A Bed of Rags

Tuesday, February 9, 2016. There is a life in the village unseen by many travelers that quickly come and go. It is a life of poverty and illiteracy, steeped in ancient tribal beliefs that sound strange to one from outside their world. Their world is all they know and they live it, breath it and they refuse to embrace anything that would bring change. It is a world set back in time, afraid to move forward and fearful of a new way that brings light.

 

Our school children come from the hills of three such villages;  Taito, Makoi and Emoru.   

They walk to school hungry, lacking supervision and are very happy to enter through the gate clearly marked “Linda’s Little Angels Academy.”  There are some mornings that Mama Rhoda, our neighbor and school cook, will wake to find children eating white apples that have fallen from the tree in her back yard.  They come as early as six o’clock hoping to harvest the apples that have dropped through the night before anyone else comes.  The apples are sweet and help kill the hunger pain of lack.  

Our school children receive hot porridge in the morning and a lunch at midday but once they return to their homes they often go without. 

The rich fertile land is green with growth.  It looks like the land of plenty but this picture is so deceiving. The land represents many different tribes that have come from far.  They have been displaced because of tribal wars and the post- election violence which started on December 27, 2007 to February 28, 2008.  It is estimated that 1,500 people died during this time and 600,000 were displaced. Most of the people came with nothing and became squatters. They worked the land for the land owner in exchange for a place to stay.  The produce from their hard work becomes income for the land owner and very little, if any, is reserved for the workers.  It is seasonal work at best as most do not have an education and depend on the fruit of the land to survive.

All the school children in their brown uniforms and blue sweaters, which are required in Kenya, formed two or three lines outside and sang to me when I arrived. There were big smiles and it was evident that they had rehearsed for such a day as this!

 

Their eyes sparkled as I opened up my back pack and began to pull out gifts for each one.  These children don’t celebrate birthdays.  They don’t have gifts under a tree at Christmas. The Christmas tree with lights and decorations are not part of a child’s life in the village. Today was a very special day; one that will be remembered and spoken of for a long time. The t-shirts designed by our son. Cole, carry the school color and looked so “smart” on the children.  There was such excitement in the air and their little feet were ready to dance!

Jimmy was found living alone and he was brought to us for help.  He was the result of a recent police sweep through the hills arresting anyone found making or selling chang'aa or busaa a traditional illicit home brew which often kills. This area is full of home brew; it is sold as a means of survival. It is not only sold in the villages but it makes its way into busier places as well. It is a huge problem here and makes even bigger problems in the lives of those around us. Like many, Jimmy’s parents were arrested leaving three children to care for themselves.  It is an automatic six months jail sentence or pay a minimum of $400  each.  Paying the fine is impossible and the children are left to fend for themselves.  We welcomed Jimmy to “Linda’s Little Angels Academy” and his uniform was ordered.   Here he will find safety during the day and there will be food to keep him strong. 

 

We returned with Jimmy to his  home as we wanted to locate his siblings. What we saw brought us to the reality of what life is like in the rolling hills of a people trapped in poverty. His nights had to be full of fear as there wasn't a door to lock but a piece of plastic hanging in its place. 

Inside Jimmy's home were a few dirty rags and pieces of clothing thrown in the corner of the dirt floor. It was the softest place he had; it was his bed.  There were a few miscellaneous dirty dishes in another corner but no food in sight.  The poverty seen here was extreme and now Jimmy, a little boy, had to fend for himself.    

 

An uncle was found but it was evident that he wasn't able to care for Jimmy.  His life was full of troubles; and he didn't have a place of his own. His bed was similar to Jimmy's in a corner of it's own.  Our mission was to find the other siblings but they had left the area on foot in search of relatives far away.

Matthew 18: 10 “See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven."

   

Home Away From Home

Monday, February 8, 2016 Morning came before the birds introduced the new day in with song. I was on my way to western Kenya and I needed to be on the other side of Nairobi by six o’clock.  City traffic can cause long delays and we allowed extra time “just in case.”  Wilson airport was busy even though it was early.  We went through the usual check as if we were entering the parking lot of a grocery store. The car is stopped, men with machine guns check your trunk, your glove compartment, they look around inside your vehicle, with a large round mirror they examine under your car, they ask a few questions and then allow you to enter.  It doesn’t matter if it is a grocery store or the airport, security is high and the checks are much the same here in Nairobi.

The sun rising over the small planes declares that the day will be full of light once again. Its brightness puts everyone in action and the airport becomes alive with those ready to travel.  Carts of luggage are taken out one by one and placed in the appropriate plane. The planes are small and used for short trips across the country. Many mission flights will leave from this airport to take food and supplies into remote areas of Kenya. 

A loud voice echoes through the room telling us it is time to board.  As we walk outside toward the plane we step into hurricane like winds as the plane warms its engine preparing for take-off.  Before we squeeze through the door way which does not allow us to stand straight we are handed a brown bag with water and a cookie.  There are no safety warnings to review but a welcome from the pilot who can be seen by everyone as he takes us west.

Beneath the plane herds of animals can be seen but they are  much too small to identify.  We pass over the mountain ranges and volcanoes, some of which are still active, and the Great Rift Valley. We have left the city behind us and the land ahead is rich and fertile.  The city buildings towering above my head, the massive people that line the streets, the rush of traffic and the fumes that fill the air will now be a memory of another place.

As the plane descends the land takes on the look of a patch work quilt made of different shapes of land being plowed and readied for planting. The tiny building in the midst of corn fields that serves as the airport terminal has been spotted. We have arrived!

Theresa and her two little children are waiting at the airport and take me to my room at the lodge. The roads are full of pot holes and it is very dusty.  Dust from the red soil fills the vehicle and it triggers a nagging cough that is all too familiar in a season without rains.

I’m greeted at the lodge by familiar and faithful workers then my suitcases are taken to my room. I follow close behind as I’m ready to get unpacked and settled.  The long narrow hallway leads to my room and there to my surprise is a door with my name painted on the outside!  It made me smile big knowing that once again I had returned to a place that felt like home even though it was far away from home. They said whenever they talked about this room it was always referred to as “Linda’s room” so they made it official!

There was much to do. There was a quick trip to town to by some groceries but it meant calling my motorbike driver and hoping he was still in the business. Edwin had not forgotten me and he recognized my voice right away. Soon I was on the back of his bike and on the way to town.

 

As I walked the familiar streets in town an older man with a tumor on his neck called out my name.  I had started to walk by him as I didn't notice him standing there.  He was elated to see me and I was so happy to see him as well.  His eyes are bad and a couple years ago we gave him a large print Bible and some reading glasses.  He has never forgotten it!

Although the internet and phone system was down I still needed to get my computer registered in order to communicate with home. Internet and power will be sporadic here and we will go long lengths of time without “steama” (electricity) especially when the rains come.

Joni, a great friend and missionary was here to welcome me back. We have taught many classes together and have encouraged one another through the hard times on the mission field. I was happy to see her and I know she felt the same...that is until her bike driver asked her if I was her daughter :)

Proverbs 3:23-24 Then you will go on your way in safety, and your foot will not stumble. When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.

Discouragement, Tears & Hard Work

Sunday, February 7, 2016 The morning sun was already beating down upon us with intensity.  The dust from the roads of the slums hit us in the face as we walked to where the church once stood. They had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to have a place of worship.  The dirt floors had been covered with large cement tiles.  Wooden windows had been put in for ventilation and light.  Iron doors had replaced the wooden doors to make the church secure.  

The pastor even had a little office attached to the church made of iron sheets.  Now it was gone ….all gone.   

Four rental homes now fill the same plot of land that was once used for the church.  The land within the slums has become more valuable as the population expands.  Someone offered the owner a  big lump sum of cash and he took it. Without a thought for the church people they were pushed off the land.

For some the thought of starting over was too much but others stayed the course. They salvaged what they could and piece by piece it was carried to a new leased lot. The setting was much the same with garbage piles, waste and the closeness of other buildings pieced together with rusty ragged iron sheets.

They worked through their discouragement and tears and once again had a place to worship. It had a roof and four walls and a door to lock.  It was complete and the school children could return for their studies.  Sadly they were robbed, not once but twice.  The slums are full of crime and evil takes over the land when the sun sets.  They had cut through an iron sheet and the children’s desks and their chairs, were gone.  Anything sale-able was taken. The church had been emptied out. Mama Rosie wanted to give up.  She had nothing to work with to teach the children.  How many times would they build up the church and school and then see it all disappear?  

The children had a surprise this morning! The new baby chairs where set up outside for Sunday School and they quickly filled with happy little children. Well, all but one!  Every once in a while I meet someone that is terrified of me.  “Joy Linda” screams when I am near her.  I tried to approach her slowly and reach out my hand for her to touch.  I tried to give her a piece of candy but nothing helps. There is just pure terror on her face.  In some cases, usually in remote villages, children are taught that white people will eat them.  It is a statement that settles within the little child and fear takes over.

Sunday morning service began and there were many happy faces. It had been awhile since they had seen me. I was told it was “too long, we thought you had rejected us.”  The worship team was strong in song when a troubled woman who had been visiting the witch-doctor caused a disruption.  She came confused, troubled, mixed up, lost, and needing help but she left transformed, set free and with great peace……all because of Jesus!

After the service gifts were given as a token of love from those in America.  Neck ties were given out to the men and handmade money pouches were given out to the women. 

My mom, Charlotte Towne, made slippers for all of the children. New Testaments were given out to everyone who could read. They will treasure these gifts as they know someone in America loves them! 

The stench of sewage is always nearby; you can taste it in the air. The hot sun beats down upon us and the dust off the garbage filled land swirls around our faces as we walk to one of the nearby homes. The women have worked hard and cooked a meal for us to eat.  

The hot sun beating down upon the iron sheets has turned this home into an oven and the warmth from the small jiko (charcoal stove) raises the temperature even more. 

The edge of the bed is used for a couch while we all sit close together around the one coffee table for a time of celebration and feasting.  We pray and rejoice that once again God has brought us together.

Hebrews 10:24-25 And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds,  not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

Beautiful Sarah

Friday, February 5, 2016 The birds stand watch for the first glimpse of light to break through the night skies.  Their sweet song comes alive as the sun shows itself bigger and brighter. They are always on time, not a minute late, and become the morning’s alarm.

The morning started with a round of welcoming hugs and sounds of surprise as I was greeted by those in the reception office and by some of the workers.  Between the hugs I heard; “You’ve been gone long.”  “You went far!”  Yet in some strange way it feels like I never left.

The Immigration Office was not the place of choice to visit today but it was a must. I didn’t have to travel alone though as the pastor from the slums came with me.  

 

The traffic consumed the streets and my driver uses some of the side roads to avoid being stopped in a traffic jam.  The little shanty type businesses line the corners of the roads.  There are bananas, tomatoes, pineapples, mangoes, and all kinds of various fruits and vegetables.  Grilled corn on the cob is being cook over a little charcoal burner that sits on the ground.  It is a quick lunch for those walking by.  The roadways are busy with cars swerving to this side and that to avoid a pothole, a motorbike or a pedestrian that dares to run through the maze of tangled traffic.  The traffic light turns red but it means nothing and car after car struggles to push forward.  Matatus (transportation vans) quickly load and bully their way into traffic as if no one else is around. The system is chaotic and the black fumes of all kinds of assorted vehicles fill the air.

The sun is bright and the heat of the day makes my body long for sleep but I know that one nap can prolong the time adjustment that must come!

Saturday, February 6, 2016  As we enter the slums eyes from every side fall on me. Their uneasy glare speaks of troubled souls waiting for night to fall.  The surroundings look like time has stood still but it is evident that life has continued on.  More people fill the roadway, many of which have no place to go.  They are “idle,” without jobs, without money and without hope that tomorrow will be any different than the life they see before them.

The main road is lined with household goods of all kinds. There are carts full of bananas, potatoes, tomatoes and various fruits and vegetables. There are little glassed in carts that are roasting sausages. Cow intestines and chicken feet are being grilled over charcoal.  It is an open mall of sorts where you can find just about anything you need but be ready to dicker as it is expected and the price automatically goes up when your white.  In the midst of all of the street vendors and markets loud music blares from a shop or two in hopes that they can gain your attention and your business.   

Raw sewage is evident and flows through the land.  Piles of garbage are burning and the smoke adds to already polluted air. Wild dogs sleep the day away. Their skeleton frame body is too weak to fight the heat of the day. People line up with their yellow plastic jerry cans to buy “clean” water something that many cannot afford.  Sadly the water sold is very often not clean and makes them ill.

As we venture off the main road and go into the inner parts of the slums the crowds lessen although  they still remain busy with people coming and going.  Today has been set aside for house visits and the word is spreading, “she is back!”

The small wooden bridge takes us safely from one side of the running raw sewage to the other.  We enter through a short door to rows of homes made of iron sheets. With a tight squeeze and with no room to walk each home is big enough for one bed, a coffee table and a couple chairs.  The home is approximately 10 x 10 and while sitting on the bed one eats from the coffee table.  There is a small area at the foot of the bed where a jiko (small portable cooking stove) sits on the floor.  Charcoal, wood pieces and sometimes animal dung is used to produce heat for cooking and also to give them warmth.  Every inch of the room is used.  

The women have been busy washing their clothes and the narrow path between the rows of attached houses becomes a never ending clothes line.  The clothes are wet and dripping and even though we do our best to dodge the drips it proves to be an impossible task.

With hearts full of pain and suffering their door swings open wide and we are welcomed in. With great smiles upon their faces they rush to boil water for tea, or prepare something to eat.  They have so little but are so eager and willing to give.  Often times the chairs we sit are without the cushioned seat but it is the best, the very best they can offer.

  

Part of a lacy curtain hangs from the door way allowing the air to circulate. It becomes the screen door and slows down the ever growing population of flies from entering.  Little children peer through the cloth in amazement. They stand together and the group grows as they yell for for their friends to come.

We visit one home after the other praying for the sick, the jobless, for those that have family members missing and don’t know how to find them and numerous other needs.   Along the way we meet little baby girls that have been given my name.  Some of them I’m meeting for the first time others are growing and about to enter their teenage years.  Here in the slums I'm called “Pastor Joy,” which is my middle name and a name which is becoming quite popular.  It is my prayer that every little “Joy Linda” will carry the joy of the Lord within her heart each and every day of their life.

There is another trend happening within the slums as well.  I am meeting little Manley’s along the way too!  They are healthy, happy and strong little boys. 

After sharing at a crusade of how God healed me of leukemia I was asked to go to a few homes within the slums and pray for people.  We entered Jackie’s home for the first time in 2005.  She had just given birth a few days before and was very weak.  There were complications during the home birth and they were worried that she was going to die.  We prayed and the Lord healed her and through the years has blessed her with more children.    

 

Jackie's little “Manley” is getting big!  He plays nearby while his mama works in her new shop as a seamstress.

How I rejoice at what the Lord is doing for Sarah.  Beautiful Sarah and her little children were thrown out into the streets a few years ago.  Her husband rejected her and refused to care for his children. They had nothing and no place to go.  Sarah succumbed to life on the streets and fed her children from the little bit she made. She was caught in a pit of despair, being mistreated, abused and hungry.  She found her way to the church and the pastor turned his very small office into a place for her and the children to sleep.  We helped feed them and soon their very thin bodies reflected growth and well-being.  They came to the services and we not only saw physical change but we saw their hearts changing as well.  Sarah was coming alive. The troubled and worn face we once saw was now reflecting happiness.  As Sarah walked beside me I quietly rejoiced at what the Lord was doing in her life. In the midst of this chaos and ugliness something beautiful has happened in Sarah’s life.  She had nothing but sorrow, nothing but despair but now she sings a new song.  She has found peace.  She has found forgiveness and a new life.  She has found Jesus.

There is much pain and suffering before my eyes and it never seems to lessen.  The slums groan with agony, the earth rumbles with pain beneath my feet and with each rising sun comes another day of the same.  Yet for some they rejoice through it all.   They thank the Lord, with a heart full of joy, for the smallest of things.  They rejoice at the gift of a new day, for life, for legs to walk and for the food that sustains them for another day.

Psalm 40:2-3 He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the LORD and put their trust in him.