A Safe Place

The day before we left Kenya to return home, we took yet another different kind of tour. Denise, I, and another volunteer from our volunteer house visited a women’s shelter.

Though they call it a women’s shelter, it actually is a safe haven for girls ages 8 to 20. Many of them are orphans. Many of the girls have been abused or exploited, and some of them came to the shelter pregnant and have since delivered their babies, raising them in the secure environment of the shelter. Some have parents but have run away and cannot return home. Because of all of these reasons, there are no pictures of the girls here or any details of where their haven is. Those who have aided in making their lives miserable have been known to try to find them. 

But like I said, it is a haven for these young ladies, a place where they can get an education and learn skills which will help them survive once they are back out in the harsh world. 

Two dairy cows provide milk. 

And chickens provide eggs. 

A garden supplies the shelter with vegetables. 

The living room is a place to relax in the evening and learn what it is like to be a kid again. 

The grounds surrounding this safe house are beautiful, right down to the over six foot tall poinsettia plant. A reminder that Christmas is always just around the corner. 

A Day to Relax

Last time I posted here, we had visited the Kibera Slum, where it is believed that the largest concentration of people in the world may live. The very next day we drove down through the Ngong Hills out to the Maasai village of Saikeri. What a contrast between the two days!

My daughter Val volunteered here for a month when she was in Kenya for six months in 2010. She dragged me out there for several days in 2013 to stay with her friend Maggie and I immediately understood the draw. Maggie’s home has no electricity, but she has a few solar panels on the roof, enough to light a few lights in the house in the evening. She also has a nifty portable solar panel packet, the size of a tablet, which she uses to charge her cell phone and a flashlight. Her water comes from the large tanks which collect rain water from the roof, during the rainy season. The rest of the time, a water tanker truck makes the trek out to her home to fill her tanks.

Oh, but first I should describe the ride there. Another typical Kenyan road filled with potholes, ruts, rocks and boulders, but worth it for the view.

And cattle who know that they have the right of way.

When we got to Maggie's house, the goats also seemed to think they had the run of the place.

As does Maggie’s son LeShan, but isn't he adorable.

Though he is only three and a half and doesn’t know any English, he took us on a walk down the road and even visited with the neighbors. 

Downtown Saikeri, not exactly hopping that afternoon, but there were Maasai behind those doors watching us pass.

It was hard to leave.

The Jungle

I don’t know if I am going to be able to find any words for today’s blog. Anyone who has lived in a big city in America thinks they know what a slum is. They think it is that rundown neighborhood where thugs and drug dealers hang out. Or where the government built subsidized housing, where the poorest of the poor would live, but those apartments only attracted rats and other lowlife. Or the working class section of town became the lower class section when industry in the city went belly up.

But travel to a third world country. Find out what a slum is there.

Welcome to Kibera Slum, the largest slum in Africa and one of the largest in the World. Home to anywhere between one quarter of a million to a full one million people, depending on who you talk to and what time of year it is.

There are no real buildings. Homes and businesses are constructed of handmade bricks and corrugated tin and sheets of warped plywood and the sacks which 50 pounds of flour or cornmeal had come in or plastic shopping bags.

Welcome to a world where there is no sanitation system, no garbage removal.

There are electric wires running into the slum, and resourceful people will splice into these wires for free electricity into their homes. Sometimes these wires are live, sometimes they aren’t. On any given day there won’t be any electricity going into the slum.

There are two water lines going into the slum. Two! For a quarter of a million people, or four times that many. Two water lines.

There are schools in the slum. Some even claim they are free to attend, but the children still need to wear uniforms, which their parents cannot afford, and supply their own supplies, which their parents cannot afford.

The few medical facilities in the slum are run by charitable organizations, organizations with limited funds and even more limited staff. The number of HIV residents is extremely high. ARV drugs are available but many people don’t get them.

You can imagine the crime, the drugs, the unwanted pregnancies.

Somehow, the residents rise above all of this. One group of men run a business making jewelry from bone.

The name Kibera comes from the Nubian word for forest or jungle. 
Seems appropriate. 

Humbled

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.” Mark 12:41-44 (New International Version)

When I was at Lifest in 2005, as they were handing out packets of children to be sponsored through Compassion International, I decided that it was time to sponsor a boy or girl in a third world country and I took the next packet which was given to me. Randomly. The child was a scared, thin young girl from India. She was the one who God had chosen for me. I had always been fascinated with India, and before getting all wrapped up in Kenya, that was the first third world country I thought I wanted to go to.

Shortly after returning from Kenya in May of 2013, I received a letter from Compassion explaining that I might lose my child in India and that they would keep me up to date. (It’s a long story which I won’t elaborate on here, but you have to realize, stuff happens.) A few months later, one Friday evening Compassion called to say that due to circumstances beyond their control, my little girl in India was out of the program. Did I want another girl from India to sponsor?

“Well, I just got back from Kenya, so could I sponsor a little girl from there instead?”

“Sure,” the woman answered. “Let me pull up a random girl from Kenya.” She came back on the line a moment later. “I have a little girl for you and believe it or not, her birthday is next week. What an amazing birthday present for her.”

Well, when I got done crying, I thanked the woman and told her I would wait to get the information on my new child. And when her picture arrived, she looked just as small and scared as the girl from India.  

Two years later, as I began planning this trip to Africa, I contacted Compassion about going to see my child while I was there. A quite a few emails went back and forth, but the arrangements were made. At six o’clock in the morning on October 12, the Compassion representative who would be our guide for the day picked Denise and me up at our volunteer house. Five hours and many rough roads later, we arrived at the Compassion center which works with my child.

She is so beautiful. Beautiful beyond words, don’t you think? And more precious than anything.

I’d been to two different Compassion centers when I was in Kenya in 2006, so I knew the drill. We met my child, toured her center, they fed us, we drove out to her home, met her family, gave them gifts, and then they gave me gifts. Which I knew was coming, but looking at the poverty they lived in, I thought, oh, honey, your family doesn’t have to give me anything. 

Just like the widow who gave her two mites, they gave me everything they had – a gourd, a hand-made doily and four small chicken eggs. Nothing, no gift I have ever received has ever meant more to me, or ever will. Ever. 

Then, to top that all off, we planted a tree to commemorate my visit (just as they did back in 2006). That was cool. A tree to grow and supply them with fruit and so that she can remember the day I came to meet her.

Then, her mom came over with THE most precious thing they have. Kenya has been going through a drought, but most places get at least a short rain shower every week or so. In this part of the country, though, they said that they hadn’t had a drop of rain in over a year. Not a drop. But yet her mom pours this clear, clean water out for me to wash my hands.

I have never been so humbled. I thought that I would give them something, but they gave me so much more.

Lord, God, Heavenly Father, thank You for allowing me to live a life of plenty and giving me the chance to share what I have, though my sacrifice is so insignificant. And please, Lord, let it rain in that part of the world so that this precious daughter of Yours and her family can have fresh water and so that their little tree grows. Amen

Several hours after leaving the center, as we were driving home, it started to rain. We looked back and wondered if it could possibly be raining back there as well. A rainbow appeared in the sky. God is good. 

All in Their Places with Bright Smiling Faces

When my daughter Val volunteered in Kenya for six months in 2010, she spent time at the IDP (internally displaced persons) camp at Maai Mahiu. Most of the homes were still tents held together by sticks. 

However she was able to witness the opening of Southern Cross Academy.

 

When she and I returned to Kenya in May of 2013, there had been many changes at the camp.

 

As well as at the school. 

Here it is 2015 and improvements have continued.

Through generous donations, the school has increased the number of classrooms it has. Still the need is great. One can’t look at these faces though and not be moved. Kids are kids no matter where they live or what their circumstances are. All any of them need is a chance. 

Our First and Foremost Goal

The vision my daughter had when she formed Tumaini Volunteers was to take groups of volunteers to Kenya to work on specific projects which would provide sustainability. We started our nonprofit organization two years ago, and though we had lots of thoughts in our heads, we knew that someone would have to return to Kenya to find our initial project. After doing what research we could from across the seas and talking via the latest technology with our contacts in Kenya, we decided to research the feasibility of raising chickens.

Southern Cross Academy at the IDP camp at Maai Mahiu was our target.

Our third full day that we were in Kenya earlier this month, Denise (my partner in crime – I mean, fellow volunteer) and I headed out to Maai Mahiu.

Because this is Kenya, there was no direct route. A reliable young man known as Madfish took us to Kikuyu via matatu.

There we met David, a project manager I guess you would say, who works directly with the IDP camp, as well as dealing with government officials. He was the only person we worked with who wore a suitcoat and tie, at least at the beginning of the day.

Entrusted to David’s care, we took a private car to look over a chicken production in Kikuyu. I felt bad for the chickens living their lives inside. I wanted a better life for our chickens at the school.

We were soon on our way, via a city bus, to Maai Mahiu. Then we walked. And walked some more.

Finally we made it to the school, Southern Cross Academy. I will write about that another time, but for more now I will tell you that I was pleased to see that they are already raising chickens. And that they got to have fresh air and sunshine. And a chicken’s favorite thing – ground to scratch on.

Currently, the eggs these chickens lay are being used at the school in the kids’ lunches.

The hope – and the plan of Tumaini Volunteers – is to step up chicken production and get enough birds to lay enough eggs to sell at Naivasha, the next largest city down the road. The cook at the school is already taking care of these chickens and she is ready to take on more responsibility.

It sounds like a good place for Tumaini Volunteers to start their first project. Check out our website or Facebook page for more information.