Two More

Often times I wear humor as a mask.  Not only does it help to protect me, it shields others from realities they cannot face.  Tonight’s blog will be unmasked, fair warning.

After staff meeting today, Carla asked if I would accompany her to the children’s office to pick up two kids who were found abandoned in a forest about two hours from Kitale.  I agreed seeing as I have never been to the children’s office before and it’s always good to have company where multiple children are concerned.  On the drive to the office, Carla explained what she knew of the kids.  They were said to be twins, a boy and a girl, around 1 ½ years of age, and someone found them in a forest outside of a farm and took them to the children’s office in that area.  When the gentleman arrived with the kids, the first thing I noticed was the boy was much bigger and appeared older than the girl, and the red tint to their skin.  Later I asked Carla about their skin, and she said it is a sign of malnutrition, along with the girls reddish hair.  Carla asked the boy what his name was in Swahili, but he talked so quietly no one could understand.  Shortly after that started to get worked up and said he wanted mendazi (no idea on the spelling) which is a fried piece of bread, kind of like a donut.  We were lucky enough to find some food another kid had left behind, and the people in the children’s office gave to kids some chai to drink while the paperwork was being filled out.  When we had the paper stating the known information on the kids and that they were placed into In Step’s care, we put the girl in the car and tried to get her brother to climb in too.  He ran away from Carla—he had to be scared; how many white people has he seen in his life?  And then two of them are trying to take him away…  Carla said in Swahili that we were going to get food, and he got a big smile and let Carla pick him up and put him in the car. 

Due to some health concerns, we stopped by Dr. Shadrach’s clinic (where we take all of our sick kids), and asked him to examine them.  Besides being obviously malnourished, he prescribed de-worming medicine and antibiotics to follow, and also how to treat their feet that were riddled with jiggers (a parasitic bug).  He also estimated that they boy (who was able to tell us his name is Sammy) is about 4 years old, and the girl is about 2 years old.  So we took them home and explained what we knew about the kids and asked the aunties to bathe them.  After a good scrub, Carla and I treated their feet as the doctor recommended and fed them bananas to tide them over until dinner.  While we were working on their feet, Ray (one of the white full-time staff) was making the boy smile and laugh by playing with him.

My heart breaks for these kids.  It’s one thing to read about abandoned children, or even to see them at In Step where they run around happy most of the time, but to be a part of their story is something completely different.  As I said to Carla, I just can’t get over a parent abandoning their child after raising them for 2-4 years.  Deserting a child after birth because you know you can’t take care of them I can wrap my brain around, but bonding with a child and neglecting them and then discarding them in a forest is beyond my abilities to understand.  You could have taken them to child services or at least abandon them in town, but to leave them in the woods with dangerous animals is absolutely unacceptable!  No, I don’t understand the circumstances of the parents, but I saw those two precious kids today—the look of fear, rejection, and hopelessness in their eyes… I don’t have words…

What gives me hope is that these kids have been rescued from whatever situation they were in.  In Step will care for their physical, emotional, and spiritual needs.  They will be fed, clothed, and loved the way all of God’s kids should be.  They will have a future.  It will take some time to adjust to being enveloped by 119 other kids plus various staff, but I know they will be ok.  Praise God for In Step!

Waiting in the Mundane Life

In the words of the old school band of Hokus Pick Manoeuvre, “Time, time, time, time, time keeps a rolling away, oooh” (Does anyone remember this band?  I SO saw them in concert in Anacortes--shows you how "big-time" they were...).

It’s really not my intention to neglect you, my readers.  I find the longer I’m here everything appears “normal”.  I don’t find inspiration in the unusual anymore, so I’m trying to find material in the “mundane” and hoping it seems peculiar to you.

In the afternoons, the kids who are too young to attend preschool take naps.  Around 3pm they start to awaken.  Think Zombie Apocalypse meets miniature Kenyan.  Some kids wake up on their own, but others are summoned from the dead by the aunties (care takers).  Regardless, they stumble through the metal door, tottering to keep their balance with arms thrust in front, and many sob uncontrollably.  The aunties then line them up and sit them down for some life-giving beverage (brains perhaps?) and then usher them outside to divide and wreak havoc upon the compound.  While they may not be shouting “Brains”, the Kiswahili they roar is just as scary.

Another phenomenon (well, maybe to you) is the Kenyan Word-of-Mouth network.  This is like a large scale version of the game “Telephone” but more accurate.  I’ll be wheeling one of the contraptions I strap Wanjiku in, and one kid will ask, “What’s that for?”  I explain "it’s Wanjiku’s car," and continue travelling towards the Baby House.  A few moments later, a herd of snot-lockers from the opposite  direction runs by yelling, “Jiko’s car!  Jiko’s car!”  I don't know if they use telepathy, smoke signals, or carrier-pigeons, but they ALL KNOW!  Another example is my name.  I swear I only told a few kids my name, but now wherever I go, kids yell, “KARI!” at the top of their lungs.  I have no idea who most of the kids are, but they know me!

On a completely different note, I’ve been reading the book of Judges (highly entertaining if you’re looking for bizarre tales).  I’ve reached the story of Gideon (chapter 7), and I’m chewing on verses 17 and 18:  [after the angel of the Lord chats with Gideon] “Gideon replied, ‘If now I have found favor in your eyes, give me a sign that it is really you talking to me.  Please do not go away until I come back and bring my offering and set it before you.’  And the Lord said, ‘I will wait until you return’” (NIV, emphasis mine).  Many worship songs declare, “I will wait upon the Lord”, but it’s not so often that I hear the Lord say, “I will wait upon you.”  The picture that this passage paints mesmerizes me.  It’s not like God doesn’t have anything better to do—He has a world to run, His creations to take care of, and His way-ward people to chase down, but the Lord chooses to wait.  I’m sure it takes Gideon a while to prepare the goat and unleavened bread, and God waits patiently under the oak tree.  I don’t picture this as someone sitting under a tree twiddling his thumbs, but rather someone resting in the shade and in no hurry to move.  Sometimes I wish I was gifted in painting or drawing so I could depict the scenes in my brain… words fail me so often.  When I’m waiting on God, I feel like I have a bazillion projects and tasks to accomplish, when really I don’t have anything better to do other than wait—yet that’s the last thing I want to do.  I usually don’t choose to wait on God; rather God strips away my other options to make me dependent upon Him.  This isn’t a forced option—I still have free will to choose, but rather God takes away other options that seem good and leaves me with two options: chase my tail like a dog or rely and wait on God—the latter is clearly the superior option.  So instead of resting under an oak tree, just enjoying where I’m at while God works on whatever it is He’s working on, I’m fidgeting and twiddling my thumbs and pacing back and forth.  I think God allows me to work myself into a tizzy so that I have to rest out of pure exhaustion.  Then, after He’s deemed I’ve rested enough, He gives me the plan. 

I think I need to go take a nap under a tree.

Tempted to Run

From my WordLive devotional this morning: "Reading Acts, it’s easy to forget that it wasn’t all like an action movie! There was the everyday stuff, plus being far from home and its comforts. Like Mark, for us it can be tempting to settle, to step aside from the journey because travelling with God can be demanding. And isn’t it so much easier to opt for what we know and what we feel we can control?" 

We’ve been reading Acts after dinner here at the orphanage this month, and my email devotional has joined in too, so perhaps God is trying to teach me something…  Today’s reading came from Acts 13.

This is definitely how I feel right now.  In trying to unearth what God is calling me to do, I feel a bit like Mark who left Paul and Barnabas in the middle of their first trip.  At the beginning, everything is new and exciting—it’s easy to get swept up in the energy.  Towards the middle, everything sparkly and fresh fades, and homesickness sets in.  The desire to be surrounded by familiar people and settings kicks into overdrive.  Tiredness sets in, and that can lead to weariness and frustration.

I certainly experienced this in Mexico last year.  After about a few months, I wasn’t so keen on remaining south of the border… I struggled daily to keep going, and I failed daily as my focus became less about the kids and more about me.

Yesterday I hit that wall here in Kenya.  It wasn’t a full out run and then *smack* into it, more of just a slow meander and then, “Oh look, a wall”.  My focus is not on the kids so much right now.  It’s elsewhere.  And while I’m not so much homesick, I am tired.  Life is hard here.  Every day I am disappointed and frustrated by people.  Whether it be not keeping a promised word, not cleaning up after oneself, or putting one’s own needs over the needs of others, especially the kids, it’s exhausting.  I’m weary of human nature that is so in-your-face here.  I find it so easy to be caught up in all of the drama that I lose focus for why I’m here in the first place—to work with the kids and help in minor ways that make a major difference.

The kids here are precious, annoying at times but exquisite children of The King.  Not only the kids, but the adults are as well, black, white or other.  I need to remain mindful of this fact.

Instead of turning back now (mentally, because I will remain here physically for at least another month and ½) like Mark, I need to press on in my mission here like Barnabas and Paul.  For those of my readers that are praying folk, I deeply request your prayers over this issue.  I think that God is working on my heart in preparation for whatever comes next, whether that is to raise funds to return here to Kenya full time or to go wherever else the Spirit leads.  Regardless of where I end up, I need to find contentment in everything, especially when I hit that “wall”.

Cleaning my Room

My clean and organized room has exploded.  I’m sure my mom is chuckling as she reads that statement, thinking, “It was only a matter of time…”  But before you judge too quickly, I would like to explain the explosion.

I have minimal sewing skills, which I had hoped to keep a secret here in Kenya, but I opened my big mouth and said, “I can make curtains for you out of that material.”  This was about two weeks ago.  It started off innocently with moving the sewing machine into my room—I no longer have roommates so there’s plenty of room.  But somehow I went from making four panels of curtains for a kitchen to sewing 20 panels for the veranda, stripping apart and remaking a “Chum” sunglasses holder, sewing more curtains for the kitchen to hide below the sink, creating fabric panels to line cabinet doors, and mending clothing.  This list is not intended to be a complaint—on the contrary, I’m happy to help in whatever way I can.  This list is to explain that my room is not a mess because of my crap.  All of my clothing and possessions are neatly tucked away in shelves and the top bunk.  What has taken over my room all pertains to sewing—remember, it was supposed to be a secret.  I have piles of orange fabric for the veranda curtains taking over an entire bed, a table with a Singer sewing machine and thread box, a rickety ironing board propped up on my storage tub, bins of necessary sewing items cascading over another bed, and a large crate full of hole-y clothes that I need to sort and mend appropriately.  So now my room has become less of a haven and more of a sweatshop (although I do have a fan to keep me cool!).  I need to reorganize and shift the sewing stuff around to reduce my anxiety.

While humorous, this situation has caused me to think about my own life (here it comes, that “Life’s a lot like that moment…”).  I tend to keep my personal stuff “organized”—hidden away and out of sight so as not to arouse suspicion.  Since that is so well kept, I’ll slowly add in good “Christian” things, like helping others, helping ministries, making commitments for positive things, and pretty soon there’s no space left in my “room”.  There’s no space left for God and I to hang out and chat—I don’t even want to be in my room except to accomplish what’s necessary, i.e. sleep.  The only way to make my room operable again is to reassess what actually needs to be there and where it should go, and what can be moved out.  This cleansing process is vital to my life as well as to my walk with God.  I become so focused on what I can do for God instead of concentrating on making room to spend time with God.

This weekend I have some reorganizing and shifting to do in more than just my bedroom.

Search for the Golden Ticket

Every Friday and Saturday night, the older kids get to watch a movie.  If I can stay up this late, I really enjoy spending this time with the kids.  I drag out a cushion to sit on and plop down on the tile floor next to the kids.  Within seconds, a flock of kids worm their way over to snuggle.  It’s not unusual to have four or five kids leaning against me.  After about an hour, most of the kids have fallen asleep except the oldest kids (grades 4-8).  I enjoy this time because the kids are calm and content to just be in the same space with me.  They do not demand anything from me or bombard me with questions like, “Where are you going?... Can I have that?... What is that for?... Kari… Kari…Kari…Kari” (Have I mentioned I might change my name?  They all know it here…).  It’s peaceful and a nice way to unwind from the week.

 

Last night (Saturday) we watched “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory”—the old one.  As we were engaging in this fictional world of a poor family struggling to make ends meet and the rich dream of escaping from their reality through a tour of Wonka’s mysterious factory, I began to equate myself to Charlie.  This boy has a good heart and works hard, but he’s waiting for something big, something that will change his life forever.  It’s a dream of finding a golden ticket and winning a life’s supply of chocolate.  Seemingly, this is a child’s dream, and Charlie is a child, but this dream is so much more.  Finding that ticket means a change in circumstance; it represents a new purpose.  Isn’t that what most of us are looking for to some extent?  Yet Charlie isn’t like the other children who find the tickets; he just patiently waits for good fortune to find him.  The other kids exhaust all resources (or at least their parents’ resources) to find the tickets—they are actively searching.  Charlie doesn’t have the resources to be like the other kids.  Sure, his family (his grandpa) helps by purchasing a few chocolate bars, but Charlie just waits, and then gives up hope.  Just when all glimpses of Charlie’s dream fade, he buys one last chocolate bar, and low and behold, that shimmering ticket gleams from the wrapper.  And for those of you who have not seen this movie, if you want the ending to be a surprise, don’t read this next part.  Not only does Charlie get to go to the factory, Wonka give him the entire factory—Charlie goes from rags to riches in a single day because of his good heart and passive nature. 

I feel like Charlie right now.  I’m waiting for God to offer me a golden ticket that will change my unknown circumstances and offer a new purpose.  I don’t have a lot of resources, and I don’t know how to actively pursue this dream—I don’t even know what the dream is.  Am I supposed to live in Kenya on a more permanent basis?  Am I supposed to be a worship director at a church?  Am I supposed to return to teaching somewhere?  If I can just get my hands on that ticket, everything else will fall into place. 

Is this the right attitude to have?  I don’t know.  Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off being like Veruca—demanding to get what I want; this is what the world tells me I should do.  Despite getting everything she wants, Veruca is not content.  Charlie, who has nothing, appears content although he has a bigger dream.

In that sense, I do want to be like Charlie—content and with a bigger dream.  My realistic self tells me that finding this ticket will not solve all of my problems even if I think it will.  Being content with where I am, even if I think I’m lost, that’s where I need to be.  I don’t know my future, but God does.  And according to Jeremiah 29:11, God’s plan is so much greater than bequeathing me a Chocolate Factory and Oompa Loompas (although those things are pretty great!).  For now, I will be patient and wait.  I have another month and a half here in Kenya, and I want to remain present here instead of worrying about my future. 

Oh, but if I do find that ticket, I’ll share my chocolate with you!

Math Tutor

Want to hear something funny?  Tonight I tutored/helped one of the kids with his math homework!  Those of you who know me maybe worried and thinking, “Oh no!  I hope she didn’t screw him up too badly…”  BUT!  Have no fear, it was only long division, and I actually know how to do that!  This boy is a typical male 5^th grader—way more interested in anything other than school work.  Tonight he was focused on killing bugs, like these nasty flying worm things that are mad Kamikazes dive-bombing people and lights at will!  But I digress…  This boy also spent five minutes setting up his workbook with lines, and it took another 10 minutes to figure out what his teacher wanted him to do.  The long and short of it (get it, long as in long-division?—did I mention we were up until 10pm working on math when I normally go to bed at 8:30-9:00pm here?  And now it’s 10:30 and I’m a bit punchy?), he really struggled through the first two problems—not unlike me at his age.  At the end of the third problem, with less coaxing from me, he began to “get it”.  The last two problems he completed on his own, and the answers were correct!  And it only took us one hour to do five division problems!  I told him how proud I was of him (in between killing cockroaches and flying worms), and that I would be more than happy to help him any time he had homework.

I knew God was going to use me in unexpected ways, but I never thought it would be as a math tutor… I’m just happy the eldest kid here is only in 8^th grade… :)

Container and Curtains

Wow, it’s been a long time since I last blogged.  There’s something about being in Kenya that makes time appear stationary.  Good intentions of blogging never materialize because there’s always kesho—tomorrow. 

Sunday is the day of rest.  Due to a lingering bad cold, I decided it would be a good day to stay in my room and rest.  At 9:00am I heard the distant rumbling of a large truck and knew the long-awaited shipping container had finally arrived.  Resting will have to wait until kesho.  After downing a bowl of Rice Krispies, I headed towards the action over at the health clinic and found more than I bargained for.  The shipping container looked like my car moving to and from college—every nook and cranny held some kind of treasure.  In order to drop the container in the prepared area, we had to unload everything first, Red-Neck the container off in its permanent spot, and then reload most of the items back into the container… doesn’t seem logical but TIA (This Is Africa)!  We started unloading the container around 10am.  Medical equipment for the new health clinic, desks, school supplies, 1,800+ pieces of bed parts, clothing, you name it and it was probably in that container!  2pm rolls around and we’re finally ready to take the container off the flatbed.  How does one offload a 4 ton container without a crane?  Unfortunately our attempts at videoing the epic drama were thwarted, but I’ll post a few still pictures on FB soon.  Basically we jacked up the container, put wood and metal pipes under it, hired a tractor, and had the truck drive forward while the tractor did its best to hold position, and pulled the container off the flatbed.  The only problem was the tractor was not powerful enough and was jerked backward, causing the container to miss the concrete footings it was supposed to rest on.  So then we had to rectify the situation by jacking up the container, having the tractor pull and the truck push to get the container closer to where it needed to be.  A broken jack and several hours later, the container was situated and we still had to move everything either into the health clinic or back into the container.  By 8pm, we still did not have everything moved, but by the grace of God and a few tarps, we bedded everything down for the night.  Again, words cannot fully describe the spectacle, so you’ll have to check out the pictures.  I, of course, neglected to apply sunscreen during this whole ordeal.  10 hours later, I was feeling the effects of major sunburns all over my arms, face, neck and a bit of my chest.  While I appreciate a good farmer’s tan, this is a bit overboard.  Good thing I’m good at finding inside projects to do!

In amongst all of the goodies, we found some fabric to make curtains to block the vicious sun in the veranda, and some fabric to make new curtains for Carla’s kitchen.  So today, in Lou of going outside and continuing to fry myself, I started on the curtains.  I was able to complete two panels for Carla’s kitchen and get some ideas for the veranda.  Despite being kicked out of 4H, I do alright in the sewing department.  Thanks mom for not giving up on me and kicking me out of being your daughter!

A quick update on Wanjiku:  Today she stood with the leg braces on for 15 minutes, and a few days ago she was trying to pull herself up!  This girl will walk, and soon by the looks of things!  Thank you for all your prayers and keep ‘em up!