Bringing Home Mwangi… Again?

So, If you read the last post you were probably pretty excited (like me) about Mwangi going home off the streets! YAY home… I was actually thinking just that on Wednesday as I was walking to my much missed Swahili classes and my phone rang.  ”Chatty- Niko tao” (translation- I’m in town)  Yep, Mwangi was calling to tell me that he’d been back on the street since Monday (only 3 days after reaching home) and he wanted my help. 

Your first reaction to this news is typical wounded pride.  ’But I saved the day!  This kid was safe!’  HA! What were you thinkin silly?  The kid leaves the camps and lives in the streets for 4 months and you expect him to stay there now just cause you bought him some new clothes and asked nicely?  Didn’t really think that one through huh?

So Steve and I found Mwangi, and through the haze of 3 days of glue sniffing got his story and realized that there was no hope for this kid in the refugee camp (hope in a refugee camp… questionable on many levels.)  So it was back to my house with the kid who doesn’t speak english and a lot of anxiety about what to do next. 

              *its important to note that, while living in the US I could easily pull off the task of mommy as my kitchen is thoroughly stocked, I have games, cartoons and craft supplies to boot… but in Kenya, not only can I not talk to this kid, but my kitchen is supplied only for the occasional meal of stirfried veggies or peanut butter and my only source of entertainment is a single coloring book with 36 colored pencils (which desperately need sharpening at the moment).

Ok so back to the story. The desperate search for a boarding school with openings NOW was on and after only 24 hours we had two options.  I allowed Steve’s dad to indicate his favorite as I didn’t want to inconvenience him with another visit and trust his judgment as a Kenyan and a father.  I met in town with the head mistress (a pastors wife and wonderful mother of 2) and by the end of the day Mwangi was set with 3 Uniforms, a trunk, hygenic supplies, shoes, pj’s and first term school fees paid in full.  He was so happy.  The look on his face was irreplaceable.  The uniform people even pitched in with free socks and tie because they know Mwangi from the street and were so excited to see him going to school! Praise Jesus!  I hope to have a picture soon of this handsome kid.. or as we like to call him President Mwangi!

For those of you who support me financially, you should know that this was not an inexpensive task.  It caused quite a drain on the account but i hope that in faith, you can trust as I do that this was God’s appointment for the money.  I am in no way in need and I can picture no better way for the mission’s money to be spent in the month of October.. or any month really considering the biblical mandates we carry.  Mwangi has asked me to say Asante Sana (thanks a lot) to everyone and he knows that many people are now praying for him and counting on his hard work and committment.  With a prayer force like this one the plans of God for this child are beyond imagination!  Be ready for great things, like the joy of a child who understands the love of Christ for the first time!   YAY!

Bringing Home Mwangi

Some of you may have read the Twittwe that said IObrought home a street “any” Sorry… i was using the cell and not paying attention to the word it chose for me from the dictionary.  What i mean to say was that i was bringing home a stree BOY.  His name is Mwangi.  Mwangi is not with me right now, but will most likely become a part of my life for many years to come and a good reminder of what is really going on around us.

There are many street children in Eldoret.  Some ask for money, some for bread, some are too focused on the glue they are sniffing to notice you’re walking past.  Many of them are between the ages of 9 and 14 and the girls are mostly only out at night…

It is usually best when encountering these children to continue walking.  Conversation leads to guilt and guilt leads to giving and giving leads to being surrounded within minutes.  Some of you just nodded your head when I said that, some of you thought that it sounded extremely callous.  Personally, I hate that I’m even able to put that sentence into words.  But it is true that helping one is rarely enough and helping all is almost impossible so most of us just walk by, hopefully at least touched by our refusal and maybe even saying a prayer over the child… “what good does it for you to say ‘be blessed, eat and keep warm’ and to walk away?” 

Mwangi is not different than the other boys he’s surrounded by.  Only that this time it was his turn to approach me and ask for something.  When i said no he graciously stopped following but of course didn’t go too far.  I finally conceded that I was sick of just walking by and since i was on my way to the bakery took him along with me.  I almost wish I was the kind of person who can hand out a few coins and feel satisfied, but once Mwangi’s glue bottle was in my hand and I had looked into his eyes, I knew a piece of bread and a soda wouldn’t be enough for me… for him I wasn’t sure.  Through my broken Swahili I got that he was in class 4, his dad was gone and his mom was home in Mois bridge (about 2 hours away from town)… he wasn’t in school because of no uniform (common answer, heard it twice today) but I couldn’t do much better so I called Steve (my boyfriend- we’ll talk about that later.. maybe).  Steve came from his office and talked to the kid in the slang of Swahili, got one version of his story and made him feel comfortable.  He said he wanted to go home and I agreed to try and help him. 

After he ate Steve and I bought Mwangi some shoes, made arrangements for transport the next day and then as Steve ran back to the office, I decided to buy him some clean clothes to go home in.  Thank God for nice sales ladies cause my swahili was not sufficient for the dressing room!  Mwangi slept at my house that night.  He was fed, grateful, watched some movies on my laptop and feel asleep very early and slept like a rock all through the night.

The next day was a hassle… After driving cross country we eventually discovered we’d been lied to and that Mwangi’s home was not in Moi’s bridge but was actually very close to town… in a refugee camp.  We were disheartened by the lie and the story but my heart was much more concerned about how I was going to be able to leave a street prone 12 year old in a tent with a mother barely older than myself.

We’re currently looking for a good match on a bording school for Mwangi as he’s a bright kid and admits he would like to study in a good school.  Bording is the best chance to keep him off the street now that his mother has lost control of him but he is still young enough to hope for.  The local christian bording school has no openings but we will have Mwangi tested at the school this month just in case the Lord provides an opportunity for him there. 

Please pray for Mwangi and those who are like him.  There are so many people, especially women and children still living in the refugee camps and many of the children and running to the streets because they are unhappy in the camps and mothers are losing control.  It was hard for me to agree to make arrangements for one child in a family of three and a camp of hundreds but it is all I can do and so I do it with faith that God has a purpose for my meeting Mwangi on just such a day as my heart was soft enough to see Jesus instead of a boy with a glue bottle.

Enter the Village Mob

I’m pretty sure that was a stage direction in a play i was once in (for those of you who remember it as probably the strangest play that i was ever participant or audience for… but at least i got to chop someone’s head off while Laura got to sing about the moon being tastey…)  Be that as it may, it was also the title of a recent scene in my life but before i continue please read this next statement closely:

 ** some stories you just don’t tell mom.  So if you are my mom, gramma or other person who tends to have the same over affectionate feelings towards my well being DO NOT READ THIS POST. SERIOUSLY.  Thank you.**

Now back to the story.  As most of you know this past week I was in the Kerio Valley.  Home of mangos, thatch huts, lots of goats and a few historically combative tribes.  yay!  My time there was amazing.  I was with two of the most wonderful women God ever thought to bring to the earth.  I interviewed some towns-folk about the war, the current peace situation and development plans for the future.  I went to market where the two historically enemy tribes now buy and sell together and i was offered by a lady as a second wife for her husband.  All good times really.  Then it was time to come home.  I was already not looking forward to the trip since it leaves at 11pm and is about a 6 or 7 hour drive.  I had the worst seat in the van.  You know, the one in the front seat middle, no head rest and right next to the driver. Woo.  Anyways finally we started off towards home and not far down the road I noticed a man had been severely beaten and thrown to the side of the road, only barely covered from indiginity by a rag (if you know what i mean).  At first the driver went on a ways and I was kicking myself for not speaking up to turn and help this man (I would repent of this kicking later).  The driver did turn back, stop and all the men spent the next 2 hours staring at him trying to decide what to do… seriously- we were right next to a dispensary.  I tried to jump out and offer him my shirt while i cleaned his face up but Eunice wouldn’t let me.  So i just waited not understanding what anyone was saying.  Finally everyone was in the car again except for the man which no one seems to have actually done anything to help.  But we turn back towards where we came.  Eunice says that the man who beat this guy has refused to come and deal with the mess so the men are going to find him.. (can someone press play on the danger music now please?) We drive back and just a short ways up we run into a road block of stones and thorns etc.  Some VERY drunk guys with big rocks in their hands come running at the shuttle.  Luckily the driver tells him our mission and finds out they are waiting for the other guy (who also drives a shuttle) to come back down.  One of the guys is too drunk to know what he’s doing and after hitting our van a couple times has to be held off by his buddies… but not for long because just as we start to go into reverse and let the mob deal with the bad guys.. the bad guys show up.  The shuttle is attacked (by this time of course it’s full of people, not just the driver and so everyone is in danger if the car wrecks or a rock breaks through) and so to avoid death the driver floors gas pedal, runs over the stones, (and a teenage boy) misses our van by about an inch and flies away.  The mob jumps into our car and the chase is on.  Those who don’t fit (luckily the overly drunken guy was one of them) start running making typical war cries.  This my friends is my first official high speed village chase.  From there the details are kept from the mzungu.  People show up to take care of the drunk guy which has now been in the ditch for around 4 hours at least… although no one has dressed him, washed him or carried him to the nurses station.  His wife is doing the death cries and we continue on our trip.  There’s some more waiting at the main police station which is as far as the first shuttle could get.  The van was destroyed and the people very nervous.  The man was arrested and police took a statement and we loaded in as many of the other people as we could and then went on.  End of danger music, end of high heart rate, end of exciting story.

Alcohol is a problem in many developing (or not developing areas) just as it is in the developed world and sometimes worse.  When people have just enough to buy beer, or can trade a goat to get drunk and there is nothing else to do or work for then many of them do just that.  Now there is a drought in Kenya and a lot of people are suffering.  Livestock and crops are dying and people don’t know what to do.  The men turn to alcohol and the family loses even more.  This was a nerve-wracking but serious reminder of why people need to be given hope, not only in Christ but in having a reason to live and work here on the earth as well.  Praise God to everyone’s safety (well almost everyone.. myself and Eunice at least) and for a reminder that there is a lot of hurt and need in the world and we have been called to step in and do what we can to help people in that. 

May God use me (and you) to help fill the needs of these people who so desperately are longing for hope.

Twende! (Lets go!)

‘Ni Blackout.’  It always amazes me how the most common words known in english are the ones totally useless in real life situations.  Now lets say that I’m holding in my plate a tradition food dish and I’m trying to decifer if it is something safe to eat or if I will need a new religious practice which prohibits such intake… having the 8 year old at my side know the english word for goat intestines would indeed be rather helpful.  However,when in a small room in the village surrounded only by 9 small children, and all the lights suddenly go out in the middle of the movie that was distracting them from you, ‘blackout’ is a rather useless term for an 8 year old to know.  Welcome to night one in Kapsowar village!  I was able to make it through my entire swahili vocabulary and every camp/vbs and sunday school song that i could remember for the next two hours.  I reached a new level of praise with the Lord when the mom’s came in to run all the children out because it was supper time. (side note- no intestines on the menu.)  The rest of the weekend was filled with greeting everyone who walked within shouting distance to be called over (basically the whole town), addressing a girls high school, greeting a local church (in swahili of course! woot woot!), walking halfway across kenya only to find through heavy breathing that just cause the mountain is steep doesn’t mean you’ve actually gone far.. just up, and visiting a childrens home for war orphans and abandoned kids where my heart and head kicked into over drive and plans for the future of those 25 children surfaced like mad!  It was a GREAT GREAT weekend and I had so much fun and was really refreshed in the Lord and his purpose for me here, both now and in the future. 

Flashback a bit and I was in Nairobi.  Can you say two different worlds under one flag? (too long to be catchy i know but its kinda late.. and the flea bites are going to my head.)  Nairobi is the capital and like every other capital I’ve been to, not my favorite place to represent the country (Bogota may be an exception to this rule..) Its busy and over crowded and impersonal and just the wrong mix of western culture and Africa.  The family I stayed with is amazing.  The family of my neighbor from Wits.  They showed me around, drove me to the places i needed to get in the morning and back home in the evening while giving me directions when i was lost in-between.  I got to see a movie at the cinema (praise Jesus!) bought some new books (Twice) had my permit extended till december and approved for a 2 year exention after that… whew it was good.  The family also took me to a ’show-up’ for their niece.  A show-up is when the family of one side of an engagement shows-up (duh) to the house of the other party.  There’s lots of food (from hence comes the warning at the end of the last post) and drums and introductions and speeches, good times! 

Between the two trips i had a visitor from youth with a mission (YWAM).  You may remember me meeting them some time back.  It was good to see him again and catch up for a few days although if we’re honest my perspective on the ‘wonderful kenyan hospitality’ which says someone can crash your place and your wallet for as long as they like has been less than glimmering. 

So there you have it folks. I’m finally sitting in front of a computer long enough to fill you in on only the past couple weeks of what has been a hectic month.  (see future stories on house girl arrests, being propositioned.. everyday, wildlife sightings that you think are just what ignorant americans think of Africa, african boyfriends and more).  Even now between a bombardment of chat messages and this post, I’m also sorting through research materials, bible refereneces and flash cards to prepare for my next journey which starts tomorrow.  I’ll be leaving bright and early to the Kerio Valley.  6 hours from El-d.  I’ll be interviewing war victims, FGM rescue cases, teaching at a womens peace conference and preaching at a village church! I’ve got my sunblock long skirt ready! 

I hope to be back in touch as soon as I return with more fun stories (but no pictures as the shop says my camera’s lens is shot and not worth repair) I’ll paint the mental image for you with words!   Keep up your prayers and keep checkin the side bar for twit messages when exciting 140 character events happen!

Mzungu on Tour

Obviously I’ve been a bit absent lately.  If you’ve sent me an email or facebook anything in the past couple weeks you probably haven’t heard back from me.  Sorry!  Its been a crazy month.  This month I was sure that peace would reign and research would be completed since the students were gone for a while.  On the contrary its been hectic.  I was in Nairobi for a week.  I’ve recieved visitors and requests for travel. Even now i’ll be leaving tomorrow for the weekend to go and visit some friends and do some speaking!  Busy Busy! 

All in all its been good.  Its always good to keep busy even with things that aren’t exactly related to the task.  In Nairobi I was able to extend my visa, visit with a director from World Vision, spend time with some good friends and even see a movie.  It was a good trip but at the end of it I was glad to be back in the corn fields! 

I came back however to a dog with fleas and so now i once again am suffering from the Kenyan version of Chicken-pox (flea bites!)  Thanks for all the prayers while I was gone and all the prayers you send up everyday!  you have no idea the protection you bring over me and the encouragement I recieve through you!  I could never be here without the support and cooperation from the family back home.

Now i’m on my way to town to run some errands quickly, do some visiting and prepare for tomorrow’s journey.  I cannot believe how quickly time seems to get going now.  Can you imagine its alreay nearly the end of October?  CRAZY! 

Well folks, i wish I had stories of lion hunts and wild-hog races but the best I have to offer is this:  NEVER EAT SOUP WHO’s MAIN INGREDIENT IS GOAT INTESTINES!!! (and no- they don’t clean those properly before they throw them in!)

Missing Persons Notice

Hello Everyone!

    So sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long. The internet has been rather …unavailable for a while.  But here I am, safe and sound and on my way to the big city!  Woot Woot.  I’ll be leaving in just a few minutes for the 6 hour shuttle ride to Nairobi where the Mugo Family will be waiting to welcome me.  While there I will not only catch up with my family but also extend my current visa, apply for a new visa and meet with a gentleman about the posibilities of working with World Vision in the future.  I know.. its an exciting few days.  Now that the students are gone, its easier for me to take a few days away from the compound, although I will miss the dog, the sky and the families I live around. If i’m completely honest I’m pretty excited about getting away from the everyday that is Eldoret in exchange for something different.  Everyone needs a fresh atmosphere now and again.

Other than the trip there isn’t so much to tell.  I recieved a call from SA this morning with the exciting news that my dear dear wonderful friend Thabi will be coming to visit me for a month and she will arrive the 26 of December!  My other Joburg friends will meet up with us for new years in Mombasa!   The church is doing well here… I shall have to post about that one specifically at a later date. (preview with the 2 words ‘uber-conservative’)  We’re working with the youth to begin a street child outreach! 

I fell off another motor bike… this time i’m pretty sure a whole village (or maybe just half) got a good view of what’s under my skirt.

Went to a rural village… was paraded around like santa clause… greeted a bazillion people… I want a mud/clay house!

My students have left till the 11 of october.  I miss the distraction of teaching during the day.  I owe them pizza when they return…

The kids return to school tomorrow.  We’ll be working for 1 hour everyday on their homework and tutoring to help them get ahead. 

I should go now… I don’t want to arrive in Nairobi too late!  Will update soon!

Lately

The news as of late is as follows:

        I’m being eatten slowly yet consistently by some unknown dudu (insect- i know great word). Fleas?  I dunno.

        We’ve begun power rationing due to water shortages across Kenya.  That means 3 days per week with no electricity.

       Went on a day trip with the youth from church.. saw some beautiful scenery and got to know some new people more my age.  It was FANTASTIC

      Omar went back to the US.. I miss his text messaging.

      Classes are going well.  Today I formed 10 complete sentences all on my own.

       Probably my closest Kenyan friend may be transfering to Nairobi and I think it hoovers (just incase the kids are reading- you’re welcome moms)

       Technology is against me.  My camera has malfunctioned and so did my IPOD.  Thank the good Lord for Tiffy who found the solution to the Ipod… I’ll be sending in the camera for repair this week… I hope it works!

      The students have arrived!  I really began to understand their arrival at 6am when they all started praisin the lord and shifting chairs… right above my bedroom.  Is 8 too late to Praise the Lord??? (just kidding…)

     I learned to make Chapati.. a local staple food, even bought a flour sifter and a rolling pin to celebrate!

    The dog is still alive… barely with my patience.  He sends greetings to you all.

      That is all… There isn’t anymore.

About the Plan

This is a REALLY LONG letter I wrote about what God has been preparing me for in the future… read at the risk of going blind, falling asleep or moving to Africa! Cheers!

Dear Family,

             As the first president of Tanzania, Julius Nyrere had a vision for the people of his country and his continent.  His was a plan of rural, community-based development and that no one had dreamed of, especially those who were working to develop Africa through harmful capitalistic programs and reforms.  For many reasons, Nyerere’s program is considered to be a failure.  However, even as a failure many regard it as developmental genius.  Fast forward a few decades, early last year to be exact, before I had ever heard the name Julius Nyrere and you find me, fasting and seeking the Lord about what would result to be an impressively similar vision.

            Nyrere’s plan was to allow the people to develop themselves, starting where the majorities live; the rural areas.  He called it Ujamaa, literally meaning familyhood.  The goal was that people would willingly move into villages, which would take on socialist characteristics.  The villages would be agriculturally based, and as the community began to earn from its market crops, they themselves would decide what should be done with the profit.  Everything would belong to the community, including the power to design its own developmental programs and future.

            In March of last year, through many hours of research, conversation and frustration I began to question if a community where people live well and justly through hard work and value of community itself could be possible.  We’ve seen it with the stories of the first church and in many ‘experimental’ communities that are springing up today but I wondered could the idea be taken to a level that would improve the overall quality of life for the members?  In the end, while my realistic view of the world said no way, my Spirit through the distinct conviction of the Lord said YES! And then He said GO.

            So I made a plan.  I would finish school; get my masters, and head to Africa with lots of clarity and a strict agenda in 2013.  HA! Only one month later I found myself committing to move to Kenya with no idea what would come next.  Now I am here and the call to follow through with this vision that God has granted me grows stronger every day.  I can honestly say that I know without a doubt the general direction in which God is leading me but the details are only slowly coming into clarity.

            You may be asking now, ‘why is she telling us this?’ and I’ll explain.  For over a year now I, along with very few close friends, have been carrying the burden of praying over the vision with expectation.  I have seen God do amazing things in the way of confirming the future yet I withheld my dream so as not to rush ahead of myself.  Now, being here on this continent I can hold back no more, nor can I doubt what God has shown me of the future. I am extending this letter to you so that you also may join me in prayer and plan.  While many of you, in true western fashion, will hope to see a well detailed agenda including dates, sponsors, and other ‘vital’ information, I can only supply you with mere fragments of a vision that continues to be worked out daily through patience and persistence. For those of you who begin to see, in the following pages, the hand of the Master I beg you for your prayers and your participation on many levels throughout the process.

The Plan (well, so far)

            Africa is a continent wracked by natural disasters and conflicts that have bread poverty, insecurity and millions of refugees.  People who have lost everything and everyone they ever loved and have been thrown into the hands and tarps of the UN, Humanitarian organizations or left to make it on their own in some of the roughest terrain on the planet.  For many of these people, their only purpose in life is to wait.  Wait for the fighting to end, wait for the rains to come, wait for a new president to take office… wait till the list of dead arrives, wait to see if your children are in the next camp… wait to go home or wait to die.

            A people without a purpose, who receive a tarp and their daily bread but no hope and no peace, sometimes for decades or longer; those are the refugees of Africa. 

            What if someone came to those people and, rather than offer them a tarp to wait under until they go home (which most likely will not happen for many decades if at all) offered them a new plot of land, surrounded by a community with a similar story, with crops to work and market, education and training to be received and a reason to keep going for another day.  What if someone instead of offering a small temporary hand out, offered hope through hard work and self-reliance and the love of Jesus Christ tangibly felt? 

            This is my vision.

            I hope to find a team of God fearing servants who are willing to forsake the world and become like a refugee in order to bring life to the refugees.  People who are willing to move into a community which is little more than a piece of land and to share with their new family the burden of building houses, planting crops, skills training, basic education and more.  I cannot say how or through whom God will bring about the resources (land, materials, laborers etc) or the permits and permission needed for such a huge undertaking.  This is how I know that God is the one who is behind the dream, it depends 127% on Him and I cannot even begin unless His hand is guiding mine.  I am not a farmer, nor a diplomat, not a tradesman or even a person of substantial finances and political pull.  Yet I have felt the call that will require all of the above.

            So far there is a goal of working towards sustainable housing, sustenance and marketable agriculture, a place where those not in the fields can learn and use trade skills, basic education for everyone, and a home for orphans.  This is just the beginning.

            I know that it will take carpenters, agriculturalists, financiers, diplomats, counselors, engineers, businessmen and more, from Africa and around the world, for this idea to even begin to come off the ground, but if nothing else, this journey over the past year has given me the faith to believe that God does not lie when He says, “ALL things are possible.”  This also is possible, if He wills it, no one can stop it.

            The Old Testament is full of the call to care for the refugee ‘in your midst’ meaning those that come among the people of God. But then in the New Testament the people of God were sent into the world meaning that every refugee is somehow in the midst of our family and it is up to us to see that they are shown the love and provision of a God who has claimed us all as His own.  Where are the widows and the orphans of the world if not among the refugees? Where are those who mourn?  Where are those who are crying out for a God who cares?  I will go there, maybe not today, maybe not this year or even next, but I will go.  I will go in prayer daily and in heart and mind and I will see that, as far as God allows, I take the steps necessary to bring this vision He has placed so firmly in my life to be a reality for His glory and the reconciliation of His Kingdom. 

I send this letter with great anticipation and expectation that some of you who read it will be stirred in your spirits and will feel your hearts begin to burn with a similar hope and a desire to see God’s hand work in a mighty way through the future of this mission.  Maybe you will come.  Maybe you will work from where you are.  Maybe you will become a strong intercessor for this cause.  I only hope that you will feel the burden of millions of souls who are dying daily, physically, emotionally and spiritually. 

            I pray for each of you now, as I write and send this letter.  I pray that your family may know the provision necessary to praise and the want necessary to trust.  I pray that you may find passion in the redemption of your soul and your calling as an heir of the God of creation.  I pray that you may continue to shine, as a city on a hill with the light of joy that God’s mysterious and wondrous salvation has placed inside of your being.  I pray that you will pray for me and for those that will come into this vision in the future.  Pray to the Lord of the Harvest… and do not be surprised when the answer is ‘GO’!

Grace and Peace be with each of you and all of yours,

Chatty

Nandi Hills

I’m about to get started on the newsletter but I thought I’d throw in a couple quick updates before I do.

Went to a funeral yesterday about 4 hours away.  I should have known when I agreed to go that I’d be asked to speak… YIKES!  So my second funeral… ever… and I was a guest speaker.  The good thing is I got to see a lot of really beautiful parts of Kenya including Nandi Hills, where most of Kenya’s Tea comes from.  I’ll post some pictures later. We also passed sugar cane plantations, maiz and maiz and maiz, and drove through some neat little village places.  The funeral itself lasted for about 4 hours and I came home with the worst headache I’ve had in a long time, (maybe from eatting parts of a chicken I didn’t even know existed…or not) but it was worth it.  There are a lot of little ‘town’ like places where people wait on the side of the road and attack every car that passes trying to sell fruit.  On the way back I was facing the window but with my eyes closed and nearly asleep when the window was suddenly stampeded by 4 ladies and their bananas… what a wake up call! hehe

Other big news: I signed up for a Swahili course.  I’m actually pretty surprised at my progress in Swahili so far.  I’m putting together some sentences and understanding SOME of what people are saying, especially if they’re speaking slowly and directly to me. hehe.  But I found a place in town that offers courses for only $25 a month and was like… YES!  It will mean walking to town and back (12K!) everyday but within 3 months I should have it down almost fluently! Praise Jesus! 

Welp, I’m gonna go work on the newsletters and pictures…

Perspectives

Yesterday I cut my finger with a razor blade while working at Imani. Some of you may remember that Imani is a workshop for individuals who are HIV positive.  I wasn’t in any danger as no one was bleeding except me and I was even working outside at the time but it made me think a little bit.  These women are mostly between 20 and 40 years of age. Many of them have children and families.  All of the have hobbies and dreams and ideas.  I wonder if they ever sit and think, ‘how did my life become so different from other people my age?’  Granted, thanks to Imani, their lives aren’t so diffierent but when one is living with a disease inside of you that you know will one day be the likely cause of your death, things do change.  How would you react?  How would I react?  Would you carry on with life as usual (which is the only choice most of these ladies have.) Or do you pretend to be the subject of the latest country song and jump out of planes and ride bulls and dance on the table tops? 

So my day consisted of waiting for the vet to come and treat one of our cows and give the puppy a rabies shot.  I then went into town and greeted some people at the market before heading to Imani to visit with the ladies and do some work with them.  I then ran (stopping only to buy a new coloring book and colored pencils) to meet Steve (if you remember he was the only name I heard out of the 33 youth my first meeting) for lunch in some shady, but tasty, little cafe.  Steve then helped me find my friends who were spending their last day in Eldoret before going to Mombasa, 18 hours away!  After he left I had to help them find some take away food for the bus and a super market.  I then, picked up some random food stuffs I needed (like milk in a bag… odd) and carried it all the 6K back to the compound, stopping to pick up a couple kilos of potatos and a quarter watermelon closer to home.  During my long walk home I had that same question in mind.  How did my life become so different from other people my age.  This month has been full of weddings and engagements, new jobs and school holidays.  Now-a-days there are many more white folk around town as its time for good christian americans to be about their summer mission trips.  I look at all of this and then I look at my life.  Hand washing my basket of clothes, looking back over the school on the hill to see if rain will fall before they dry, commenting on the status of various crops, drinking 4 cups of chai a day and talking about peace and reconciliation, cutting up a torn pair of jeans and converting it into dog toys, head bands and other useful items… How did my life get so different?  When I spoke this weekend at the girls school they had sung a song ‘he leadeth me’ OLD SCHOOL! But i mentioned to them that THAT song is my life.  He leads me in good and bad and if I choose to really follow he will lead me to a life that is dramatically different from what I ever could have imagined by looking at the world around me.  There are days when I think a normal life might not have been so bad… then there’s every other day when I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that where he’s lead me is EXACTLY the best place and time and purpose I could hope to be experiencing!