My team and I spent month 7 & 8 (July & August) of our race in the rural community of Isebania, Kenya.
When you peer into this town as an outsider walking down the streets, it looks like any other small town in Africa– desolate and impoverished, with children in tattered clothing shouting "muzungu! muzungu!"*
*Swahili for "white person", literally translated to mean- traveller, ghost, and beautiful one
As you walk by, everyone asks, " how are you?" followed boldly by, "please, give me money." Parents neglect their children all day so they can work to feed them, and babies play in the street. Every person has at least one cell phone, and piki pikis (motorbikes) speed by, usually carrying 2 adults with an infant sandwiched in between, and a 50lb bag of corn on the back.
You'll see an abundance of women in the town. They sell produce, run hair salons and corner stores. They walk for miles carrying trays of bananas, laundry, and giant bags of grain on their heads. Bending over at the waist, young women pull 5 gallon jugs of water up from the well a dozen times a day to cook and wash clothes– washing machine and stove not included. The strength of these women would put American mothers to shame. Up before the sun, they work the day through without breaking a sweat. They are widows, and mothers, they are providers, and fierce women of God. They fill the seats in the congregation while their husbands are out drinking, keeping their distance from the church. These women strive on their own to hold together the family structures that so desperately need a foundation of two parents.
Walking the streets, children surround you on every side, and from every direction come running at the sight of your light skin and flowing hair. They are toddlers and teens, clothed in rags and school uniforms. With the biggest smiles they can muster, they greet you and hold out their hand for you to take as you walk along the dirt road. If he knows English, a child will stretch his vocabulary to have a conversation with you. If she's hungry, a little girl will ask you for food. They will want you to play futbol and chase them and laugh for hours. Girls swarm and ask you to teach them clapping games. Boys hug you and ask for piggy-back rides. The littlest ones simply stare and you can't help but take one in your arms and cradle her until she falls asleep.
These same children spend their days picking through trash for entertainment. The ones whose parents can afford school fees walk the 45 minute trek to and from school every day. Many of them have, at best, dysfunctional "home" lives– home being the one or two roomed apartment where a family of six lives. These children come "home" to an alcoholic father, a widowed mother, an abusive relative, and three or four younger siblings to care for.
All this seems like it could be a typical advertisement for life in the third-world.
But Kenya is not just
another third-world,
orphaned nation.
Spend two months of your life in this community, and you'll develop another picture. Dig deeper, and you'll find the hope of a new generation.
A stirring presence of hope fills my bones every time I take the hand of my three-year-old friend Gabriel.
My heart leaps with laughter and joy when I help my friend Jacky wash clothes.
The Holy Spirit boldly proclaims his love when I preach a message to my neighbors in Deliverance Church.
AND when I see Emily, a 25-year-old widow and mother of four boys, smile as she talks to me about the love of God, The Lord gives me visions of the women of Africa rising up and changing the nation.
I'm enchanted by the hope of Kenya. I love the curious little wonders who hang outside our compound, the teens we disciple in the church, the young students we talk to about education and travel and God. I feel a responsibility rising up inside of me to advocate for this generation of hope. This is not a heavy, guilt-tripping burden of responsibility. It's more like an "Okay God, I'm seeing your desires and I trust that if I let you continue to move in me they will become something beautiful and real, powerful and life-changing."
There are malnourished orphans, poor widows, and uneducated young women all over the world, yet somehow Africa is the continent that opened my eyes to the weight of one person's choice to sacrifice. I've seen the fruit of my love for Africa. I'm planting seeds and I'm watching them grow.
It's this small town I will return to after my race is over. Yes. On December 3rd, 2012, while the rest of D Squad takes their flight home, I will get on a different plane, and travel back to the country that's claimed a piece of my future–Kenya.
Don't worry…I'm not going to Kenya forever. Sadly, not even for an extensive amount of time. I'm returning to Kenya for 3 weeks in December, and after that, I'll be flying home to North Carolina!
Stay tuned for part two of this blog, which will explain specifically why/what I'll be doing when I return to Kenya in December. If you'd like to support me by helping me raise $4,000 for this mission trip, please email me and I will send you the address for donating. As of now I have raised $1,000. PTL!
Emily, our dear friend, with her four beautiful boys–Brighton, Eugene, Wisdom, and Amos. Thanks to all who've donated to my race–you helped employ this smart, hardworking woman for one month. She couldn't find work as a seamstress, so our contact pastor Abraham asked if we would hire her to cook and clean for us for the month.
Visit my photo blog to see more of my World Race: seerobinfly.tumblr.com
