place had been in operation; because it was so bad a group of 150 kids or so who were still living on the streets banded together, made makeshift weapons, broke into the center, and set the boys free. They carried the sick boys out on sheets of metal and took them straight to the hospital where they demanded treatment for them. Isn’t that kind of amazing? The guards of the center said after the fact that they were kind of glad that someone did something because it was so bad there.

Which brings me to my next thought. Hope. Obviously I do not outright advocate all the destruction and use of weapons and such. But the leadership, teamwork, passion, and ingenuity that went into setting those boys free are incredible. What amazing potential for good! The other day at the center a teenage boy came by to give his grade report to one of the COH staff. This kid was nicely dressed, clean cut, polite. He was rescued from the home a couple of years back, and is under sponsorship for his schooling. You would have never guessed, He is one of the 325 or so kids that have been rescued, and while not all are success stories, he is the reason why they do what they do. He stayed a little while and went around talking to some of the boys about how he used to be exactly where they are, to encourage them to go home, and tell them that they can do great things. Incredible.

Bananas and Other Stories

A few amusing snippets from these first few weeks.

When I was on safari we had been on a particularly long game drive. I really had to pee. Our small convoy stopped and a fellow got out and relieved himself. Another lady went to go behind a bush out a ways, so I decided to join in. I dodged a large pile of rhino droppings, found a bush, kept a lookout for snakes and went for it. Only to be yelled at halfway through that we were only 2 minutes from the park gate. No one could have mentioned that before 3 of us got out and mentioned our intentions?

Even what I thought were mostly perfectly comfortable shoes, have still given me blisters in my 1.5+hours of walking each day. Very thankful that I brought 2 pairs of Toms with me.

The wind from a passing Matatu is enough to blow up your skirt. Yup.

I look down when I walk by myself for a few reasons. First of all, I am painfully aware that I am a bit out of place and am being stared at by some. Looking down helps me not face this reality. Second, there are very, very few conventional sidewalks. Some streets have barely any room to walk, most have some sort of dirt trodden path.  Some of these paths have rocks. Some of these rocks are loose. Some of these loose rocks are on sections that are at a bit of an incline. These things lead to tripping and slipping (so far no falling though!), which frankly, is kind of embarrassing. Third, there is a lot of dirt and exhaust being blown around constantly and looking down helps in preventing dirt from getting in my eyes. There are also random piles of, um, waste that I would prefer to not step in. I also look down because the couple of times I have looked up and at people (because in the US it is impolite to be looking down at your feet all the time) it has usually invited some sort of verbal greeting or comment. Which would be ok I guess except that as I walk past I heard a few men mock my “hello” response, and I just felt a little uncomfortable. I am absolutely still learning what is culturally acceptable and such (like, is eye contact inviting? If I smile at a stranger does that mean more than I think it does? Is it stupid to try and text while I walk? Etc), and it is likely that is me being a little paranoid. But I am ok with that for now. So, I will continue to look at my feet to avoid falling for the time being.

Crossing the street is scaaary. There are no traffic lights, crosswalks, or road signs really. So when crossing a street you kind of wait for a break in traffic, usually there isn’t really one. Generally I kind of take a deep breath cross one lane, stand in the middle, then run through the other lane. Some kind souls slow down so you can go. Sometimes it works out that someone is turning and you get a lucky break. I always hope for locals or someone else at the same intersection who is braver than me to be crossing the same way, and I just follow their lead. One day the road was really busy and I was feeling a little overwhelmed so I just stood there for a minute. A guy standing there must have sensed my insecurity said “You can just go, they will stop.” I said, “Uhh..ok,” and ran across. The cars did slow down. That was nice. I was telling a Kenyan girl at the office about it and she found the story really funny. Silly Americans.

On my walk home the other day I passed a man on the ground with some sort of bloody head injury and bloody hands with a small crowd of people around, that had doubled by the time I got halfway up the street. If that doesn’t serve to pick up ones pace when walking I don’t know what will.

On a more amusing note, I accidentally bought 20 bananas from a street vendor the other day. Whoops. It only cost me about $1.15, though, so no harm done really.

What do you do with all those bananas? Share some with your guard of course. Now we are friends. He told me his name was Oballa, not Obama. I was amused, and it helped me remember his name.

I have had a few Africans ask me how their boy (Obama) is doing. They love him.

On my walk there is a sweet old beggar man with a prosthetic leg that sits next to him. Its not a good idea to give money to beggars for multiple reasons. This man seems really sweet so I bring an extra banana (because I have a few to spare) or sandwich or something to give him every day. I know it isn’t much, but to do nothing feels kind of callous. The kids who follow you with open palms are the hardest to walk by, and also the most persistent..especially when you are carrying 2 bags of groceries. A few seem a little taken aback when I reach in my bag and hand them fruit. I did hear, though, that in big cities that some gangs use beggars. That’s tough. So I carry very little money…and extra bananas.

Nairobi

As I await things to settle following the referendum voting and my visa for Sudan I am in Nairobi working with Kenya Children of Hope (http://www.kenyachildrenofhope.org/). I am so thankful for the opportunity to basically tag a long and learn from them while I am here. The fact that it is in walking distance from where I am staying (well, 50 minutes each way) is a gift as well. I am not brave enough to brave the Matatus (brightly colored run down vans that rush around the city and serve as the form of public transportation) yet on my own. The staff is totally Kenyan, except for the founder and a gal from India who just recently joined the team. Their approach is a bit different from what I have seen before. They work with the Kenyan government’s “rehabilitation center.”  When police arrest boys for walking alone in the city, this is where they take them. All of them have spent at least some time living in the streets. COH goes there 3 days a week to talk with a handful of boys one on one. During this time they build relationship and trust with the boys. They learn their story as to how they got there, about their family, and will ask multiple times over the course of a few weeks until the story seems consistent and they have enough information to start tracing the family. They always pray with the boys when they are done talking, as well as the team before and after the visits. They also hold informal school Tues-Thurs because they are not in school at all while at the center, and they want them to be able to catch up as quickly as possible once they are back with their families and in school. Once they have enough information they are able to start tracing the family. This usually involves a visit, meeting with the family, and figuring out the issues that are there and how to bring reconciliation. The goal is to place every boy back in his family, and if that is not possible they find foster care. COH provides help with good parenting seminars, school fees, support from local leaders in the community where the family is (teachers, church leaders), all with discouraging dependency and working to empower the families. Once they are reconciled they continue to follow up and make sure that everyone is doing well. Many of the boys are from single parent homes, slums, families with drug or alcohol issues. COH restores boys to their families while helping the families lift out of difficult circumstances. It is really awesome to see, and their approach is really intriguing.

COH spends all of Monday morning every week fasting and in prayer for the boys, their families, and the work they are doing. Then the rest of the day is spent planning for the week. This is done at their not yet operational halfway house. Tuesday-Friday the day starts at 8 with prayer, praise, and devotions, which lasts until 9:30 or so. And…yeah, I am in Africa! Haha, their time of devotions is very different from what I am used to. It consists a lot of everyone praying out loud, loudly, all at the same time. Sometimes breaking out into songs in Swahili, breaking here and there to read a few verses. Ends with some sharing of praise and prayer requests for the boys and their families, of which, each one is followed by everyone praying out loud. Tuesday-Thursday they go to the center for the rest of the morning, but on Fridays they go to a slum. They go there to meet the boys on the street, build a relationship, and try to reconcile them to their families one by one. This Friday will be my first experience with that.

At the halfway house they have a small farm, a greenhouse, and some goats and chickens. They are selling the produce currently to raise revenue and one day they plan to teach farming skills and other vocational things as well. For those of you that are not aware, I fancy myself an organic farmer with a beehive and some chickens. Well, not yet anyway; but one day. It is part of my mental image of the future version of myself. To see a place like this, a place of healing for kids with all kinds of goodness coming up from the earth, was a bit like seeing something I had been picturing in my head for a long while. It is encouraging and exciting to see that  in existence.

Like I said, this is a really incredible opportunity to observe and learn from these lovely folks. I am really limited in my ability to communicate as I know no Kiswahili, but I plan on learning quite a bit in my (hoooopefully short) time here. I have experience with all kinds of kids, but this is my first time with working with street kids. It is a wonderful chance to get a little insight before I start over in Sudan learning Arabic and working at the street kid’s center there.

Hope those of you back in the US are not buried under too much snow. Love to you all the way from Africa!

Week 1 Reflections

My first week in Africa has been spent at a conference. Which has been a unique opportunity for me to get to know the folks here, as well as get some wisdom and encouragement from those who have conquered the first baby steps in a new land. There are people from all over—Brits, Aussies, Americans, Africans, and a few Canadians. They have each had a chance to share about what they are doing and how God is moving where they are at. They are involved in all kinds of cool stuff. There is an African couple doing a sports ministry in South Sudan to bring together all of the different tribes in that particular area, an Austrailian gal who is starting a vocational school and holding healing weeks for former child soldiers, a couple that is teaching communities about natural medicine and sustainable farming, teachers, a small team living in tents and building houses the way the people there do...all kinds of great stuff.

I have been able to meet my team and get to know them a bit. I will get to know them better next week on their team retreat (and safari) which I, so luckily, am able to tag along on. This week I have also visited a coffee plantation…which was actually not all that exciting since it is the off season. But they do supply to Starbucks, so that’s something. Also, even though I am not much of a meat eater, I tried some goat for the first time. Not my new favorite food, to say the least.

Also this week there have been Bible study sessions. This morning there was a great session led by an African pastor about spiritual warfare. We looked at a lot of scripture—examining that our battle is not against flesh and blood (i.e. man), and that the devil is a liar. He lies, steals, destroys. He uses our minds to plant lies. When discouraging thoughts come, it is not just ho hum life—it is Satan whispering lies to us. I will say that my knowledge of spiritual warfare is pretty small. I knew that was something that I would be dealing with a lot more here. I had never really considered our thoughts to be tools that the devil can use. But in the overwhelming whirlwind of leaving everyone I love and everything I know to do something that frankly, I feel a little ill equipped for, I have certainly had thoughts of discouragement and doubt. But no matter what I am feeling Gods truths remain—that He is good, He is sovereign, and He requires sacrifice. I gave Him my life a long time ago and there’s no turning back. Not for this girl.

If you so desire you can be praying for visa issues so that I can get settled asap. Also for grace to learn culture, some good friends, and to find my place here.

Ohhh So Thankful!

First things first. I am fully recovered from the kidney donation. Feeling back to normal, and praising God for a (relatively) easy and probably-about-as-painless-as-it-could-be recovery.

ANDDDDDDD raising my hands and dancing my feet in praise because I am almost fully funded and approved to leave on Christmas for Africa! I prayed for a miracle and I got one. How amazing is that?! I read somewhere once that God loves to come through for us--I believe it! I had a deadline and it was literally down to the day before to reach the 90% monthly support for a December departure and it came through down to the dollar. Amazing. What is REALLY cool is that I had been keeping in touch with another kidney donor that donated the same day I did at Johns Hopkins. He emailed me that day saying he wanted to help with my trip and asking how much more I needed...and he stepped up to make up what I was lacking. Incredible! Oh man, I just love when you can see Gods hand at work and moving. How comforting it is to see that He really is orchestrating things His way and for His glory.

I am delighted, excited, thankful...and (lets be honest) kind of stressed. Lets DO THIS Lord!
Will be sharing more about specifics soon! Thanks for the love and support!