Gold Upon The Desert Sand

January 21, 2012 Saturday

The morning air is fresh and being 7000’ above sea level it can be a little cool but the temperature changes fast. Once the sun rises above the mountain ranges in front of us the cool air of the early morning vanishes. It is summer here and it can get very hot but never as hot as where I am going today.

I enter the little airport terminal surrounded by corn fields and a view of Mount Elgon behind it. With constant threats from the terrorist group, Al Shaabab, security has become a necessary part of life even in the small village areas. Once I step inside the small terminal I see that even here they are updating their security measures. We walk through the new arch way and our suitcases are now run through an x-ray machine whereas before a woman would unzip it and look through it until she was satisfied that is was safe to load on the small plane.

As we head to the north western part of Kenya the earth quickly changes below us. The rich soil below disappears and the range of rugged mountain peaks shows no sign of life at all. The river beds are dry and the earth shows only the cracks of intense heat. The hard life on the desert sand will soon stand strong before me.

Sitting beside me is a pastor that I met briefly sometime ago. He will land in Lodwar and travel two more hours northwest to KaKuma. Here in KaKuma is a very large refugee camp. Most people who live here have left their country because of war and persecution. In the beginning years the camp housed mostly Sudanese but now there are so many more. People from the Congo, Somalia, Ethiopia, Rwanda, Uganda, Burundi and Eritrea are all represented here. As we visit we soon realize that we know many of the same people here in Kenya. One pastor that is dear to his heart is also dear to mine as I work with him and his wife when helping the street children of Nairobi. Before we depart I am given an invite to do a woman’s conference in his area on my next trip.

As the plane door opens the intense heat flows inside the plane. Outside pastors and friends are waiting to greet me.

January 22, 2012 Sunday

The House of Victory is partially finished. It is a good size church with strong brick walls smeared with cement and a dirt floor. Stored chairs and equipment are brought in by the pickup truck and set up for service. For a fee the neighbors are willing to service the church with electricity and the lengthy cord is run into the church for the keyboard and microphones. The church is close to town and the airport strip is right behind the back wall. Before the service ends the daily Fly540 lands and children gather at the window with excitement.

As I stand to speak I view the Lodwar Mountain range before me and the desert land around me. It is 98 degrees today and the blue sky becomes the roof for those who have come to worship. The heat beats down and praises from their heart goes upward. They have come to worship the Lord no matter how hot it might be.

In the afternoon we meet inside one of the church member’s home. The cool inside air is welcomed as we gather around a small coffee table for flat bread and goat. Before I can finish what is on my plate another spoonful is added to what I have. They so want to make sure that I am well cared for. It is a meal that was prepared with much love and with a giving heart.

I return to the lodge which is an oasis to me. There are beautiful shade trees covering the compound like an umbrella and the air underneath is welcomed. The trees here house the many monkeys that swing so freely from branch to branch.

The Acacia trees are beautiful and are a constant reminder that one is in the land of Africa. As I walk along my eyes scan the path not just for snakes and scorpions but for thorns that have fallen from the trees.

My name is called out and I am delighted to see some of the workers from UNICEF that were here on my last trip to the Lodwar area. There are many NGO’s (non-governmental organization) working in villages around this area. I have had the pleasure to visit with those from Feed the Children, World Vision, UNICEF, IOM, International Rescue and so many others.

At day’s end we often sit together and visit as we eat in the common dining area. As I listen to each one give their name, their credentials, their level of education and the work they specialize in I realize that I have little to say in comparison. I am among highly trained and specialized people that travel the world to help in disasters and emergency situations. I’m not left out and it’s now my turn to introduce myself. With a smile I say, “I’m Linda a missionary from USA and I specialize in God.” To my surprise they said they already knew it before I told them. They went on to say that some people just carry a light, a presence with them that only God gives and they saw that light with me.

Much is being done for the desperate needs here but again many times it never reaches those that need it most. Corruption, power and the greed for money works against those that try with all that is within them to make a difference in a land that continues to ache with the pain of hunger.

Some days earlier sacks of maize had been bought to help those in need. The word went out for them to bring a pail, a plastic bag, or a cloth to take home their portion of maize. The women were permitted to line up first. The men gathered at the end of the line and if there was enough after giving maize to the women they would also receive some. My eyes continually looked into the sack and then to the line. I so wanted to send everyone home with something to eat. All the women received their portion and we started to dip into the bottom of the sack to give to the men. One by one they pulled out their robe and maize was poured into it. They showed the signs of hard life that Turkana land had brought to them. Their bodies were thin and frail looking. They wore the deep lines that the sun pressed into their skin over the years of living in the land of many generations. At the end of the sack I pulled out the last bit of maize and was pleased to pour it into this weary man’s robe. To our surprise it slipped out of the robe and fell to the ground. My heart broke as I watched this man quickly fall to the ground to protect the kernels of maize that looked like gold upon the desert sand. My eyes locked on him as I saw panic take over his actions. His eyes looked into mine and I saw the look of hurt and shame upon his face ……and he then he continued on gathering each and every piece of fallen maize.

If only I could do more. If only I had more to give. If only I could love more.

January 23, Monday

Today I realized that Africa had gone another layer deeper into my skin. When I opened my closet this morning there was a lizard running around on the inside. I took out the clothes I needed for the day and shut the door. A lizard in the closet seemed like the everyday experience. I showered with cold water that was warmed by the sun and crickets crawled up the drain and jumped on my legs. Toads hopped around the room and grasshoppers landed in my hair. It all seems so normal now.

It has been a day of many challenges, facing threats and false accusations. It has been a day of learning to retreat and seeking counsel from those who know the culture better than I. There are those that oppose and want to work against what God is to do in a land with many strongholds. We know that God is greater than any problem we face.

Psalm 138:7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life. You stretch out your hand against the anger of my foes; with your right hand you save me.