Thursday February 11, 2016 It has been good to meet old friends and make new ones as we walk the hills of the three villages where our school children live. The days are hot and the sun shows no mercy as it beats down upon us but we are determined to visit as many homes as possible.
Most of our days start on the back of a motorbike. The road
travel takes about 20 – 30 minutes and tends to make one pray just a little
more than usual. My driver is cautious
but there is always a vast range of moving objects around us. The cars and trucks moving at high speeds and
swerving to avoid the numerous pot holes can suddenly be right in front of you. A few cows and sheep, not caring to look left
or right before they step out into traffic, often feel the need to walk the
road too. Among the cars, the trucks,
the cows and sheep there’s bound to be a donkey or two hauling a cart behind
them. There are people walking, bicycles
and plenty of motorbikes.
Motorbikes
are used for everything and it’s not uncommon to have a motorbike fly by you
with a couch strapped to the back or a pile of lumber. It seems that everyone does their own thing
without a worry or thought of tomorrow.
Once in the village we go by way of “African Express”…..we
walk. The fields are tall with grass but
the paths through them are recognizable.
Village life is at a slower pace and you never walk by anyone without
taking a moment to stop and greet them.
It starts as casual talk but before you part they will know where you
are going and what you are doing. In
turn they share their plans with you as well.
I don’t believe there are too many secrets here in the village.
Festus passed away while I was in the states. This tall
slender man was kind and well spoken. I’ve always enjoyed visiting with him and
his wife. Although he reached a good age
he did not give up easily. Festus
insisted on helping us build the church in 2012 even though we were concerned
for his safety. He came faithfully and
used his panga/machete to chop away at the large thorn bushes that worked as barrier
around the purchased plot of land. As we stepped through the rails that made up
the gate his yard opened up to us. The
path that led us to his home was long and to our side was a gorgeous leaf- less
tree covered with blossoms like fire.
Before we arrived at the door it was noted that we were coming and
Festus’ wife was up on her feet to greet us.
With bare feet and still deep in mourning she
walked us to his shallow grave behind the house. It was near the big tree were
we often sat together as I listened to the stories of his days serving the
British. They were good memories for
Festus and he admitted that it left him with a fondness for whites.
His wife now lives with the pain of a broken
heart and in the darkest hour of night she can be heard screaming out his name. She welcomes prayer and we part once again.
Gladys, Festus' adult granddaughter, has been at death’s door. Her skeleton framed body was weak and wasting
away when we found her almost lifeless body covered with a sheet. She had all but given up when we prayed over
her a few years back. With good food,
medical help and lots of prayer we have watched this woman bounce back to
health. She has put weight back on and
does her work with ease. We rejoice that she
is strong, beautiful and that we still have her with us. Since the day we came to her sick bed and
prayed with her she has been a friend.
She will tell people, “I don’t ever want to hear anyone say bad things
about Mama Linda!”
Sarah, with her baby held tightly in her arms, welcomes us
into her house. It is evident that she is failing. She is suffering physically
and has other problems too. Her mind is
not clear and her body continues to weaken.
The house is dark but cool and the one wooden window lets a little ray
of light through. The surroundings are
meager and the couch framed in wire lacks the soft plush cushions that we have
come to expect.
Mama Rosie comforts her little baby in her arms while we
visit. He has been sick for a few days and isn’t showing signs of
improvement. Her home consists of one
small room just barely big enough for a small bed and a couch.
Her kitchen covered with plastic canvas is
outside. It consists of three large rocks and a few burnt embers. She faces life alone and waits for a brighter
tomorrow. She doesn’t have coins in her
pocket to travel nor the funds to get her baby medical care. This is often the
case in Taito, Makoi and Emoru where illiteracy saturates those living in the
hills. The children suffer and die
needlessly because of lack.
We meet women along the way carrying heavy loads or tools
used to work the land. They take the
time to rest from their burdens and toils of the day to visit a moment and then
they are on their way. The women work
hard and when paid for their labor its ranges from 50 cents to $1.00 for the
day. This is hardly enough to buy food for the
day. A small chicken would cost them
about six dollars or six days of hard back breaking labor under the hot African
sun.
The paths through the open fields are surrounded with tall
grasses that hide us and rustle in the wind that blows gently over the
land. But the noon day sun is intense
and scorches the earth below it. Each upward step feels heavier and heavier
when suddenly the path ends and a large open area is before us. The family is
sitting under the shade tree in the midst of the pile of corncobs and asks us
to stay.
The shade and a chance to rest are
inviting and they giggle with joy as I quickly sit down in the midst of the
corncobs with them. They are people that
work hard but the land that is not theirs. They are given a place to stay as their pay, a shelter that becomes
home. We visit, we try to encourage and
we pray and then we are on our way.
In the midst of the hills there is a small little store made
from the mud of the earth. It comes
alive when we walk up to its open window and ask for two sodas….. two warm
sodas as no one has a refrigerator. The
little ones in the area went running telling everyone that we were there. Children came from every direction and made
little groups that observed us from afar.
There was chatter, smiles and busy feet.
They could hardly stand still as a “mazungu”/ white woman was in their
home area! Our order was not expected
and their supply was low. The area was buzzing with excitement and someone was sent running to find us something to drink. With a big smile of
success they returned with two warm bottles of soda.
The dark clouds rolled in and the winds increased, the rains
drops began to fall and they got bigger and bigger. We found shelter in a
nearby home while the rain continued to fall.
The children were big eyed and quiet but happy to have us sit with
them. The dark clouds had darkened the
room and it was hard to see each other.
The chickens were finding their way in out of the rain as well and it
seemed like it was going to rain forever.
The children started to relax a bit and we began to talk about food and
things they liked to eat. The bucket at
the corner of the house used to catch rain water was almost full and it was beginning to drip inside as well. It was wet and
nasty outside and I said “Well, if it doesn’t stop I’m going to have to sleep
here for the night.” It was as if the
Christmas tree lights were turned on for the first time! The room was filled with laughter and
excitement.
The rains did stop and the children filled the doorway and
waved as we walked away. What a story they will have for their parents when
they come home at the end of the day.
Magdalene never fails to stop and say hi to me. Often with
her trained and pleading eye I will hear her request for 50 bob. Knowing I will
say no she asks but then quickly smiles.
Beneath her contagious smile is a barrel of pain. Sometimes the cover comes off that barrel and
the pain pours out of her, showing itself in various ways. She is part of a large family and one that
lives close together. As the police
searched the area for those making illicit home brew they arrested many and
Magdalene’s mom was one of them.
We approached a beautiful valley rich and fresh in green
growth but we are soon reminded of the pain and ugliness that evil brings. The grave of one young college woman killed
on April 2, 2015 during the Garissa University College terrorist attack is not
too far away. There were 148 people
killed that day and 79 wounded, most of them were college students.
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Friday February
12, 2016 Its time for the school children to have haircuts and the
teacher walks with them to barber down at the main road. Girls and boys alike line up and wait their
turn for the same close cut. Some are
showing signs of ring worm, which is very common, and will need a special cream
to apply daily to their scalp.
Also, children of this age are often infested
with intestinal worms so they will all need to be dewormed.
A closer inspection shows that several
children have rashes on their hands and some are from the same family
suggesting that it might be contagious.
Travel plans are made and Mama Rosie, her baby and the children with the
rash are taken to the clinic in town.
They are treated, given the proper medicine and sent happily
on their way back to the village. The rash was contagious and with meds, cleans
clothes and bedding it should clear up soon. Mama Rosie’s baby should also be feeling much
better in a day or two!
In the midst of all the pain and suffering I receive word
that a child has been born. Little “Joy
Linda” was born February 10th in Kawangware slum. Her mom, Emily, and little Joy Linda are
strong and doing well.
The days are full and the needs of the people are always
before me. Their life is hard but change comes even harder. If their eyes would
open and they could only see there could be a promise, a ray of light, of a
better tomorrow.
Galatians 6:2 Carry each other’s burdens,
and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. If anyone think
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