A Place of Refuge

April 2, 2014 (Wednesday) I woke to the rising sun and the sounds of birds sliding down a roof of iron sheets.  Their cooing blended into with the chatter of the playful monkeys and the fan running on high speed as it rattled above me. I quickly gathered my things for the day and hopped in the van going to the Kakuma Refugee Camp.  Kakuma is a three hour drive from here and three hours closer to Sudan.  The team I was traveling with was from Brazil and they had requested a vehicle with an air conditioner.   Their request was granted but you have to remember "It’s Kenya!!" We have a van with an air conditioner but it doesn’t work and they don’t know how to fix it.  The van represents three countries and at any point during the day you could hear English, Brazilian, Kiswahili or the tribal mother tongue of the Kenyans.

The land is vast, open and beautiful. We enter the mountain ranges and the termite castles decorate the road way beside us. 

There are riverbeds beyond number that have dried and become part of the desert sand.  Here and there along the way there is evidence of life living in the traditional way.  Boys with their herds are seen walking in search of water and food for their animals. They will walk for days perhaps weeks before they return home.  Their hands beckon to us for water and they are not alone. Those that travel this parched and cracked land are in great need. 

The mountains surround us as we drive through the open land.  A few birds rest in the thorn bushes along the way. They are brilliant in color and bring beauty to the dry bushes around them.  There are hundreds and hundreds of camels feeding on the slender pieces of grass that manage to pop thru the dry earth. It looks like we are driving toward a big lake.  It shines; it glimmers as the rays of the sun bounce off it.

Kakuma Refugee Camp is in sight and the metal sheets that roof them appear as a lake to the eyes from afar. The camp has become a town of its own within the town of Kakuma.  It has become the home for refugees from Uganda, Sudan, South Sudan, Somalia, Ethiopia, Eritrea, D.R. Congo, Burundi and Rwanda.  They have fled their home land because of war, famine and political persecution. Here they have found safety but remain within unseen walls. They cannot come and go freely from the camp as they must obtain permission before leaving.

Kakuma in Kiswahili means “nowhere.”  This land is in the remote north western part of  Kenya in the midst of the hot desert sun. It is a hard life here where they deal with lack of income, diseases and the need for food. They are dependent on humanitarian relief.  Of late many have sought safety here as they flee the ongoing violence in South Sudan. Approximately 125,000 people live in this small area.

We go through the necessary check points and then receive permission to enter from the police. It is procedure that is necessary to go through to enter the camp.

The main road into the camp is lined with sheet metal store front shops. The dust roles around us and we cover those walking near us in a cloud.  

 

Our first stop is at an international church just a short ways inside the camp.  Many pastors and leaders from different countries welcome us.  They have built a school beside the church to help the little ones in the area.  It is worn and some of the walls have broken but the seats and benches made from the mud of the earth continue to be used by the children for this very important purpose.   

A little girl close by holds her new little doll that the team has given to her.  Her eyes sparkle and her face radiates joy that she feels in her heart.

We visit the Sudanese area and are welcomed in to their church. 

They have their instruments in place and are ready to greet us with music and song.

It is full and the words that we speak are held on to as they look for a promise of tomorrow.   

Before leaving we visit one of the homes near the church. It is covered with torn tarps and inside a bed made from the mud of the earth. It sits high off the ground and serves as protection from the poisonous snakes and scorpions. There isn’t any comfort for the tired body at night as the earth has turned to stone.

The next church represents those from Burundi and they beat on their floor drum as we enter. They have used handmade bricks to make benches for the people to sit on.  The church is decorated with strings of paper hung from wall to wall.  The afternoon is almost gone but the sun continues to blaze upon us in full strength. It is evident that we are not the only ones suffering from the heat of the day as droplets of water flow down the faces of the natives.

We have exhausted out time inside the camp and travel toward the main road.  There is one more church we want to visit outside the camp before we start our three hour journey back to the compound. 

We are exhausted and the trip home becomes very quiet as some settle in for a nap. Night falls around us and the only light in the area is that from above. The multitude of stars in all of their beauty shines bright in the dark African sky. 

It is a long and lonely road and it is known to host bandits along the way.  I silently pray for protection and our headlights pick up a human form beside the road. It is a herdsman carrying a little lamb in his arms.  The lamb is resting comfortably without a worry as the strong arms of the shepherd protect him from the evil that presents itself in a dark of the night. 

April 3, 2014 (Thursday) My two weeks in Turkana land has come to an end. It has gone by very quickly and we have accomplished a lot here in the village.  It’s time to return to western Kenya where the cool night air of the mountains soothes you into a good night's sleep.  

There is time to visit the work site one last time before my flight.  The men have worked steady and everyone in the area is in awe of what they see.   

 

We have faced many struggles in this desert land as tools are few and the lumber is far from straight.  

A quick lesson or two on using a guide line helps bring things together in a more eye appealing way.  They just don’t see the need for straight lines or having things level.  In a land that has so little the only thing that matters is that it is functional!  

Throughout the building process I’ve  had to be the constant reminder that a plumb line is very important to a carpenter.  

The church is finished except for the windows which we ordered in plenty of time but for some reason did not get finished until today.  They were delivered just in time for me to see them before I left.  They are far from square but constant with what we have dealt with here.

The cross for the top of the church is finished and as they climb to the peak of the church I find myself in another important time of prayer!

The cross looks splendid and I congratulate the workers on a job well done.  I leave with a thankful heart and with the remembrance of a big hug as a little girl raps her arms tightly around me and gazes up into my eyes.  I didn’t understand the Turkana words spoken but her heart spoke love to mine.

Psalm 59:16… I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.