One of my favorite things about being here in Thika, Kenya has been the music. It feeds my soul and fills my heart with so much joy. I’ve jammed on Mary B’s guitar (since I’ve lost two guitars already on the Race now, yikes..) and I’ve played on the out-of-tune piano and keyboard with eager teenagers, many of whom can’t even see. (Their ears are much more finely attuned to music and sounds than the average person’s.) They’ve taught me some African beats that remind me of a year ago, when I was accompanying dancers on a djembe in my African Dance Percussion class, excited to actually be in Africa doing the same thing. How awesome that even those little dreams are being realized through Him. And how perfectly He patches together the little details of my life. I wasn’t even going to take that class, but I only decided on it after I wasn’t able to get into another one. Coincidence? I think not.
On the second day at chapel with the students, I sit on the front pew, right in front of the drummer and pianist. Both are visually impaired, if not completely blind. I stare in amazement at the way this kid brings an old, broken drum to life and unifies the entire student body through these rhythms. Next song, they switch off and another two students amaze me with their musical talent. At this point, it’s getting quite difficult for me to multitask. I’m trying to hold my camera up to document this moment as I watch the drummer pound away at the speed of light and the pianist feel his way across the keys. But I also want to capture the students on stage dance and sing their hearts out to the Lord.
A few days later, the boys ask me to bring the guitar and jam with them. I start worshiping while waiting for them to come out of a school assembly, and they quickly run over when they hear me strumming outside the classrooms. I start a song, they sing along and harmonize, even if they don’t know the song. I love that they unabashedly put their all into this spontaneous worship session. I love that confidence and eagerness. The way they do things says, ‘I love doing this. I don’t care how talented I am; I do it because He has given me a gift, and this is my gift to Him.’ What they cannot see, they hear and feel. Then they take it to the next level that we often miss or only do half-heartedly: they share and give of themselves. For them, it’s all or nothing. I know that God hears their love and delights in the joyful noise that true worship creates.
Yet another few days later, I sit with the amazing percussionist and musician Dennis. I’ve always had a special appreciation for percussionists, especially because they’re usually not appreciated until they’re absent. He tells me that if I just show him how to hold a guitar and tune it, he’d figure out how to play it. I’m impressed by his confidence because it’s sincere and not boastful. He says that he has never been taught any instrument- he has taught himself the drums and the piano. God has given him an incredible talent, and he has not let it go to waste! I ask Dennis to share his story with me, and he tells me about being born with partial blindness. His parents didn’t realize it until he began walking as a baby and bumping into things. He has learned to live with very low sight- he can see colors and shapes of things, but cannot tell individuals apart by sight, nor can he see the piano keys he’s playing. He feels his way around, and he has become very independent through life at this boarding school in Thika. But he suffers academically, as he says his only real talent lies in music. He doesn’t let it discourage him, though, because he is so confident in his calling to make music. Dennis wants to be a music arranger and producer, and he’s not going to let anything stop him. I think we can all learn from that kind of drive. It’s not any day or anywhere that you find a blind teenager with such unreal talent, maturity, and love for the Lord.
To students of Thika- asante sana. Thank you for loving me well. Thank you for making music with me and showing me what genuine worship looks like.
